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popping.
    I could only imagine what he was thinking. Until very recently, this was a kid whose idea of an arctic environment was the ice cube tray in his freezer.
    “And people say Florida is nuts,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Just because you run across the occasional alligator.”
    The bus squeezed past the mountain and pulled up in the unloading area. Cars were backed up all the way to the main road. Out in front of the school building, Principal Gorton directed traffic.
    Gabby turned and got a picture of the principal waving at the stream of vehicles trying to turn into the lot. She wore orange gloves and looked like she belonged on an airport runway landing jumbo jets. All she needed was a control tower. If she’d had one, maybe people would have paid more attention. As it was, cars jockeyed for position, horns blaring, as everyone tried to get a close-up view ofRambletown’s newest natural wonder.
    The bus driver cranked the lever that opened the door. One by one, we filed down the steps. At the bottom, several teachers waited like prison guards. They guided us briskly to a shoveled walkway that led to the front doors of the school. Mounds of snow stood so high on either side that passing between them felt like walking along the floor of a canyon.
    I turned and gazed over my shoulder at the mountain. More teachers were stationed around the base, making sure nobody got any bright ideas about climbing it. Someone had set up a few sawhorses to keep people away from the slopes. If they were real horses, I’m sure they would have bolted. One avalanche and they would be like pirate’s treasure: buried.
    On an icy ridge way up the steep slope, I swear I could just make out the profiles of four presidents. It was like Mount Rushmore, only the faces were different. I recognized John F. Kennedy right away. He’s on a half-dollar mygrandfather gave me for my birthday one year. But I wasn’t sure who his three partners were.
    The Mount Rambletown presidents were stone-cold huge. They also looked just plain cold.
    Gabby snapped off a string of pictures.
    “This is hot stuff,” she exclaimed.
    “Cold, you mean,” I said.
    “It’s no fair,” complained Stump, his voice echoing off the banks of snow that rose on either side of us.
    “What’s no fair?” asked Slingshot.
    “All the barricades and stuff,” Stump said, pointing to the mountain with disgust. “They sure know how to kill a good time around here. I would do anything to conquer that beast. There are probably ice caves to explore and everything.”
    “Definitely,” agreed Gasser. “Unfortunately, I won’t be climbing anything for a while.” He raised a crutch and waved its rubber tip toward Mount Rambletown. “You guys’ll have to go upwithout me and come back with a full report. I expect lots of pictures.”
    “Pictures are easy.” Gabby smiled as we entered school. “Pictures we can do.”
    We started walking again. The bell would ring at any minute. Monster snow peak or not, none of us wanted to be late our first Monday back.
    But Stump was right.
    It isn’t every day that a gigantic geologic formation appears practically in your own backyard. We were going to have to figure out a way to get around the security.
    Somehow, some way, we needed to mount an expedition to the summit.

CHAPTER 9
    I n Rambletown Elementary’s wide entry hall, kids sloshed in every direction. The gray tile floor was slick from hundreds of pairs of slushy boots. You practically could have paddled a canoe on it, that’s how wet the floor was.
    Orlando hesitated among long glass cases full of school trophies. He seemed a little lost. Suddenly it occurred to me that he didn’t know which way to go. The guys and I had bonded so quickly with Orlando at baseball practice that it was easy to forget our familiar old school was completely foreign to him.
    “What room are you in, Orlando?” I asked.There were two sixth-grade classes.
    “Number twelve, I think,” he