The Great Smelling Bee (3 page)

Feenman and Crench both hung their heads out the window, breathing fresh air. The smell faded away in a couple of minutes. I told them it would.

I hoisted Gassy up and carried the big sweetie to my bed. He pushed his snout under my pillow and fell asleep with a sigh.

Lippy stood on his metal perch, clucking softly to himself. I lifted the perch from the box and set it up in the corner by the bed.

I felt so happy to have my pets with me. I didn't stop to think about the trouble I was in.

“Hey, look—” Crench cried. He pointed to the floor of the crate. “Big B, there's a note from your parents in the box.”

He reached down and pulled up a sheet of paper. “Hey, what's this green gloppy stuff all over it?” Crench switched the paper to his left hand. His right hand was covered in green-and-yellow goop.

Feenman laughed. “It's bird doo!”

“Huh?” Crench smelled his hand. “Whoa.” He looked from hand to hand. They were both covered in the thick, sticky glop.

Feenman tossed back his head and let out a long hee-haw. “Bird plop alert!” he shouted.

Crench moved fast. “Shake hands,” he said. He grabbed Feenman's hand and shook it.

“Yuccck.” Feenman made a sick face. Now he had bird plop oozing over his hand.

Crench wiped both of his hands on Feenman's jacket sleeve. “All clean,” he said, holding up his hands.

“You jerk!” Feenman cried. He wiped his hand across Crench's cheek. Now Crench had bird doo smeared all over his face.

He raised the gloppy letter, pushed it into Feenman's face, and wiped it around. Feenman angrily grabbed the letter, and it ripped into two pieces. He stuffed the gloppy pieces into Crench's mouth.

What did I tell you? These are fun-loving dudes!

“Uh…guys,” I said. “Guys, what does the letter say?”

They turned to me. They were both covered in bird plop. Green-and-yellow goop on their faces, their hands, their school uniforms. Crench was wiping it off his lips.

“I'll try to read it,” Feenman said. He pulled the gloppy letter from Crench's mouth. He put the two pieces together. “Uh…it says your parents have to go away for a long time, and they couldn't find anyone to take care of your pets. If you don't take Gassy, he'll have to go to the pound. And the parrot will have to go to a zoo.”

“No way!” I cried. “I'll take care of them. They're my sweeties!”

“But, Bernie, you can't,” Crench said, spitting bird doo off his lips. “You'll be in major trouble.”

I stared at him. “Huh? Me?”

He wiped green glop from his hair. “Yeah. You know the school rule: No Pets Allowed.”

Oh, wow. No Pets Allowed.

A chill ran down my back. Crench was right. No Pets Allowed.

“If Mrs. Heinie catches you…,” Crench said. He made a slicing motion across his neck. “You're dead meat.”

Crench was right again. If Mrs. Heinie found out I was hiding my animals in my room—and told Headmaster Upchuck—it would be “Bye-bye, Bernie.”

I'm in major trouble,
I thought.
Unless I can find a way to hide Lippy and Gassy, I'll be on the next bus home.

I sat down on my bed beside my snoring bulldog and started to think. I had to protect my pets. But how could I hide them? How?

Feenman and Crench dragged the crate from my room. Then they headed for the showers.

And exactly two seconds later, I heard the click of Mrs. Heinie's shoes in the hall. She was heading for my room!

“Quiet, Lippy,” I whispered. “Don't make a sound!”

“Go bite a WALNUT!
” Lippy squawked.

Mrs. Heinie stepped in and squinted at me through her thick glasses. “Bernie, who were you talking to?” she asked.

“Uh…who was I talking to? Myself,” I said. “I'm giving myself a pep talk. You know. To be a better student.” I stood up and shook her hand. “You've inspired me, Mrs. Heinie. You've inspired me to work harder. To be an even greater person than I am.”

She gave me a weak smile. “That's very nice, Bernie.”

“BEAK me!”
Lippy squawked.
“BEAK me!”

Mrs. Heinie squinted at me again. “What did you say?”

“Just clearing my throat,” I said.

She gazed past me to the bird stand, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh, my! Is that a parrot? A parrot in the dorm?”

I turned. “You mean that new throw pillow? Isn't that nice? My mom sent that pillow to me from home. It
does
look a little like a bird, doesn't it!”

“Beak me! BEAK me!”
Lippy cried.

Mrs. Heinie's smile faded. She narrowed her eyes at me. “Bernie, you know the rules about pets, don't you? Is that a
dog
lying on your bed? Oh, my! Oh, my!”

“Dog? Where? You mean that bag of laundry?”

“Let me take a closer look,” Mrs. Heinie said. “Bernie, you know the rules. If you have pets in the dorm, I have to take you to Headmaster Upchuck. He will jump for joy. He'll be so happy! He'll have a reason to send you home.”

“You mean Headmaster Upchuck doesn't
like
me?” I asked innocently.

“He hates your guts,” she said. “Now let me take a close look at what you've got here.”

Uh-oh.
No way
I can let her take a closer look.

“Mrs. H., you have a smear on your glasses,” I said. “Let me clean them for you.” I took her glasses and very carefully smeared my thumbs all over the lenses. Then I handed them back to her. “There. That should be better,” I said.

She blinked several times.

“Birdseed for brains!”
Lippy squawked.

“I can't see a thing,” Mrs. Heinie said, blinking behind the smeared eyeglasses.

“You look awesome today, Mrs. H.,” I said. “Did you do something new with your hair?”

“No, I didn't.”

“Beak me! BEAK me!”

Mrs. Heinie gazed blindly around. “Bernie, where is that bird?”

