The Big Blueberry Barf-Off! (2 page)

Tweet tweet tweet.

My bird alarm clock woke me up gently. I opened my big brown eyes and smiled. Catch those dimples in my cheeks. I always wake up with a smile.

Hey, I'm Bernie Bridges. Why shouldn't I smile?

I had no idea today was the day it would all start. No idea what I'd find when I stepped outside.

No idea that today would lead to the Biggest Pie Battle in the history of the school—maybe the WORLD!

How could I know? I was still half-asleep.

I raised my head. I could hear the other guys in my dorm rushing out to the Dining Hall to get breakfast.

Hey, am I going to hurry? No way. I settled back on my feather pillow and smiled some more.

I knew my faithful friend Belzer would bring my breakfast on a tray. Belzer brings me breakfast in bed every morning.

Good kid, Belzer.

I sat up and stretched. “Bernie, you've got it made!” I told myself. I talk to myself a lot. I mean, who
else
understands pure genius?

I put on my glasses. Sunlight poured through my window. The curtains fluttered in a cool breeze. I gazed at my favorite poster on the wall, the big poster of ME.

You probably go home every day after school. Poor sucker. My parents travel all the time. So they sent me to the Rotten School, my home away from home.

It's a boarding school, see. That means I get to live in a dorm with my friends. No parents.

How cool is that?

Actually, we live in an old house called Rotten House. A whole bunch of my fourth-and fifth-grade friends live on my floor. We claimed the third floor because it's good for dropping water balloons out the window.

Mrs. Heinie doesn't know about that. But she knows just about everything else that goes on here.

Mrs. Heinie is our dorm mother. She's really nice, but she has a job to do. That means she's always snooping around, sniffing in corners, keeping an eye on us.

Mrs. Heinie is also our fourth-grade core teacher. She has her own apartment in the attic.

“Yo, dude,” I called out to Belzer as he carried in my breakfast tray.

“Morning, Big B,” he said. He's a chubby guy with red hair that falls down over his eyes, and he has freckles everywhere. He set my breakfast tray down and pulled off the cover.

“Good work!” I said, slapping him on the back.

“Hey, thanks, Bernie.” He smiled that lopsided smile of his. Anyone can see his braces haven't helped at all.

Maybe I'll adjust them for him later. I'm a
wizard
with a pair of pliers.

“You're looking sharp today, Belzer,” I said.

Belzer was wearing his Rotten School blazer and tie. But under the tie, he wore a white T-shirt with bright red letters that said: ASK ME ABOUT MY ALLERGIES.

I once made the mistake of asking Belzer about his allergies. He said, “I don't have any. I just like the shirt.”

I started to eat my breakfast.

“I strained the pulp from your orange juice,” Belzer said.

“Good work, dude.”

“And I got you extra blueberries for your pancakes.”

“Excellent, Belzer. The soft blueberries, right? Not the chewy ones.”

“Yeah. I tested each one,” Belzer said. “And your toast is just the way you like it.”

I picked up a slice of toast and checked it out. “Light on one side, dark on the other. Perfect, Belzer. Good work, fella!”

“Thank you, Big B.” He flashed his crooked smile.

I started to dig into the pancakes. I looked up. Two guys stood in the doorway. They were eyeing my breakfast hungrily.

“Well, well. Look who's here!” I said.

My two best buddies, Feenman and Crench, came walking in.

Feenman and Crench are tall and lean and goofy-looking. They grin a lot and punch each other a lot and can never stand still.

Feenman has long, stringy hair that hangs down like a mop. Crench's hair is short and flat. That's because his
head
is flat!

“Whussup, Big B?” Crench asked.

Feenman reached for a slice of toast. I had to slap his hand away.

Belzer, Feenman, and Crench are crammed into the tiny room across from me. They
insisted
that I have my own room. They know I need a lot of space for planning and scheming.

“Okay, guys. Give me the report,” I said. “How are the Bernie Bridges T-shirts selling?”

Crench shook his head. “They're not selling, Bernie.”

“How many have you sold?” I asked. “Twenty? Thirty?”

