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to Coach Stroganoff's office. I sawed off the ropes on my hands and feet with his letter opener.

    Leave it to Hicky Elementary to have a coach so tough he uses a steak knife as a letter opener.
    "Quick, Chet!" said Natalie. "Get me out of here. The game's about to start."
    She was right. We could hear the marching band playing its last song. Or maybe they were beating it to death. It was hard to tell the difference.
    The team would kick off any minute now. I climbed the high dive and began hacking at the rope holding Natalie's tail.
    "Wait a second," said Natalie. "Don't cut
that
rope, you bug brain—I'll drown if I fall. Cut the rope around my wings first."

    "Hey, who you calling bug brain? Remember who's holding the knife."
    "Chet, please!"
    Hanging by my feet from the diving board, I could just reach the rope around her wings. I stretched my arm to its fullest and sawed at the rope. When it gave, Natalie stretched her wings suddenly.
    The knife was knocked from my hand and slipped into the stinky pool.
Splash!
    "Smooth move!" I said. "Now look what you've done."
    "Hurry, Chet! Get me out of here!"
    She managed to untie her feet using her beak. I fumbled with the remaining knots and finally untied Natalie's tail.
    Natalie fell like a sack of birdseed, then spread her wings, just skimming the pool's surface. She landed poolside.
    With one sad look back, I left my old tail hanging from the diving board. I'd start growing another one in a week or so.
    "Wow, you look weird," said Natalie.
    "This ain't no beauty contest, sister," I said. "Now take me up on your back and let's fly out to that field."
    For once, she didn't argue.

    I hopped onto her back. Natalie flapped heavily out toward the football field. We swerved, almost creaming a tall trash can.
    "Watch out!" I said.
    Her belly feathers scraped a low fence. Coming in under the trees, she almost lost me on a scraggly branch. The field was just ahead.
    "Faster, Natalie!"
    The band made one last blast, like a water buffalo losing its lunch.
    The song was over. The game was about to begin.
    I spotted Herman and his gang under the bleachers.
    "Drop me off here," I told Natalie. "I'll handle their 'little friends.' You get that garbage football."
    "Be careful," she said.
    "You, too, partner."
    Natalie grinned and took off. I ran across the end zone.
    A short green referee with bad hair gave our quarterback the football. The referee looked familiar. But I had no time for guessing games.
    "Chester Gecko!" a voice shouted. "Come here this instant!"
    It was Ms. Glick, beside the bleachers. She was not a happy gator.
    I looked back at the field. Our team was kicking off. The center hiked the ball, and the quarterback caught it. He planted the football.

    The kicker ran toward it, and the whole team began running with him. The crowd jumped to its feet and roared.
    "Go, Natalie!" I shouted.
    Natalie flapped her heart out. The kicker, a beefy chipmunk, charged the football. When he booted it, the ball would burst into a million pieces of stinky garbage—all over the team.
    Everything seemed to move in slow motion.
    Flap, flap!
went Natalie's wings. The kicker's legs pumped. The crowd chanted, "Gophers! Gophers!" And Ms. Ghck snarled as she strode toward me.
    Just before the chipmunk's foot hit the ball, Natalie swooped low and snatched it from under the quarterback's fingers.
    "Hey!" he said. "That's our ball!"
    Natalie flapped across the field and over the bleachers. From the crowd, hands reached for her and missed. She dumped the ball in a trash can.
    A small fountain of funky garbage—brown bananas, rotten cheese, and rancid mothloaf—shot skyward as the ball burst.
    I looked back at the field...
    And ducked fast as Ms. Glick grabbed at me. I dodged under her leathery arms and beat feet up the sidelines.

    Herman and the short referee were dragging the wriggly sack from under the bleachers. The referee's wig slipped. Then I knew: It was Billy! Helping Herman!
    They