The remains of the fire weren’t smoldering the next morning. The firefighters had made sure the bonfire was completely out before they left. All that remained were cold black cinders and gray ashes.
Two custodians from the high school trudged out to the parking lot to clean up the mess.
“Sure,” one of them said to the other, “a bonfire’s real fun. Unless you’re the guys who have to clean up the mess afterward.”
“It’s not that bad,” the other custodian answered. “We sweep up the ashes and hose off the parking lot. Simple.”
“Well then,” the first custodian said, snorting, “maybe I should just let you handle it by yourself.”
Despite his grumbling, they both got right to work with their push brooms. The bonfire had left lots of gray ashes and black chunks of scorched wood. But soon they noticed something else in the pile.
Something furry.
“What is that?” the first custodian asked.
“I don’t know,” said the second custodian, peering at the hairy mess in the pile of ashes. “I hope some poor animal didn’t wander into the fire last night.”
“I don’t think animals wander into big fires,” the first custodian said. “They’re not that dumb.”
Using a broom, they fished out the strange object. They stared at it. Then the first custodian realized what it was.
“It’s an animal, all right,” he said. “It’s Rocky the Ram.”
Sure enough, it was the charred remains of the costume worn by the school mascot. They could see the ram’s head and the furry ram’s suit with hooves on the ends of the sleeves and the legs. How had the costume ended up in the bonfire?
The two custodians looked around, puzzled. The second custodian noticed something white pinned to a nearby tree. “Looks like a note,” he remarked.
He quickly walked over to the sycamore to read the note. It read, GET READY TO GO DOWN IN FLAMES! VIKINGS RULE!
“Vikings?” the custodian said. “That’s the team over at Jefferson High School.”
“What should we do with this?” the first custodian asked, the burned costume still hanging off his broom.
The second custodian stood there looking at the note, thinking. “I say we take the whole mess to the principal.”
“Is he here? On a Saturday?”
“Probably. There’s a football game this afternoon. He’ll be here for that.”
His coworker nodded. They dropped the scorched costume into a garbage bag, unpinned the note from the tree, and headed into the school.
That afternoon Corey was at the football game between Woodlands High School and Jefferson High School.
He was not enjoying it.
He loved football. He loved playing it, and he loved watching other people play it—on TV or live and in person. On a sunny afternoon in fall, there was nothing he liked better than being outside playing or watching football. But he did not enjoy watching the team he was rooting for lose.
And today the Woodlands High School Rams were losing. Big time. At the moment, the score was 56 to 13. And it was only the third quarter.
The Jefferson High Vikings seemed to be scoring almost every time they got their hands on the football. And almost every time the Woodlands High Rams got their hands on the ball, they lost it to the Vikings.
Corey tried to experience the game as something other than a depressing, humiliating defeat. He decided to see it as a learning opportunity. He concentrated on analyzing what the Rams were doing wrong and what the Vikings were doing right.
Other fans around him in the stands were grumbling.
“What is wrong with this team?” one man said with a growl.
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” the man sitting next to him answered. “They should never have played without Rocky the Ram. That’s bad luck.”
“Where is Rocky, anyway?” the first man asked.
The second man shrugged. “I don’t know. But wherever he is, he’s having more fun than we are.”
A man sitting in front of them twisted around to share his opinion. “It’s got nothing to do with the mascot. The players just aren’t any good this year. In fact, they stink.”
“Hey!” the second man said. “Watch what you say. My son’s on that team!”
The men started arguing about why the team was losing so badly, and the spectators around them joined in. Some thought it was the players’ fault. Some thought it was the coach’s. Others thought it was the plays they were running. It was the defense. It was the offense. It was both. . . .
It was a lot more fun to argue about why the team was losing than to watch them lose.
Corey started thinking about how different things would be once he joined the high school team. He’d start scoring, and they’d start winning. And keep winning. Maybe even a state championship. He pictured himself running the length of the entire field, returning the ball from a kickoff to score a touchdown, dodging tacklers . . .
A cheer went up from the bleachers on the other side of the field. The Vikings had just scored another touchdown.
After the game, the principal of Woodlands High School had driven straight from the football field to the police station. He was actually glad he had an errand to run. He didn’t like the idea of hanging around after the Rams’ loss. Parents would just come up to him complaining and urging him to hire a new coach.
