The Big Blueberry Barf-Off! (6 page)

BOOK: The Big Blueberry Barf-Off!
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Chapter 12
J
ENNIFER
E
CCH

I booted a fat mouse from my path and stepped outside. It was a cool, gray afternoon. But my brain was steaming hot. I was picturing twenty-five cakes turning into pies.

“Hey, Big B—what's up?”

Feenman and Crench were calling to me. We started walking across the Great Lawn toward Rotten House.

I explained the problem to them. “The pie-eating contest is a lock,” I said. “But how do we get the pies? Any ideas?”

“Run,” Feenman said.

“Yeah. Run,” Crench said.

“Run? Why?” I asked.

Crench pointed across the lawn. His finger trembled. “Here comes Jennifer Ecch!” he cried.

I turned and saw Nightmare Girl running at me full speed, like a tiger ready to pounce.

“Jennifer Ecch!” I shouted. “RUN!” I took off, my sneakers slapping the ground.

Behind me, I saw Jennifer Ecch soaring across the grass, her brown hair flying behind her head.

She's a big, strong girl, about a foot taller than me. I mean, she's a
really
big girl. Her
knees
are as big as my head!

Someone told me that she's here on an Arm
Wrestling scholarship.

I cut around a flower bed and darted into a bunch of bushes. I glanced back.

Jennifer was gaining on me. She had her hands outstretched, ready to grab me.

Sweat poured down my face as I dove through the bushes and dashed through a clump of apple trees. It's
so embarrassing
to be in fourth grade and have a girl who's madly in love with me.

What could be worse?

I was panting now. I picked up speed as I tore through another clump of bushes.

Behind me, I heard Jennifer's loud cry. She leaped and flew through the air. She tackled me from behind.

I went down hard, landing on my elbows and my knees. My glasses went flying.

Jennifer landed hard on top of me. We were both gasping for breath.

It was a struggle. But I finally pulled her off me. I climbed to my feet and brushed myself off.

“Hey, Jen—” I said. “I was
looking
for you!”

Chapter 13
T
HE
H
ORRIBLE
A
CCIDENT

“Huh? Looking for me?” Jennifer Ecch pulled herself to her knees. She wiped grass stains off her hands. She squinted at me with her one blue eye, one brown eye.

“Yeah. I was looking all over for you,” I said. I pulled a clump of leaves from my hair. I picked up my glasses.

“Is that why you ran so fast?” she asked.

She stood up and straightened her denim skirt. She had grass stains on those giant knees.

I flashed her my famous, five-star, fifty-two-tooth, dimpled grin.

Jennifer swooned. She gave me a dreamy look.

The dimples get them every time. Sometimes I push a pencil eraser into my dimples to make them deeper.

“Why were you looking for me, Sweet Cakes?” Jennifer asked.

I started to gag. “Please—
please
don't ever call me Sweet Cakes,” I begged. “It makes my ears sweat. Really. Look how they're sweating.”

“Well, why were you looking for me, Bernie?”

I reached into my pocket for an order form. “Would you like to buy a Bernie Bridges T-shirt? They're made out of rope. But they're very comfortable.”

Jennifer let out a roar. She lowered her head, rushed forward, and rammed her head into my stomach.

Ohh. I couldn't breathe! I felt like I'd been hit by a garbage truck. Moaning and groaning, I dropped to the ground. I sprawled on my back, struggling to breathe.

And Jennifer Ecch sat on my chest.

“Is that a no?” I asked.

“I bought
two
of them,” she said. “They scratched my skin until I bled. Three days after I stopped wearing them, I was
still
itching like crazy.”

I groaned some more. “Get off me, Jen. You're breaking my ribs. I need my ribs. They keep my chest on.”

Jennifer didn't budge. “I'll make you a deal, Bernie.”

“A deal?”

“I'll get up—if you take dance lessons with me at the Student Center Saturday night.”

I choked. “D-d-d-dance lessons? With y-
you
?”

“Bernie, why are you stuttering?”

“Because I think it's a great idea,” I said. “D-dance lessons with you. Awesome.”

Jennifer let out a squeal. She jumped to her feet. “Really? You want to do it?”

Holding my aching stomach, I stood up slowly. “Yeah. Only I can't do it, Jen. I can't dance. I may never dance again.”