“None,” Feenman replied. “N-u-n-n. None.”

“I think you spell none with a
y
,” Crench said.

“Never mind the spelling lesson,” I said. “Why aren't kids buying the Bernie Bridges T-shirts?”

“Because they're itchy,” Crench said. “Kids don't want to pay five dollars for a T-shirt that makes them scratch all day.”

“But it's got my picture on it!” I said.

Crench shook his head again. “Bernie, we told you not to make the T-shirts out of rope. No one wants to wear a rope T-shirt.”

“But rope is cheaper than cotton,” I said. “I have to make a profit, don't I?”

Feenman shrugged. “We couldn't even sell them to the third graders, Big B. I think you should give up.”

“Give up?” I cried. I jumped to my feet. “Give up?
How
dare
you use those words with me! Do I ever give up for
you
?”

They lowered their heads. “No, Bernie,” they both answered.

Feenman made another grab for the toast. I jabbed him with my fork.

“I never give up,” I said. “I do everything for you guys. I do the impossible for you guys—don't I?”

“Yes, you do, Big B,” Belzer said. He turned to Feenman and Crench. “Who convinced the cook that a Milky Way bar is a
vegetable
?”

“Bernie did,” they both answered.

“And who convinced Headmaster Upchuck to make Game Boys a required
school supply
?” Belzer asked.

“Bernie did.”

“Who convinced Mrs. Heinie to give extra credit for putting your name at the top of your test?” Belzer asked.

“Bernie did!” Feenman and Crench replied.

“Don't forget wedgies,” I whispered to Belzer.

“Oh, right!” Belzer said. “Who got Coach Bunz to make Giving Wedgies a varsity sport?”

“Bernie did,” they answered. “Bernie did!”

“You're the
best
, Big B!” Belzer cried.

We all cheered and slapped high fives and did the secret Rotten House handshake.

“So get out there and sell those rope T-shirts,” I said.

“Sell, sell, sell!” Feenman and Crench shouted, pumping their fists in the air. And they hurried out the door.

A few minutes later, I put on my school uniform and headed downstairs. I didn't want to be late for my first class with Mrs. Heinie.

I stopped in the front hall. From the back of the house I could hear screams and a sharp, stinging sound—
slap slap slap
.

Just some guys having fun in the shower room. Slapping one another silly with wet towels.

The Rotten School is a very old school. And we have a lot of wonderful, old traditions here. Wet-towel smacking is one of our favorites.

I stepped back and listened….

“Ow!”

“Good one, Zuckerman!”

“Ow!”

“Good one, Klooper!”

Hey, I love the sound of snapping towels. Know why? Because I rent out the towels.

Guys don't mind paying fifty cents a towel when they know they're getting a good
smack
for their money.

I stepped out the front door and down the steps. Then I started to jog across the Great Lawn to class.

It was a sunny September day. The grass sparkled. The sky was cloudless and blue.

My backpack bounced on my back. It was empty.

Belzer was carrying all of my books for me.

Good kid, Belzer.

I stopped when I saw the crowd of kids on the grass. They were gathered around the statue of I. B. Rotten. What were they doing there?

I. B. Rotten was the guy who started this school a hundred years ago. Guess who he named it after?

Old I. B. was my kind of guy: a zillionaire. He made his money by owning grocery stores all over the U.S., called Rotten Food Shoppes.

The statue of I. B. Rotten stands on a pedestal in the center of the Great Lawn. He has a very long nose that looks like an animal snout. He has tiny, round eyes and short, furry hair.

He looks a lot like an anteater wearing a suit. But
The Rotten School Student Guidebook
says on page three that he was human.

Last spring, someone who I won't name—Feenman—snuck out one night and painted the long nose on the statue bright red.

Feenman is really into painting things red. It's kind of his hobby.

Anyway, they tried for months, but no one could get the paint off the statue. So now it looks like I. B. Rotten always has a very bad cold.

Why were all the kids huddling around the statue this morning? I saw Feenman and Crench in the crowd. I hurried over to them.

“What's up? What's all the excitement?”