He liked the coach. He worked hard and seemed to really care about his players. He stressed the importance of getting good grades. And he was a good math teacher. It’d be awful to have to fire him just because he lost a few games. Or even a lot of games.
Inside the station, Principal Hall dropped a plastic bag onto the floor of Officer Inverno’s office. Officer Inverno sniffed.
“What’s in that?” he asked. “Smells like a brush fire.”
“It’s our mascot costume—Rocky the Ram,” Principal Hall explained. “Somebody burned it in our bonfire at the pep rally last night.”
The policeman opened the trash bag and took a look inside. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s pretty badly burned, but I recognize it.”
“Whoever did it left this note,” Principal Hall continued, handing Officer Inverno the note the custodians had found pinned to the tree.
“‘Get ready to go down in flames,’” the policeman read. He looked up at the principal. “Did they?”
The principal sighed. “Yes. The Rams lost. The Vikings were just too tough for them.”
Officer Inverno frowned. “I’m not sure this qualifies as a police matter. It’s really more of a school prank.”
“An expensive prank,” Principal Hall said. “These mascot costumes aren’t cheap. And our budget is already stretched to the breaking point as it is. Whoever did this shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.”
Officer Inverno nodded, thinking. Then he got an idea. “All right,” he said, standing up. “Leave the evidence with me. I think I’ve got a good idea about how to handle this.”
The principal smiled, relieved. He shook the policeman’s hand. “Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate it. Sorry to saddle you with this smoky-smelling mess.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Officer Inverno replied, grinning. “I’m not keeping this bag in my office any longer than I have to.”
Principal Inverno stared at the trash bag his brother had just dropped onto a chair in his office. “It smells like smoke,” Principal Inverno said. “I hope it doesn’t set off the fire alarms.” It was first thing Monday morning, and he really didn’t want to start his week at Woodlands Junior High School with a fire drill.
Officer Inverno smiled. “It smells like smoke because it’s got a burned mascot costume in it. Rocky the Ram.”
Principal Inverno looked confused. “I think you’ve mixed up your mascots, bro. The Rams are the high school team, not the junior high. We’re the Bobcats.”
“I’m well aware of that,” the policeman said. “I was hoping maybe you could help me find the culprit.”
Now the principal looked even more confused. “Me? Shouldn’t you handle this? Or if you’re too busy, maybe one of your fellow officers?”
“We’re all too busy,” Officer Inverno said, sighing. “We’re swamped. With lots of cases that are more important than a burned mascot costume.”
Principal Inverno fiddled with a pen. “Okay, but why bring it to me? Why not the principal of the high school? Principal Hall. It’s his mascot.”
His brother smiled. “Because you’ve got a forensic class. I was thinking this little mystery would be the perfect project for Miss Hodges and her students. They’ve done a good job before with cases that originated here in your school.”
“I believe it was Club CSI who solved those cases, not the whole class,” Principal Inverno said.
“However you want to handle it, bro. You’re the principal,” Officer Inverno said as he left, grinning.
Miss Hodges was preparing the day’s lesson in forensics when she thought she smelled something burning. Had someone lit one of the Bunsen burners in the lab? She hurried out of her tiny office into the classroom to find Principal Inverno holding a black trash bag in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.
“Hello, Principal Inverno,” she said, a little puzzled. “Is that garbage for me?”
He set the bag on the floor of the classroom. “It’s not garbage, though I’ll admit it does smell pretty bad. Smoky, anyway.”
He explained about the burned mascot costume, and how his brother the policeman had brought it by, thinking maybe the mystery would make a good project for her class.
“Now, I know you already have your lessons planned, so if you don’t want to do this, I’ll understand perfectly,” he concluded. “Actually, I’ll understand if you just don’t want this smelly mess in your classroom.”
Miss Hodges smiled. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. It’ll fit perfectly with my upcoming lesson on the forensics of fire investigation. And the smell doesn’t bother me. Visiting crime labs and morgues, I’ve smelled much worse.”
The principal was relieved. “I wasn’t sure whether you’d want this case to be handled by Club CSI or your whole class.”
“Oh, I think it’ll make a terrific project for the whole class,” she said enthusiastically. “Thank you!”
“No, I thank you,” Principal Inverno said as he left the classroom. “I’m very grateful to get Rocky the Ram out of my office.”