Tabloidology (18 page)

Trixi stood motionless, except for her eyes. They were flitting left, right, up, down—just like the thoughts bouncing around in her head.

“Martin, do you know where Ms. Baumgartner is right now?” she said.

“The last time I saw her, I think she was in the gym, trying to get people to buy tickets for the Dunk Tank. Why?”

“No reason. No reason at all. I've just got to run down to the office for a minute. I'll be back!”

Trixi whirled around and began to sprint down the hall.

But only four strides into her run, she smacked right into a kid leaving the Cake Walk. It was Ryan Padget who was carefully balancing the triple-decker chocolate cake he'd just won one minute ago.

The two of them tumbled to the floor in a tangle of arms, legs and triple-decker chocolate cake. Ryan got his first mouthful of that delicious cake when he hit face-first into the top layer. Cake was smeared all over the floor, with Ryan's face covered in clumps of icing. He coughed, gagged and spat out wads of soggy chocolate. On one final spit, something small, hard and sparkly clattered across the floor. Ryan reached over and picked it up. “Hey! This cake had a prize inside! It looks like…”

“A DIAMOND RING! A REAL DIAMOND RING!” Trixi screamed. “It worked! It really worked!”

“I don't believe it,” Martin said.

“Gwennie came through for us, after all!” Trixi said.

A crowd of people thundered down the hall to see what the screaming was all about, saying things like, “Is it a real diamond or some cheap fake?” and “Who would donate a cake with a diamond ring in it?”

Trixi announced in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “According to the
Extra Special Edition of the Upland
Green Gossiper,
it's a genuine diamond. Plus, there might be more diamonds hidden in other cakes!”

A stampede of adults and kids crashed through the doors of the Cake Walk room, clamoring to buy tickets. Poor Mrs. Bryson was racing back and forth, trying to sell tickets while keeping people from poking and prodding the prize cakes.

“Mission accomplished in the Cake Walk,” Trixi said. “I wonder what'll happen next?”

“Let's go and find out,” Martin said, heading for the gym.

On their way, they ran into Ms. Baumgartner standing near the gym door.

“It's nice to see the Cake Walk doing so well, but the gym's completely empty,” the principal said. “And I was just down at the auction and the Bingo room. Not a soul to be found.”

“Oh, don't you worry, Ms. Baumgartner,” Trixi said. “I think I hear something that's going to make you forget all your worries.”

What Trixi heard was the roar of a gigantic tour bus pulling up to the front door of the school. In huge letters across the bus was
VIVA LAS VEGAS BINGO TOURS
. The door swung open, and a pack of Bingo players thundered out, holding their dabbers high.

“Third room on your right!” Trixi said. The crowd of blue-haired ladies raced down the hall and swarmed into the Bingo room. In minutes, it was standing room only, and every table was covered with Bingo cards. The bus driver staggered down the hall toward the Bingo room, his face covered in red and blue Bingo dabs.

“Are you okay?” Ms. Baumgartner said.

“We were on our way to Las Vegas on a Bingo tour when someone at the back of the bus said there was Bingo going on at the school. I told them it wasn't on the schedule, but they attacked me with their dabbers until I agreed to stop!”

“It looks like the Fall Fair Fundraiser might make a bit of money after all,” Martin said.

“I have to admit, things are looking up,” Ms. Baumgartner replied.

They were out of cakes at the Cake Walk, and the crowd was leaving the room grumbling about not finding any more diamonds. After all the excitement in the Cake Walk, there wasn't much interest in the games in the gym. All that changed when the front doors of the school swung open and in walked the town's mayor.

“Show me the Dunk Tank,” Mayor Wainwright ordered.

“What's going on?” people asked as Mayor Wainwright strode down the hall to the gym. The town's mayor had never visited the school before, let alone come to the Fall Fair Fundraiser. As he walked through the doors of the gym, he threw off his long coat. Underneath, Mayor Wainwright was wearing his swimsuit and an Upland Green School T-shirt. He snapped his fingers, and Wally Lumkowski climbed out of the Dunk Tank. The mayor took his place on the seat high above the water.

As word of the mayor's arrival spread, dozens of people streamed into the gym. Shocked to see their mayor sitting in the Dunk Tank, no one knew what to do. Would it be proper to try to dunk him? Everyone stood around, waiting, watching.

Then Mayor Wainwright shouted, “Hey, you! Mr. Brent Parker! The way you throw a baseball, you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn! You couldn't dunk me if you bought a million-dollars worth of tickets!”

“Oh yeah?” Mr. Parker replied. “Just watch me!” He bought a handful of tickets, stepped up and took aim at the Dunk Tank target, launching ball after ball. It turned out that Mayor Wainwright was right when he said Mr. Parker couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. After spending $27.50 on tickets, he finally hit the target, and Mayor Wainwright plummeted into the water with a great
SPLOOSH
!

The crowd cheered, and immediately a long lineup of adults formed, everyone wanting to take a crack at dunking the mayor. With each
whack
of the baseball against the target, and with each
sploosh
of the mayor in the Dunk Tank, the crowd cheered. Anyone who managed to dunk Mayor Wainwright became an instant hero.

While the adults were all having fun at the Dunk Tank, it wasn't half as much fun for the kids. “This is so boring. It's not fair,” Tina Montgomery said to her friend, Alexis Smith. “The adults get to have all the fun while we just stand around here getting bored.”

Trixi leaned toward Tina and whispered, “Hey, Tina. Why don't you go and try the Fish Pond. I'm sure you'll catch a great prize.”

“You've obviously never tried the Fish Pond,” Tina replied. “Do you have any idea how lame the prizes are? It's just for little kids.”

