The Big Blueberry Barf-Off! (3 page)

Crench didn't say a word. He just pointed.

I let out a groan when I saw the kid in the center of the crowd. That spoiled rich kid, Sherman Oaks. My archenemy.

He had a big, toothy grin on his face. He was holding up a glowing object, waving it around to the crowd.

Sherman lives in the dorm across from Rotten House, the dorm we all hate. I can't even say the name of his dorm. When I say it, my teeth curl, my nose twitches, and my lips swell up like salamis.

It's called…It's called…(deep breath, Bernie)…NYCE House.

What kind of kid would want to live in a dorm called
Nyce
House?

More kids joined the crowd around Sherman. Kids were
oohing
and
aahing
.

Something glowed like gold on Sherman's wrist. What was he showing off this time?

I started to push my way through the crowd. But I stopped when I saw April-May June standing next to Sherman. She was holding on to his arm,
smiling
at him.

April-May June. The hottest, coolest girl in the whole fourth grade. April-May has wavy blond hair,
shiny blue eyes, and a smile almost as dazzling as mine. The girl is totally crazy nuts about me. Only she doesn't know it yet.

I elbowed some gawking fifth graders aside and stepped up to Sherman. “What is that on your wrist?” I asked. “Some kind of skin rash? Have you tried calamine lotion?”

Sherman turned and flashed me his smug, sixty-five-tooth smile. “It's my new digital watch, Bernie,” he said. He shoved it in front of my face. The sunlight beamed off the gold band, so bright it hurt my eyes.

“It has forty-two different functions,” Sherman said. “And it cost five hundred dollars. My parents
sent it to me because they think they can buy my love with fancy electronics.”

My mouth dropped open.
Forty-two functions?

April-May squeezed Sherman's arm. “Show him what it can do, Shermy.”

Shermy??

MY girlfriend
(only she didn't know it yet) was calling Sherman Oaks
Shermy?

Sherman swung the watch up so everyone could see it.

Give me a break. Why didn't they stop all that
oohing
and
ahhing
?

“Well, it's a camera, of course,” Sherman said. “And a video player. A phone. A palm pilot. An MP3 player. A printer. A tiny computer. Here's the keyboard.”

He pushed a button, and a computer keyboard slid out. Then he pushed another button, and a piano keyboard appeared.

“It has a small George Foreman grill on it,” Sherman announced. He opened the lid and showed it to everyone.

I turned to Crench. “It's
got
to weigh two hundred pounds,” I snickered. “He'll sprain his wrist.”

That was Crench oohing and ahhing! Traitor!

Sherman showed how he downloads all his homework onto his watch and e-mails it to Mrs. Heinie. I tugged April-May aside. I had to pry her fingers off Sherman's arm to pull her away.

“What do you want, Bernie?” she asked. She didn't look at me. Her eyes were still on the watch.

Sherman was showing how he makes his own animated films on the watch.

“April-May, I knew he was boring you with that piece of junk,” I said. “How annoying. A watch with only forty-two functions. I mean, that's
so
yesterday.”

April-May rolled her beautiful blue eyes. “What do you want, Bernie?”

“Well, they're having dance lessons at the Student Center on Saturday and—”

“No way, Bernie,” she said.

“I thought maybe you'd like to come with me and—”

“No way, Bernie,” she said.

“Maybe we could take the dance lessons together. You and me. I know I could teach you some awesome new moves.”

“No way, Bernie,” she said.

“Is that a
yes
?” I asked.

“No way, Bernie,” she said.

“I'll take that for a definite
maybe
,” I said.

April-May stuck her beautiful nose in the air. “I can't go on Saturday,” she said. “Sherman is showing me the twelve hidden compartments in his watch.”

Twelve
hidden compartments?
Ooh
.

Ahh
.

April-May hurried back to Sherman's side. Sherman still had his arm raised. He was snapping the gold wristband in everyone's face, showing off the crisp
snap
of real gold.

April-May held on to his arm and smiled into his smug, sneering face.

The watch…the watch had hypnotized her into thinking Sherman was a good guy.

Forty-two functions. Twelve hidden compartments. Solid gold…

I started to shake. My whole body quivered and quaked. My eyes bulged. My tongue flopped out of my mouth.

Feenman and Crench hurried up beside me. “Bernie, what's wrong?” Feenman asked.

