Free Go Jump in the Pool by Gordon Korman

earnestly.
    “Nevertheless, I think I’d like to hear it.”
    “Well, sir,” Bruno began, “I thought we could have a Monte Carlo night. Nothing big, you understand — just a little blackjack, roulette, maybe a craps table or two —”
    “Out!” thundered Mr. Sturgeon. “Good day.”
    * * *
    Boots put the finishing touches on the chicken sandwiches while Bruno stirred the lemonade.
    “Have you finished the letter to your folks yet?” Bruno asked.
    “Oh yes,” Boots assured him. “This time it was all about a French class that was
très fantastique
. To me, they’re all about as subtle as a train wreck. I said my father was an athlete, not a musclehead.”
    “Keep it up,” ordered Bruno, “or your next letter home is going to be postmarked York Academy.”
    “Yes, I know,” said Boots. “Gobble, gobble.”
    “The girls should be here soon.” Bruno yawned. “It’s after midnight.”
    As if in reply, several small pebbles sailed in through the open window and landed in the lemonade. A voice from outside exclaimed, “Oops,” and there was high-pitched giggling.
    Bruno and Boots rushed to the window and hauled Cathy and Diane over the sill.
    “Shhh!” Boots whispered frantically. “We have a Housemaster!”
    Cathy nodded. “What’s for eats? I’m starved!”
    “Chicken sandwiches,” said Boots.
    “And lemonade on the rocks,” added Bruno. “Your signal landed in the drink.”
    There was more giggling, followed by a sharp rapping at the door. “Walton — O’Neal — you sound like a couple of girls in there! Pipe down and go to sleep!”
    When they were finished eating, Cathy handed over the lottery ticket. “Your number is 41965,” she told them. “And I hope you win. We met some turkeys from York Academy in town today. They are just impossible about beating you in the swim meet!”
    “Aren’t you glad you kicked one of them?” Diane said with a grin.
    “I guess we may as well tell you,” Bruno said, “that there’s a good chance Boots might end up in York Academy because of their athletic program.”
    Cathy slapped both hands over her mouth to suppress the screech of protest that rose from her throat. “But — but you’d be a turkey!” she managed to whisper in Boots’s face.
    “Yeah, well, we’re working on it,” Boots replied.
    “Cathy, we can’t stay much longer,” Diane said nervously.
    Cathy nodded. “We’d better split,” she agreed. She turned to Bruno and Boots. “When you win the lottery, can we come swimming in your pool?”
    “Only if you make your bathing suits in sewing class,” Bruno grinned.
    Bruno and Boots helped the girls back out over the sill and watched until they disappeared into the darkness.

Chapter 8
Jingle Fever
    “This contest thing,” grumbled Boots, “is costing us fifty G’s in postage alone.”
    “Toss me another one of those entry forms for the Sudso Detergent Cash Giveaway,” said Bruno. “We’re bound to win if we enter enough of them.”
    “Cool Cola! Snuggums Longjohns! Sudso Detergent! Bibble Bubble Gum!” snorted Boots. “This is insanity!”
    “It’s this kind of insanity that’s going to keep people like you out of places like York Academy,” Bruno retorted. “We’ve
got
to win something. Two whole campuses are heart and soul into this campaign.”
    That was true. Every magazine and comic book was ripped to shreds as students searched for entry forms. Cold cereal was enjoying an unprecedented popularity at breakfast so that more boxtops would be available. Macdonald Hall’s outgoing mail filled ten sacks instead of the usual two. Students were occupied with praising products in fifty words or less, and inventing catchy jingles to sell everything from toilet paper to limousines.
    “I’ve got it!” Bruno exclaimed. “Listen to this:
    Cool Cola tastes just great
,
    Buy a bottle, maybe eight
.
    If you really like the stuff
,
    You can never get enough
.
    How about that, eh?”
    “Maybe eight?”