But Tina's friend, Alexis, said, “Ah, why not? Anything's better than standing around being bored.” Alexis headed over to the Fish Pond, bought a ticket and lowered her fishing line behind the cardboard. She felt a tug as her prize was hooked to the end of her line.

“I can't believe you're actually doing this,” Tina said. “I outgrew the Fish Pond in grade one.”

But as Alexis pulled her line out of the Fish Pond and saw what dangled on the end of her line, she let out a scream that caused all heads in the gym to turn her way.

“Is it…is it, like, for real?” Tina said.

“Yeah! It's for real!” Alexis said.

“Are you sure? It's probably some cheapo-plastic thing that doesn't even work,” Tina said.

“No, it's not! It's for real! My uncle's got a watch just like this, only this one's solid gold!”

Word travelled quickly throughout the gym that the Fish Pond wasn't your average cardboard fishing hole. A huge lineup suddenly formed, stretching across the gym. No one figured they were too old for the Fish Pond when solid gold watches were swimming around in it.

Between the Dunk Tank and the Fish Pond, the gym was one great big moneymaker for the Fall Fair Fundraiser. Trixi and Martin had never seen Ms. Baumgartner smile so wide.

Amid the moneymaking mayhem in the gym, Martin managed to get the principal's attention. “Excuse me, Ms. Baumgartner, but how do you think the auction's going?”

“Terribly,” Ms. Baumgartner replied, still grinning. “But who cares? Everyone's here in the gym spending their life savings trying to dunk the mayor or catch a gold watch! There's no one left to bid at the auction!”

“Maybe we should check it out, just in case,” Martin said. “I read somewhere that a special visitor would be coming to the auction.”

“Oh, really? Who?” Ms. Baumgartner said. But Martin was already leading her down the hall toward the front door.

Through the glass doors, they could see the outline of a car—a very, very long, dark, shiny stretch limo—pulling right up to the door. Two muscle-bound men wearing black suits and dark glasses jumped out, glanced around suspiciously and then opened one of the rear doors.

Out of the back of the limousine stepped a tall slim man in a golf shirt, plaid pants and white shoes. Handing a briefcase to one of his bodyguards, he breezed through the front door of the school and headed straight for the music room.

Ms. Baumgartner's jaw dropped. “Is that who I think it is?”

“It sure is, Ms. Baumgartner,” Martin said. “None other than multi-gajillionaire Howie ‘The Hound' Barker! Take three guesses what's in that briefcase, and the first two guesses don't count!”

Ms. Baumgartner didn't need to take a guess. She scrambled down to the music room, arriving just in time to hear the auctioneer say, “We have item number seven, a pair of hand-knit slippers, made with loving and tender care by Mrs. Olive Broom. We'll start the bidding at two dollars. Do I hear two dollars? Two dollars for these beautiful, one-of-a-kind slippers!”

“Five thousand dollars!” called a voice from the back of the room.

The auctioneer chuckled and said, “Sorry, sir. For a minute, I thought you said five thousand dollars.”

“That's exactly what I said. Five thousand dollars!”

“Listen, sir. I've got an auction to run here. I don't have time for jokers like you!” the auctioneer said.

“I bid five thousand dollars!” Howie Barker shouted.

“Okay, then.” The auctioneer banged his gavel, and said, “Sold! To the man who owes the school five thousand dollars!”

A bodyguard brought the briefcase to the front of the room, popped it open and handed the auctioneer five thick bundles of cash.

“That's…that's…like…real money!” the auctioneer said. He handed over the pink knitted slippers, which the bodyguard placed carefully in the briefcase. He snapped it shut and headed to the back of the room.

The auctioneer, who made his living with fast talking, was left speechless.

“Excuse me, but I think we'd better get on with the auction!” Martin said.

“Right! The auction!” the auctioneer said, still shaking his head in disbelief. “Okay, then. Item number eight. A pair of hand-carved chopsticks made by Byron Williams. We'll start the bidding at…”

“Eight thousand dollars!” Martin shouted.

“Are you kidding me, kid? You actually have—?”

“Ten thousand!” Howie Barker shouted.

The auctioneer's head jerked back and forth from Martin to Howie Barker and back to Martin again. “Are you crazy? Are you
loco
? Ten thousand dollars for a pair of lousy hand-carved chopsticks! You must be out of your mind!”

“Twelve thousand!” Howie Barker shouted.

Martin jumped up on the platform, took the gavel from the auctioneer, banged it on the podium and said, “Sold to the man with the matching bodyguards!” Once again, one of the bodyguards hustled to the front of the room and handed over twelve stacks of bills, while the auctioneer handed over the spindly wooden chopsticks.

Without another word, Howier Barker and his two bodyguards breezed out the back door of the music room to their awaiting limo.

“Not a bad price for some slippers and a pair of chopsticks,” Martin said to Ms. Baumgartner. “I hate to think of what he would have paid for the pizza.”

At 9:00 pm, Trixi and Martin stood outside the office and watched the waterlogged mayor slosh his way down the hall, headed for home. Their dabbers all dry, the Bingo players scuttled out of the school and back onto their bus. The fishing rods were put away for another year, and the last few remaining people trudged home without a penny left in their pockets. The last person out of the gym was Mrs. Green, staggering under the weight of a bulging garbage bag full of money.

“Do you need a hand with that, Mrs. Green?” Martin said.

“That would be wonderful, Martin. Usually, I can carry the money we make from the games in the gym in a small grocery bag. But not this year.”

Trixi and Martin each grabbed one side of the garbage bag and shuffled down the hall toward the office. Mrs. Bryson was lugging an enormous bag of money from the Cake Walk, while Mr. Quigley was dragging a bag with each hand down the hall from the Bingo room.

Ms. Baumgartner stood at the office door, clapping. “You can just leave it on the floor for now,” she said. “First I have to clean off my desk, and then we can count it there.”