The Great Smelling Bee (2 page)

The Whole Other Chapter began this morning.

I was smiling. Innocent. Happy. Did I have a care in the world?

I don't think so.

My faithful friend Belzer carried my breakfast in on a tray. He brings me breakfast in bed every morning.

Good kid, Belzer.

It took me a long time to train him. But it was worth it.

Belzer is a chubby guy with red hair and freckles. This morning he was wearing his Rotten School
blazer. We all have to wear the school uniform.

But under his blazer, Belzer was wearing a white T-shirt with bright blue letters across the front. The T-shirt said:
I NEED A TUTOR
.

Sad, huh?

He wears these loser T-shirts. But, hey—I always tell him he's looking good. I like to keep my guys happy.

Belzer poured my orange juice for me. Then he went across the hall to his room.

I nibbled on a few things…eggs, bacon, blueberry muffins, hash brown potatoes, flapjacks, cornflakes with bananas, and apple cobbler.

All part of a healthy breakfast—right?

After I swallowed the last crumb of cobbler, I did the Official Rotten School Burp for a few minutes.

Then I climbed out of bed and put on my school uniform.

I practiced smiling in the mirror for a while. “Bernie, those dimples are
killer
!”

Happy. Innocent. Carefree.

And then the box arrived.

Belzer staggered into my room, carrying a HUGE wooden crate in both arms. “Big B, this just came for you,” he said. “I…I carried it up three flights of stairs.” He let out a groan. “Heavy,” he muttered. “Heavy.” His knees buckled, and he fell to the floor.

“Why don't you set it down?” I asked.

“Oh. Good thinking.” Belzer dropped the crate. Then he sprawled facedown on the floor, gasping for breath.

My two best buddies, Feenman and Crench, walked into the room.

Feenman and Crench are tall and lean and goofy looking. But they are serious dudes. Serious about having fun twenty-four hours a day.

Feenman has a strange hobby. He likes to paint things red when no one is looking. And Crench's hobby? Making funny noises with balloons.

Good guys.

Belzer, Feenman, and Crench are crammed into
the tiny room across from me. They insisted I take the big room for myself. They knew I need my own space. Lots of quiet so I can plan and scheme.

“What's up with the box?” Feenman asked.

I helped pull Belzer to his feet. “Probably a gift from one of my admirers,” I said. “Maybe the teachers all chipped in to buy me something special. You know. To thank me just for being me.”

Crench walked around the crate. “The box is as big as our room,” he said. “After you empty it, could I live in the box, Bernie?
Could
I?”

“Don't be bitter,” I said. I studied the wooden crate. “Maybe April-May June sent me a big box of chocolates.”

April-May June is the coolest, hottest, blondest, snobbiest girl in the fourth grade. “It's about time she started to notice me,” I said. I patted the side of the box. “Think she sent me flowers?”

“Bernie, the box is from your parents,” Feenman said. “Look at the writing on the side. It says ‘Mr. and Mrs. Benny Bridges.'”

“My parents sent this box?” I felt a little pang in my heart, a moment of sadness. I love living at the
Rotten School, but sometimes I miss my parents.

They are travel writers, so they travel all the time. That's why they send me to boarding school. We keep in touch by e-mail and cell phone. I get to tell them how great I'm doing and how everyone thinks I'm awesome.

But it isn't the same as telling them in person.

I studied the box. “A present from my parents…hmmm.” What could it be?

Maybe it's a car,
I thought. They know I
hate
walking to class. No. Maybe it's a PlayStation with a few hundred games. They know I need time off. I've been studying way too hard.

No. Suddenly, I knew.

“Dudes, why aren't you cheering?” I cried. “Why aren't you celebrating? Come on—hurry. Go crazy. Go crazy!”

They stared at me.

“Don't you know this is our lucky day?” I said. “Don't you know what's in the box? It's the widescreen TV I've been begging for!”

“Yes!” Belzer shouted, pumping his fists in the air. “Sweet!”

“I finally convinced my parents that TV is educational,” I said. “I said I need to watch
Fear Factor
every week to learn what
not
to do!”

“Sweet!” Belzer cried again. He slapped me a high five. “Our own widescreen TV!” We touched knuckles. Then we did the secret Rotten House Handshake.

“But, Bernie,” Feenman said. He pulled me to the back of the crate. “If it's a TV, what's up with the air holes in the box?”

“Huh? Air holes?”

I stared at the round holes cut into the crate. And then all four of us heard a scratching sound. Something scratching the inside of the crate.

“It's ALIVE!” Crench screamed. “The TV is ALIVE!”

We heard more scratching sounds, and then a loud
squaaaawk
. Something was definitely alive in there. We had to get that box open—fast!

Belzer found tools in the basement. They went to work, prying open the lid. Feenman and Crench used crowbars. Belzer used a claw hammer. I did the most important job: I cheered them on. “Let's go, dudes! Good job! Good job!”

It meant a lot to them.

A few minutes later, the lid popped up, and the front of the box fell to the floor with a crash. My
mouth dropped open as I stared in disbelief at two animals.

A dog and a parrot.

MY dog and MY parrot!

“My pets!” I cried. I dove forward and dropped to the floor of the crate to hug my fat, sloppy bulldog.

Lippy, my beautiful green parrot, squawked.

“Go bite a WALNUT!”

Isn't he sweet? Who taught him to say that? Was it me?

“Go bite a WALNUT!”

Ha-ha. He cracks me up.

I hugged my dog. “Good to see you, fella!”

He snorted hello and drooled drippy stuff all over the front of my school blazer.

Belzer stuck his head into the crate. “But, Bernie, where's the TV?”

“There's no TV. It's my pets from home!” I cried. “I guess they missed me so much, Mom and Dad mailed them to school.”

I felt so happy. I'd really missed my pets. And now here they were. Awesome!

I jumped up and smoothed Lippy's feathers. “Are you a good boy, Lippy?” I whispered to the parrot. “Are you a pretty boy?”

“
Eat birdseed and CHOKE
!” Lippy squawked.

Isn't he
cute
?

Feenman and Crench dropped down on their knees and started to pet my big bulldog. We heard a loud

The dog let out a moan. They suddenly stopped petting him.

Feenman made a horrified face. “Ooh, what STINKS?” he gasped.

“The dog!” Crench cried. “Bernie—your dog—he STINKS! Oh, it's bad. It's BAD!”

“Hold your breath,” I said. “It'll go away in a minute or two.”

“I
am
holding my breath!” Belzer cried. “It doesn't help!” The poor guy had tears running down his cheeks. He staggered away, choking, his fingers pressed to his nose.

“Oh, man, that's BAD!” Feenman groaned.

Crench dove for the window, pulled it open, and stuck his head outside.

“Bernie, what's your dog's name?” Feenman asked.

“Gassy,” I said.

Feenman nodded. “Good name.”