The Stupendous Dodgeball Fiasco Read Online Free PDF

hide a pocketknife behind a belt buckle,” Phillip heard the guard explain in a serious voice as the man was made to remove it. The beltless man went through the detector. Did Phillip have anything metal on? He wasn’t sure.
    A female construction worker in steel-toed boots was next to make the thing sing. The guard tapped on her shoes and heard the ping of the steel-toed tips. “You can hide a bulletin a boot,” the guard said solemnly as the woman was made to strip to her socks.
    Phillip stayed close to the man in front of him. The man removed his pocket change and keys. He placed them in a plastic box on a table. They entered the detector together. It went off. The man hopped out, leaving Phillip standing there.
    “Hello, Phillip,” the guard said. “How was your day at school?”
    “Aunt Veola?” asked Phillip, surprised to see her in a courthouse guard uniform. She wore a crisp white shirt with a shoulder patch that said HARDINGTOWN COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT . Her black leather security belt held a walkie-talkie, a key chain, a leather pouch, a nightstick, and a half dozen other scary-looking things.
    “You, over here,” Aunt Veola said gravely to the man in front of Phillip. She swept a handheld device over him.
    “You can hide a razor blade behind your calf,” she explained in earnest.
    “Yes, ma’am,” the man said, stepping aside.
    “And you,” she said to Phillip. “You need to go around the metal detector. Not through it.”
    “Okay,” Phillip said, backing out and going around.
    “Those darn things are loaded with radiation poisoning,” she confided. “Every time you pass through, you lose brain cells. Understand?”
    “I guess,” Phillip said. He knew from his science studies that it probably wasn’t true, but he wanted to be polite.
    “Do you want your fingers to turn black?”
    “No,” he answered.
    “Do you want your toes to fall off?”
    “No,” he answered again.
    “Go on, then,” she said. “Up to the snack bar, and wait for me there.”
    She held out a crisp dollar bill. Phillip took the money and looked down the hallway for the snack-bar sign.
    “Next one through,” he heard Aunt Veola say. A man in a blue suit stood still as a statue, staring at the ominous frame of the metal detector. “Let’s go,” she said impatiently. “What are you afraid of?”
    Phillip headed to the snack bar for his after-school snack. It was a dingy little place with a dozen tables balanced on uneven legs and a long counter, which a young woman was wiping with a rag. Hanging behind her was a menu with prices.
    For one dollar, Phillip could get a small bowl of soup, a grilled-cheese sandwich, or something called “the Dodgeballburger.” The woman at the counter explained to Phillip that the Dodgeballburger was a meatball with tomato sauce on a hamburger roll. Phillip chose a can of root beer from the cooler and a bag of chips.
    The man behind the cash register was broad-shouldered. His skin was as close to pitch-black as Phillip had ever seen. He had thick muscles bulging out of his shirt and slightly graying hair. He wore cool sunglasses—the kind that have mirrors for lenses, so when you look at him you’re looking back at yourself. There was a tag pinned to his shirt that said MY NAME IS SAM, but after his
Hall Monitor
mistake, Phillip wasn’t about to jump to any conclusions.
    “Hello,” the man said. “What do you have there?”
    “A bag of chips,” said Phillip. The man hit a key on the cash register.
    “Fifty cents,” the cash register said. Phillip smiled. He had never heard a talking cash register.
    “What else do you have?”
    “A can of root beer,” said Phillip. The man hit another key.
    “Fifty cents,” the cash register said.
    “Is that it?” the man asked.
    “That’s all,” said Phillip.
    “Your total is one dollar,” the cash register said. The man held out his hand, and Phillip placed the dollar bill in it. The man hit another key, and the