A whiskey bottle? Mr Strickland drank? In the high school?
Strickland took a drink straight from the bottle, then swivelled his chair around so that his back was to Marty.
But how could Marty get his hands on the Almanac? He couldn’t very well just march in there and say, ‘Excuse me. Mr Strickland,' - could he?
Then he saw that Strickland’s desk had an open space in the middle - the place where Strickland would stick his knees - that went all the way through. If Marty could get in there - and it was only a couple of feet away - without Strickland seeing him, maybe he could grab the sports book while the vice-principal’s back was still turned, and get out of here!
It was worth a try. He crouched down and ran into the room, dropping down on the opposite side of the desk from Strickland. He crawled into the knee-hole, and saw that the disciplinarian had turned his head toward the door. Had the vice-principal heard Marty? But then Strickland shrugged and took another swig from the bottle. He looked back out of the window.
Marty crawled through the space under the desk, until he was right by Strickland's swivel chair. He reached his hand up to feel the top of the desk. The Almanac had to be up there somewhere. There! His fingers brushed it. If he could just -
Strickland’s chair creaked as he turned. His knee crushed Marty’s hand against the desk. Somehow, Marty managed to pull his hand free. Somehow, he also managed not to yell. The vice-principal turned back to the desk, sticking his knees right in Marty’s face!
But then Strickland leaned back in his chair to stare out of the window one more time. Marty knew right where the book was now. It might be a little riskier with Strickland this much closer, but all Marty needed was one good grab. He leaned forward —
And Strickland turned back to the desk. Marty pushed himself back as he heard the vice-principal stick the bottle back in the drawer and then push the drawer shut.
Strickland stood. He looked like he was ready to leave. And, as he walked away, Marty saw the vice-principal’s hands were empty. He wasn’t taking the book with him. Maybe Marty could get hold of the Sports Almanac at last. The vice-principal took a step away, then looked back, and picked up the book!
Oh, no! Marty didn’t want to start this all over again!
Strickland walked to the door - and threw the book into the wastebasket at the corner of the desk!
Marty started breathing again. At last! He waited for Strickland to leave the office, then scrambled from his hiding place to grab the book from the trash. Here it was, with its red and silver dust jacket: Grey's Sports Almanac.
The book fell open as Marty grabbed it. His mouth fell open, too, when he saw the pages, full of photos of scantily clad women! Marty pulled off the dust cover. Underneath was Ooh-La-La!, one of Biffs girlie magazines!
‘Shit!’ Marty yelled. He couldn’t believe this!
He pulled his walkie-talkie out of his pocket.
‘Doc!’ he said as he pressed the ‘talk’ button. ‘Trouble. I blew it.’ He quickly described what had happened to him.
'Where's the book?’ Doc’s voice answered him.
Marty hadn’t even thought about that. ‘Biff must still have it on him!’
‘Where’s Biff?’ Doc asked.
‘I don’t know!’ Marty exclaimed, his voice close to despair.
He looked out the window of Strickland’s office. He could see out to the parking lot. There was George McFiy. hiking up his pants, getting ready to go over to the Packard. If only, Marty thought, everything they had to do had stayed as simple as that.
‘Don’t you have any idea where he is?’ Doc demanded.
‘No, Doc,* Marty replied grimly. ‘He could be anywhere by now. For all I know he could have hopped a Greyhound and left town! ’
‘Great Scott!’ Doc exclaimed. ‘This is serious shit!’
‘Tell me about it!’ Marty answered, ready to descend into misery.
‘Think, Marty, think!’ Doc insisted. ‘Where would Biff have gone?’
Marty shook his head. ‘Doc, if I knew that, I’d go after him.’
But Doc just wouldn’t let it go. ‘Marty, the entire future depends on your finding Biff and getting that book back!’
‘I know, Doc. I just don’t know where to -’