I lowered my head sadly. I forced some tears to drip from my eyes.

Jennifer Ecch gazed at me. “Why, Bernie?” she cried. “What's wrong, Sweet Cakes?”

“My knees,” I said.

I started to stagger and stumble around, pressing
my knees together. “See? See how I'm walking? Isn't this terrible? I hurt my knees…in a horrible skiing accident.”

She squinted at me. “You ski?”

“Well…yeah. And I was caught in an avalanche. A huge snowdrift fell on my knees. Two tons of solid ice. My knees are still frozen stiff! I haven't been able to dance ever since.”

I staggered around some more.

“Oh, Honey Bunch, that's so sad!” Jennifer cried. She tried to wrap me in a hug, but I ducked away.

She glanced at her watch. “Oh, no. I'm late for Cooking class. We're getting ready to make cakes.”

“I know, I know,” I said. “Hey, Jen—do you know any way I could get Ms. Monella to bake pies instead?”

She squinted at me. “Bake pies?”

I nodded.

“If I tell you how, Bernie, will you take the dance lessons with me?”

“Sure,” I said. “Dance lessons. No problem.” I didn't really hear myself. I was thinking about blueberry pies.

Jennifer smiled at me. “Just ask her. That's all.”

“That's your big idea?” I cried. “Just ask her? No way. She'll know it's for one of my schemes. She's much too smart to do anything I ask.”

“Not true,” Jennifer said. “Sally Monella is a pushover. She's totally soft-hearted. Last week, a kid started crying his eyes out because he missed his mother's hamburgers. So guess what? We all made hamburgers.”

My brain started hissing and steaming again. “Crying, huh? Crying worked on her?”

“Yes. Crying always works with Ms. Monella. Gotta run, Sweet Cakes.” Jennifer took me by
surprise. She grabbed my head and planted a big kiss on my forehead.

Ecch. I took off, running to the dorm to wash it off.

Chapter 14
25 B
LUEBERRY
P
IES

“Okay, Chipmunk—here she comes,” I whispered.

We were huddled outside the classroom kitchen. Chipmunk sat on the floor with his head in his lap. I saw Ms. Monella coming down the hall.

“Okay, start crying,” I said. “Make it look good, Chipmunk. Don't forget to sob real loud. And move your shoulders up and down.”

Chipmunk started to whimper.

“No. No good!” I said, shaking him. “No whimpering—crying.
Sobbing
. Hurry. Get going. Make it good, dude!”

Chipmunk started to sob, shaking his shoulders up and down.

Ms. Monella trotted up to us. “Why, good afternoon, Bernie. How are y'all today?” She has a very soft voice and speaks in a sweet Southern drawl.

“I'm fine,” I said. “But…” I pointed to Chipmunk, sobbing his heart out.

“Oh, my goodness!” Ms. Monella exclaimed. “What's wrong with your friend?” she asked me.

“It's because of his birthday,” I said. “His birthday is
coming up. His mom always bakes him a blueberry pie for his birthday. It's the first year he won't have one.”

I nudged Chipmunk in the back, and he let out some really loud sobs. He kept his head down, weeping hard.

Ms. Monella shook her head. “Ah think ah have an idea,” she told me.

She turned to my sobbing friend. “Chipmunk, don't cry,” she said. “We
were
going to bake chocolate cakes for the School Bake Sale—but forget that. I'll go buy a bushel of blueberries. And I'll have everyone in my class bake a blueberry pie.”

She patted his quivering shoulders. “Cheer up, Chipmunk,” she said. “We'll bake
twenty-five
blueberry pies tomorrow, and you can come choose one for your birthday!”

I grabbed Chipmunk by the back of the neck and pulled his head up. “Look. He's smiling already!” I said. “You've made him so happy, Ms. Monella.”

She smiled, too. “Well, that's just wonderful. I'd better get to the store and buy up all their blueberries.”

“Yes. Definitely. Go to the store,” I said. A grin
crossed my face. “Yes. Twenty-five pies. That should be about right.”

I felt my wrist. It started to tingle.

Whoa! Of course my wrist was tingling. Tomorrow night I'd be wearing the watch on that wrist!

BOOK: The Big Blueberry Barf-Off!
10.74Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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