Free This Can't Be Happening at Macdonald Hall by Gordon Korman

10
Breakfast at Scrimmage’s
    At daybreak Bruno and Boots were trudging along Miss Scrimmage’s driveway. In the grey dawn they could barely make out the ruined hedges and flower beds.
    â€œIf there was any justice,” mumbled Bruno as he pushed the wheelbarrow, “I would be riding in this thing and
you
would be pushing, because this is all your fault.”
    Boots ignored him. His attention had been captured by something else. “Ah,” he said with delight, “we were expected. News travels fast in this place.” He pointed to the orchard.
    Slung between two apple trees was a makeshift banner.
WELCOME BRUNO AND BOOTS
it read. Under the sign stood a small folding table covered by a bed-sheet tablecloth and set with Miss Scrimmage’s best china, silver and crystal. A cardboard sign on the table said
Breakfast is Served
. Milk, orange juice, fresh rolls and butter, strawberries and cold cereal awaited the boys.
    â€œThose girls!” sighed Bruno gratefully. “They remind me of us!” It was the highest compliment he could pay.
    Their spirits much improved by the welcome, Bruno and Boots feasted like royalty. They were reluctantly preparing to start work after their hearty breakfast when they heard footsteps rustling in the grass. Diane and Cathy soon appeared, leading a parade of girls in jeans and T-shirts.
    â€œDetail, halt!” ordered Diane. The girls stopped.
    Cathy walked up to Bruno and Boots. “Good morning,” she greeted. “We’re the Good Samaritan Committee. You just relax and leave everything to us.” She turned to Diane. “All right. Let’s get to work.”
    The boys watched in fascination. Two girls took down the banner and began to dismantle the table. The rest set to work with shovels and hoes on the garden and hedges. In an hour’s time the hedge looked almost normal and the flower beds, though a little bare, were once more neat and orderly.
    â€œWhere were they,” gasped Bruno, “when I was catching ants?”
    â€œI’ll bet they’re good dishwashers too,” added Boots. He shivered at the image of himself in the Macdonald Hall kitchen, up to his ears in soapsuds, earning his measly two dollars an hour.
    Cathy, covered in earth, her arms scratched by the bushes, came over and dropped exhausted beside them. “That’s that,” she puffed. “Sorry, but there are an awful lot of dead flowers that will have to be replaced. Maybe this will help.” She dropped a battered paper bag into Boots’s lap. “There’s fourteen dollars and nine cents,” she said. “We took up a collection at dinner time. It’s sort of a contribution for Saturday’s entertainment. Even Miss Scrimmage gave us all her change — but of course she thought she was giving it to the Red Cross.”
    â€œYou are so wonderful,” declared Boots, “that you defy description!”
    Bruno just sat there shaking his head. “I don’t know what to say!”
    â€œYou?” Cathy laughed. “
You
don’t know what to say? The Mouth is silent?”
    â€œSay thank you, Bruno,” said Boots.
    â€œI don’t know if I can,” Bruno grinned. “I have a feeling she’s the one who pulled the fire alarm.”
    â€œRight,” Cathy giggled. Then she shouted, “All right, girls! Give it to them!”
    Before they could move or try to defend themselves, the boys were attacked by the work crew. The girls smeared dirt all over their clothes and their faces. “Hey!” gasped Bruno. “What’s this for?”
    â€œYou wouldn’t want Mr. Sturgeon to think you’d been taking it easy, would you?” Diane replied.
    â€œWe’re supposed to have been gardening, not digging a tunnel,” Boots protested, spitting dirt out of his mouth.
    â€œAnd The Fish won’t even see us,” groaned Bruno, “You’ve messed us up