CHAPTER 9

he next morning at Privilege House, Miss Sour Pickle caught Jacob Two-Two daydreaming during geography class. Sneaking up behind him, she demanded, “Jacob Two-Two, I want you to tell me the names of the capital cities of Fiji, Taiwan, and Liberia before I count to five. Onetwothreefourfive.”

“Don’t know,” said Jacob Two-Two twice.

“In that case, you will stay in for an hour after school today,” she said, smiling sweetly.

Hiding behind a locker about an hour later, Mr. I.M. Greedyguts saw Mickey Horowitz reach into his jacket pocket to unwrap a bagel smothered in cream cheese. Mickey was just about to bite into it when the headmaster pounced. “Mustn’t spoil your appetite for lunch,” he said, snatching it away and popping it into his own mouth.

At lunch, Mr. I.M. Greedyguts rose from his multi-pillowed throne at the head table, burped loudly, wiped his three wobbly chins on his sleeve, and called out, “What do we say before we start pigging it, boys?”

“THREE CHEERS FOR MR. I.M. GREEDYGUTS, FROM WHOM ALL GOOD THINGS FLOW!” they chorused back.

For lunch the boys were served soup made from hot water poured over a carrot, followed by rubbery chicken legs with boiled potatoes that were raw in the middle and, for dessert, gluey rice pudding; and Jacob Two-Two was served two portions of each, which just about made him sick to his stomach.

“Poor Jacob,” said Miss Lapointe.

Meanwhile, Mr. I.M. Greedyguts devoured a whole roast turkey with chestnut stuffing, washed down with a bottle of champagne, and followed by an entire cheesecake. Staggering to his feet, yawning, he said, “I am not to be disturbed for the next hour,” and then he waddled out of the dining hall.

At three o’clock Mr I.M. Greedyguts came upon Chris Lucas reaching into his locker for a can of Coca-Cola. “I’ll take that,” said Mr. I.M. Greedyguts, gulping it down.

When Jacob Two-Two got home that day, his stomach still aching, he was told that a letter had arrived for him. The envelope was empty, just as he expected. But, with Marfa’s help, he heated a kettle and steamed the stamp off the envelope. Then he was able to read the secret message underneath. “Back Friday. X. Barnaby Dinglebat, Master Spy.”