Finneytown still isn’t a real school. I decide when I was home in October that I’d go to a football game, just to see the marching band. (Apparently they were having a great season.) Mr Canter had told me they’d be playing on Friday. So I biked all the way to Reading High School (up an enormous hill), only to find out that Reading’s field is quite a ways away from its school. A random guy gave me directions, and so I biked back down the big giant hill, but on a different face – so steep it has ridges carved into it for traction. That was fun. So far all the mishappening has been Reading’s fault.

I got to the game and paid my $4 to get in. And the team was playing, but there were about three people in the stands for Finneytown. And none of them were for the band. I couldn’t see them anywhere. I asked one of the three guys, “Is there such a thing as the Finneytown band at this game?” and he said it was senior night. So let’s review:

• Mr Canter told me the band would be playing on a night that it wasn’t.
• The football game drew a big home crowd from Reading, but the Finneytown crowd could’ve come over in a Mini Cooper.
• When I got there, the team was (predictably) losing by a lot.
• The cheerleaders were there, and their cheer went like this, with a * being a silent beat:

  Let’s * get * a little bit rowdy!
  Wildcats are * * rowdy!

Yep, they rhymed “rowdy” with “rowdy”. Still not a real school. At least Reading gave me my $4 back.

P.S. When I went there, the cheerleaders would put posters up before each game urging the Wildcats to defeat the other team, with various words used for “defeat”. One of them was “twomp”, as in “GO WILDCATS! TWOMP MADEIRA!” I feel bad that I just typed that.