Free The Wizzle War by Gordon Korman Page A

overdue.”
    “Remarkable,” said Mr. Thomas. “Is Macdonald Hall then in danger?”
    “Oh, no,” said Elmer. “You see, activity on my fault line is very local. Even in the event of a major seismic disturbance, the nearby buildings would remain intact.” He paused and beamed. “Naturally, however, there would be complete and utter devastation on the fault line itself. Now this map has all the Macdonald Hall buildings plotted. The red line is the Elmer Drimsdale fault. As you can see, all dormitories and educational buildings are located a safe distance from the fault. The only one that lies on it is — uh — the guest cottage.”
    All the boys wheeled to stare at Mr. Wizzle, who pocketed his notebook and left the room, looking quite pale.
    “Elmer,” whispered Bruno, “I love you!”
    * * *
    Mr. Sturgeon leaned back in his chair. “What can I do for you, Wizzle?”
    “I’ll come right to the point, Mr. Sturgeon. I’d like to talk to you about the earthquake fault my house is built on.”
    Mr. Sturgeon’s eyes opened wide. “Do tell.”
    “Yes, well, I just heard that my cottage is located on an earthquake fault and —”
    “Excuse me, Wizzle,” said the Headmaster, “but where did you hear this?”
    Mr. Wizzle thought of Elmer Drimsdale’s impeccable scholastic reputation. “From a very reliable source.”
    “I’ve been Headmaster here for almost twenty years,” said Mr. Sturgeon, “and we have never had an earthquake.”
    “Oh, really?” challenged Mr. Wizzle. “Well, I had one last night.”
    “Funny. I didn’t notice anything.”
    “That’s because your house isn’t on the fault.”
    “That’s absurd,” said the Headmaster. “Your house is no more than twenty-five metres from mine.”
    “It’s a very local fault,” insisted Mr. Wizzle. “My source even said so.”
    “I see. What else did your source say?”
    “He said that we were long overdue for a major earthquake. Frankly, I’m wondering if the cottage is safe.”
    Mr. Sturgeon raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you’re really that frightened, Wizzle, I’m sure we can arrange other accommodations — perhaps a small spare room in one of the dormitories.”
    Mr. Wizzle bristled. “I’m not at all frightened. I simply wanted to give you some input on this matter.” He turned on his heel and stalked out.
    The Headmaster reached for the telephone and dialled his home number. “Mildred? … You’ve got to hear what Wizzle’s done this time … No, it’s not mean. It’s funny …”
    * * *
    Cathy and Diane sat amid Miss Scrimmage’s student body while Miss Peabody addressed the assembly.
    “Now remember,” whispered Cathy, “as soon as she says something mean, start crying.”
    “She never says anything that
isn’t
mean.”
    “I meant something
really
mean. Don’t forget, cry loud. When the girls hear us, they’ll all start, too. I don’t want a dry eye in the place.”
    “Now,” Miss Peabody was saying, “there’s been a little improvement since I came, but you are still the most nauseating, miserable bunch of softies —”
    “Waaah!” Cathy wailed at top volume.
    Diane joined in with a series of sobs like hiccups. And one by one the entire student body burst into uncontrolled tears, until the whole gymnasium echoed with sobbing, wailing, crying, shrieking and howling voices.
    Miss Scrimmage leapt up from her chair and began running back and forth in front of the assembly. “Girls! Girls! Please don’t cry! Oh dear! Don’t cry! Miss Peabody didn’t mean it!
Please
don’t cry!”
    This encouraged the girls, who cried harder. Miss Peabody stood at the front of the group, arms folded, glancing dispassionately at her wristwatch.
    After a full five minutes, the wailing began to diminish. Cathy looked. Miss Peabody was still there, staring at her watch.
    “Waaah!”
Cathy howled, and the crying swelled again.
    “Oh dear! Oh dear!” agonized Miss Scrimmage. “Miss Peabody, what shall we do?”