I’d never seen six hundred kids quiet down so fast.
I guess Mrs. McClure hadn’t either, because she smiled and said, “Why, thank you. Thank you very much.”
Then she said, “And welcome to the fifty-second annual Basket Boy Auction!
I know that your teachers have gone over the procedures with you in homeroom,
but I’ve been asked to remind you of a few things: This is a civilized proceeding.
No whistling, catcalls, or other degrading behavior will be tolerated. If you wish to place a bid, you must raise your hand high.
Bidding without raising your hand is prohibited, and should you decide to be a funny guy, you will be caught and detained or suspended.
Are we all clear on that? Good.” She looked from one side of the gym to the other. “Teachers, I see that you are in position.”
Six hundred heads turned slowly from side to side, looking at the blockade of teachers on either side of the gym.
“Man,” Darla whispered, “they’re not leaving much room for fun, are they?”
Mrs. McClure continued, “Minimum bid is ten dollars, and of course, the sky’s the limit, but we don’t accept IOUs.”
She pointed to her right. “Winning bidders should go directly to the table at the north door when I declare the basket to be sold.
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