101 Ways to Bug Your Friends and Enemies Read Online Free Page B

nose?” Mr. Barker faced Scarecrow & Co. “Gentlemen, I’ll ask once more: What is going on here ?”
    Scarecrow smoothed his scowl. “Nothing, sir,” he said. “My teammates and I were just playing a few holes, when this punk—”
    Mr. Barker held up a hand. “This punk happens to be a valued employee at Gadabout.”
    (I was, in fact, the only employee.)
    â€œI meant no disrespect, sir. This youngster charged at me with—”
    â€œIf you’ve hurt him . . .” Mr. Barker’s words trailed a threat.
    â€œWe didn’t do anything to him,” Scarecrow insisted.
    â€œYet,” Ace murmured.
    â€œZey meant to tenderize Sneeze like zee tough steak!” Pierre said. “To mince ’im like zee onion! To crack ’im like zee egg! To—”
    â€œIs this true, Peach?” Mr. Barker asked.
    Hayley blinked. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
    â€œIn addition,” announced a voice behind me, “they were whacking balls hither and yon, a most dangerous form of amusement.”
    I’d never heard Hiccup speak with such strength and confidence. And why wasn’t he gasping? His usual idea of a workout is taking his own blood pressure. Scurrying to fetch Mr. Barker should’ve exhausted him.
    â€œA golf ball, on impact, could inflict ocular trauma,” Hiccup said. “Or a life-threatening injury called diffuse axonal .”
    â€œIs that a lumberjack’s disease?” Goldie asked, still scribbling notes.
    â€œI’ve heard enough.” Mr. Barker jerked a thumb toward the exit. “You five: Out. Now. Don’t come back.”
    â€œWe demand a refund!” Scarecrow said.
    â€œBreak the rules, forfeit the cash.”
    â€œYou can’t treat me this way! I’m the captain of the Patrick Henry High School Varsity Golf Team!”
    â€œI don’t give a golf ball’s dimple. But your coach might if he has to bail you boys out of jail. And that’s exactly where you’ll be if I catch any of you on my property again.”
    â€œFat chance we’d want to come back to this pit,” Scarecrow said with a sneer. “We’re gone.”
    His triplets stepped over me one by one, their cleats barely skimming past my schnoz.
    Scarecrow stepped last. Then he shoved his face so close to mine his peppermint breath stung my eyes. “This isn’t over, Snot Boy,” he said. “I’ll teach you to keep your nose out of my business!”
    Just once couldn’t a bully say: Whatever was I thinking? Sorry for the inconvenience. I shan’t bother you again.
    â€œLeave the clubs,” Mr. Barker called.
    The clubs dropped. Cullen the Bear twirled his putter between two fingers before handing it to Hayley.
    â€œSorry.” He jerked his head at Scarecrow. “He one haole moke .”
    â€œUh-huh,” she said, the syllables as glazed as her eyes.
    He ambled after the team and through Gadabout’s gates.
    â€œThat’s that!” Mr. Barker brushed imaginary dust from his hands. “How’d I do, Peach? Aren’t you proud of your old man?”
    Hayley’s dad is well known for going too easy on players who ignore Gadabout’s rules. That’s why, three years ago, after her mom died in a car accident, Hayley acquired the SOS—and her reputation for giving zilch .
    â€œMm,” she said, seemingly transfixed by the club in her hands. “Oh, yes, Daddy.” She hugged him. “You did great standing up to those goons.”
    What about me? Hadn’t I stood up to them too?
    â€œA little help here!” I said. “Hayley? Hic? Somebody ?”
    Mr. Barker unhooked my ear, then pulled me from the swamp. I swayed, clutching his arm, dripping sludge. I sneezed. Three shades of green—pea soup, pippin apple, and Japanese jade—shot out both nostrils.
    Pierre grimaced. “You look like zee