Sewer Rats by Sigmund Brouwer Page B

bothered to try out for a team. As for Carter, I didn’t know much about him yet. But if he wanted to be part of our gang, that probably said something about him too.
    â€œIt makes me angry,” Miss Pohl said, finally facing us again, “when a police officer comes into this school and calls all of you losers. It makes me angry when I hear other people say it too. Because I know it’s not true. You are not losers.”
    She sighed. “I just wish you kids would figure that out before it’s too late.”
    â€œAbout the videotape,” I began.
    â€œJim McClosky,” she said to me. “Don’t give me one of your excuses. It’s all there, in black and white.”
    Who would have thought the city would have video surveillance at a sewage lagoon. Like there’s something there to steal.
    â€œIt’s my fault,” Carter said. “They had nothing to do with it. It was my idea. They were just there because they didn’t believe I’d be so dumb. I deserve all the punishment.”
    â€œActually,” I said. “It’s my fault. It was my idea. I deserve the punishment.”
    â€œNo,” Micky said. “It was my idea. I’m the one who should get punished.”
    Miss Pohl sighed. “Lisa, are you going to try to take the blame too?”
    â€œNot a chance,” she said. She fired an angry look at Carter. Another sigh from Miss Pohl.
    â€œI have no choice here,” she said. “I’ve got to take action. I’m told I should suspend the four of you.”
    She shook her head. “But what good would that do? School is your best chanceof proving that you aren’t losers. I just wish you kids could see yourselves the way I see you.”
    â€œUm,” I said, “I’d feel really horrible if you made me miss school for a few days. Please don’t suspend us.”
    â€œNice try, McClosky,” she said, smiling. “I know you’re joking. I also know you have a great imagination. Ever dream of writing stories?”
    I’d never considered that. Sure I always ran stories through my head, but to put them on paper?
    â€œAnd Micky, what do you dream of becoming someday? Lisa? Carter?”
    We didn’t answer.
    â€œHere’s what I’m going to do,” she said. “By next Friday, I want a three-page essay from each of you about what you’d like to do most when you’re finished school.”
    â€œThat’s it?” Micky said.
    â€œNo. There will be some community work involved too. Don’t be surprised if it involves scrubbing toilets.”
    We groaned.
    â€œAnd please,” she said. “Nothing else, all right? If I have to call you in the office again, there will likely be social workers involved.”
    Not good.
    I decided not to mention we had another paintball war in the sewer tunnels the next morning.

chapter three
    Five Sewer Rats met after school. We stood outside the Seven-Eleven. There was Lisa, Micky, the Cooper twins, Al and Dave, and me. The Cooper twins are tall, skinny, redheaded and hardly ever speak.
    Their mom and dad are both doctors. You’d think this would be good, but their parents are always either working or on vacation, leaving the Cooper twins withthe nanny who has raised them since they were babies.
    â€œIt’s like this,” Micky said to Lisa. “Maybe we should lay low for a while.”
    â€œWe?” she asked, kicking at a chocolate bar wrapper on the pavement.
    â€œThe Sewer Rats. Maybe we should hold off on tomorrow’s paintball war against the guys at Medford school. If anything happens and Old Bean Pohl brings in social workers...”
    â€œNo way,” she said. “Not a chance. We’re Sewer Rats. Not sewer chickens.”
    Her tone didn’t scare Micky like it did me.
    â€œLook,” he said. “Yesterday—”
    â€œWhat about it?” she snapped. “Some stupid kid fell in a