“Bird? I don't hear a bird,” I said. “I know you've changed your hair. You look ten years younger. Really.”

“Eat feathers and DIE!”

Mrs. Heinie pulled off the glasses. Then she put them back on. She stared right at Gassy. But her glasses were totally smeared.

I heard a loud

Mrs. Heinie started to say something. Her mouth opened wide. She let out a gasp. “That odor! It's
making me
sick
!” she cried. “Bernie—what is that
stink
?”

Gassy had performed his special trick once again.

Think fast, Bernie. Think fast, dude.

“Uh…it must be the blueberries from my pancakes,” I said, pointing to my breakfast tray. “I think they were a little too ripe.”

Mrs. Heinie had her fingers pinched over her nose. “It doesn't smell like blueberries to me,” she said. “Are you having stomach problems?”

She gazed at my breakfast tray. “Bernie, why are you eating breakfast in your room? Why aren't you in the dining hall?”

I pulled out a Kleenex. “I have the sniffles this morning,” I said. “I didn't want to infect everyone else.”

Mrs. Heinie gave me a warm smile. “That's very considerate of you.”

I lowered my head humbly. “I try to set a good example for others,” I said.

“
BEAK me!”
Lippy squawked.
“Eat birdseed and DIE!”

Whoa. That was a close one.

An ordinary kid would be packing his bags right now. But not Bernie B.

Did you see the master at work? When it comes to Mrs. Heinie's glasses, I've got Thumbs of Steel.

But I don't think Mrs. Heinie was fooled. She's a smart cookie. She said she'd be keeping a close eye on my room. I didn't like the sound of that.

But what could I do? I had to protect my pets. They're not pets to me. They're like my two brothers. Only featherier and smellier.

I needed a plan. I knew I could cover Lippy's perch. That always shuts him up for a little while. But how could I hide Gassy?

I was late for class. I hid both pets in the dorm Study Hall room. I knew they'd be safe. No one
ever
goes in there.

A few minutes later, my brain was whirring in high gear as I made my way downstairs.

I passed the Common Room. That's our living room. “Yo—Billy!” I said, and waved to my friend Billy the Brain. He was hunched over a table, reading a manga comic book.

Why do we call him the Brain? Because—duh—he's the fourth-grade class brain. The kid has a solid C-minus average. Best in the school!

How does he do it? He works hard for it. Hey, this brainiac studies almost
half an hour
every night.

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

It was a sunny day. The grass sparkled. The sky was cloudless and blue. My empty backpack bounced on my back. Belzer was carrying all of my books for me.

Up ahead, I saw Feenman and Crench walking to the School House. That's what we call our classroom building. I hurried to catch up to them. “You still have a little green stuff in your nose,” I told Crench.

He wiped it out with his finger. “What did you do with your pets, Bernie?”

“They're safe,” I said. “I hid them in a room that no one ever uses.”

“You mean the Study Hall?”

“Right,” I said. “Now let's get to business, dudes. Give me the report. How are the raffle tickets selling?”

Crench shook his head. “Not well.”

“They're not selling at all,” Feenman said.

My heart skipped a beat. “You mean you've only sold a hundred tickets? Two hundred?” I asked.

“We haven't sold any,” Feenman said. “Kids don't want to buy two-dollar raffle tickets from you.”

“Whoa.” My mouth dropped open. “But it's for such a good cause,” I said. “Aren't we tired of soggy pizza? Every dollar goes to buying a new pizza oven for the Dining Hall. Just think of it, dudes. In a few weeks, our pizza will be crisp! Crisp and flaky! Look at me—I'm drooling. I'm
drooling
already!”

Feenman shook his head. “Everyone thinks you're just going to keep the money, Bernie. Like the last two raffles.”

“That's crazy,” I said. “Mrs. Heinie asked me to hold this raffle. She put me in charge. I can't let her down, guys. We have to sell those tickets.”

Crench squinted at me. “
Mrs. Heinie
asked you to hold this raffle?”

“Yes,” I said. “Of course, she was talking in her sleep. But that counts. That counts!”

“But, Bernie,” Crench said, “kids want to know what the prize is. You can't have a raffle without a prize.”

“There's going to be an
awesome
prize,” I said. “I just haven't thought of it yet. Tell them it's a
secret
prize! The prize is so totally
outstanding
, I have to keep it a secret.”

My two buddies shrugged their shoulders. “They won't buy, Bernie,” Crench said. “Not even the second graders. Feenman and I think you should give up.”

“Give up?” I cried. I jumped in front of them. “Give up? Give up and eat gummy pizza for the rest
of the year? I'd rather starve!”

“But, Bernie—” Feenman started.

“Dudes—whoa. Hold on,” I said. “Did you sell any tickets to Sherman?”

Sherman Oaks is the spoiled, rich kid who lives in the dorm across from us, the dorm we all hate. It's called Nyce House.

“No. Sherman Oaks wouldn't buy any,” Feenman said. “Sherman said he
likes
soggy pizza. He said he pays extra for soggy crust.”

“He would,” I muttered. “Well, there he is now.” I pointed. “Now take a lesson, guys. Watch Bernie go to work. Hide behind that tree and watch how it's done.”

Feenman grabbed my arm. “He won't buy, Bernie. Sherman won't buy a raffle ticket if he doesn't know the prize.”

“Just watch,” I said. “I'll make Sherman
beg
me to sell him some raffle tickets! He'll
beg
!”

I rubbed my hands together, thinking about how I'd handle Sherman Oaks.

“Hey, Sherman!” I shouted. “Sherman! Wait up!”