“I've GOT to have that WATCH!” I cried. “It's MINE! I can already feel it on my wrist!”

“But,
how
, Bernie?” Feenman asked. “How are you going to get it?”

I waited till all the kids hurried off to class. As April-May trotted away, I saw her blow a kiss to Sherman.

How sick is that?

My girlfriend-to-be (who doesn't know it yet) blowing a kiss to Sherman Oaks?

That gave me the dry heaves. I covered it up by pretending I was coughing.

Then I turned and backed Sherman up against the statue of I. B. Rotten. “Sherman, my friend, we have to talk,” I said.

Sherman let out a cry. I. B. Rotten's knee was poking him in the back.

He held up the watch. “You want to feel it?” he asked. “Go ahead. I'll let you touch it for ten seconds. But don't get your paw prints all over it.”

I gazed at the watch. I started to drool. “A five-hundred-dollar watch, huh?” I said.

Sherman grinned. “Yes. My parents paid cash for it. You can do that when you're filthy rich.”

I blinked. The sunlight was reflecting off the shiny watch face.

“It's solid gold,” Sherman said. “And did I mention it has forty-two functions?”

“Too bad,” I said, lowering my eyes.

“Huh?” Sherman squinted at me. “Excuse me?”

“Too bad,” I repeated, shaking my head.

Sherman pulled the watch away from me. “Too bad? What do you mean, Bernie?”

“Too bad,” I said. I grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it. “A guy like you walking around with a watch like that. It's sad.”

Sherman's mouth dropped open. “Are you crazy? What's sad about it?”

“They sell those in the supermarket,” I said. “Check this out.” I grabbed his watch and twisted it over. Then I pretended to read the back. “I knew it. It says ‘Piggly Wiggly Food Stores' on it.”

Sherman jerked the watch away. He squinted at the back. “Huh? A supermarket watch? You've got to be kidding.”

“I shouldn't do this,” I said. “But you know I'm very generous when it comes to my friends….”

Sherman squinted at me. “Give me a break, Bernie. Since
when
am I your friend?”

“I'll tell you what,” I said. “I'll trade you
my
watch for yours.”

“Huh? You're joking, right? Ha-ha.”

“I know it's a bad deal,” I said. “My watch is a lot more valuable than yours. Mine is priceless. It belongs in a museum. But what can I say? I'm a sucker. I'm willing to trade.”

I grabbed Sherman's watch and tried to slide it off his wrist. I hoped he didn't see how eager I was.

“Whoa. Wait a minute,” he said, cupping his other hand over the watch. “What's so valuable about
your
watch?”

Think fast, Bernie!

“It's from ancient Egypt. It has an engraving of the Egyptian sun god, Ra. I shouldn't tell you this, Sherman. But my watch is probably worth a million dollars.”

He stared at my watch. “The ancient sun god, Ra? Really? Let me see it, Bernie.” He grabbed my wrist and checked out the watch. “Bernie, that's Mickey Mouse,” he said. “Dude, you've got a Mickey Mouse watch.”

“It's the sun god, Ra,
disguised
as Mickey Mouse!” I told him. “You don't think Ra would show his own face, do you?”

“Bye, Bernie,” Sherman said. He picked up his zebra-skin backpack and started away.

“Wait!” I cried. “I can pay you for the watch. Sherman—look.” I pulled a fat wad of dollar bills from my pants pocket. It was my life savings. My Eclipse Money.

Last Saturday night, I sold a bunch of second graders tickets to watch the eclipse of Mars. Two dollars each. They got to sit on the grass and stare at the sky. I told them how lucky they were. I told them the Martian eclipse happens only once every three thousand years.

But the kids were very confused.

“Where is it?”

“I don't see anything.”

“I can't see Mars. It's too dark!”

“Of
course
it's completely dark up there,” I told them. “That's how you know it's an
eclipse
!”

So the kids had a great time rolling around in the grass, staying up all night, partying with their friends.

And good old Bernie B. made a bundle that night. And now I waved the big wad of cash in front of Sherman's nose.

He sniffed it like a dog.

“It's all yours,” I said. “Cash money. For your watch.”

Suddenly, a shadow fell over me.

I spun around—and saw Headmaster Upchuck standing right behind me. His eyes weren't on me. They were on the thick wad of cash in my hand.

“Bernie Bridges!” the Headmaster cried. “Young man, what are you doing with all that cash?”