by Nancy Krulik
“Good idea.” Mike slid into the booth on Louie’s right.
George looked over at their table and laughed. Louie looked like the baloney in the middle of a Max-and-Mike sandwich.
Sage sat down across the table and smiled brightly. “Now I can look at both my special guys at the same time,” she told Max and Mike.
Max and Mike both groaned.
George started laughing. “This is awesome,” he said. “I can’t believe Chris is missing it.”
Just then, Mr. Tarantella walked over to Alex and George’s table.
“Hi, Alex,” the pizzeria owner said with a big grin. “What will you have?”
“I’d like a pepperoni slice and an orange soda,” Alex told him.
“Sure thing.” Mr. Tarantella turned to George and frowned. “What do you want?”
“I’d like a slice with pepperoni. Please,” George added, trying to be extra polite.
Mr. Tarantella wrote down the order and nodded. Then he walked away.
“Ever since the burp made me go all wacko here, Mr. Tarantella has hated me,” George whispered to Alex. “Half the shop owners in town hate me.”
Alex was the only person George could talk to about the burp. George hadn’t told him about his terrible secret. Alex was just so smart, he had figured it out. And not only had he promised to keep it a secret, he’d promised to try to help George find a cure!
“That burp is trouble,” Alex agreed. “But I think I might have actually found a cure.”
George wanted to believe him. But he’d tried lots of Alex’s burping cures—everything from drinking an onion milkshake to pouring gallons of ice-cold water down his throat—and he was still burping.
“I don’t have to drink spicy mustard, do I?” George asked. “Because that nearly burned my tonsils out.”
Alex shook his head. “You just have to let me hold your hand.”
George gave him a strange look. “I have to what?”
“It’s called acupressure,” Alex explained. “If you put pressure on a certain part of your hand, it gets rid of the gas in your stomach. And since gas causes burps—”
“But the burp starts in my stomach and comes out my mouth,” George interrupted. “My hand has nothing to do with it.”
“I know,” Alex agreed. “But there’s something called chi energy that floats through your whole body. If your chi gets blocked somewhere, you can start to feel lousy. Or in your case, gassy.”
“And this acupressure thing will unblock my chi?” George asked.
Alex nodded. “Yup. And once your chi is free, the bubbles will just disappear.”
George gave him a funny look. “This sounds really weird.”
“Acupressure has been around for centuries,” Alex assured him.
“I guess it’s worth a try,” George said with a shrug.
Alex began pressing George’s hand. “I’ll start here between your thumb and your pointer finger—” Alex began.
“I call losers!” Louie’s voice rang out from across the pizzeria. “And by losers, I mean George!”
Quickly, George yanked his hand away. “What are you talking about?” he asked Louie nervously.
“I want to thumb-wrestle you next,” Louie replied.
“We’re not thumb-wrestling,” Alex began. “We’re . . . ouch!” Alex stopped talking as George kicked him under the table. “Why did you do that?” he asked.
George shook his head. He didn’t want Alex blurting out anything about the burp or how they were looking for a cure.
Alex got the message. So he grabbed George’s hand again and pretended to thumb-wrestle. Quickly, he pushed George’s thumb down into his palm.
“It’s your turn, Louie,” Alex said.
Louie stood up and cracked his knuckles, loudly.
“Maybe we should bet on it,” he said. “Loser buys the winner’s slice.”
George had done a lot of shoveling for his money. He wasn’t sure he wanted to chance losing any of it to Louie. Still, if he didn’t take the bet, it would seem like he was chicken. And he couldn’t let Louie think that.
“It’s a bet,” he said finally.
“Good.” Louie smiled. “I like my pizza with extra anchovies.”
George looked at Louie’s thumb. The nail was all chewed, and there were little scaly red patches around the nail where Louie had bitten off the skin. Yuck!
“What are you waiting for?” Louie asked him.
“Nothing,” George said. By now Max, Mike, and Sage had gathered around the booth. Alex was staring, too. There was no getting out of it. He grabbed Louie’s hand.
“One, two, three, four,” Alex said loudly. “I declare a thumb war!”
George pushed hard, trying to get Louie’s thumb to go down.
Louie pushed hard, trying to get George’s thumb to go down.
Then . . . uh-oh! George felt something awful—even worse than Louie’s chewed-up thumb. The magical super burp was back—and it wanted in on the action.
George couldn’t let the burp out. Not here. Not now. If the burp caused any more trouble, Mr. Tarantella would surely ban George from the Pizza Palace for life.
George knew he should get out of there as fast as he could. But that would mean forfeiting to Louie.
There was only one thing to do. George was going to have to squelch that belch—without letting go of Louie’s thumb! But how?
George was going to have to spin those bubbles back down to his toes, like water swirling down a drain. It had worked before! Hopefully it would work now.
George leaped to his feet, pulling Louie with him.
“Hey!” Louie shouted as he got yanked up. “No fair.”
George started turning around and around in a circle.
So Louie started turning around and around in a circle. “Go, Louie, go!” Max cheered.
“Louie, Louie, he’s our man,” Mike shouted. “If he can’t beat him, no one can!”
George barely heard Max and Mike cheering. He was too busy spinning around.
Spin, spin, spin. Then suddenly . . . the bubbles started to sink back down toward George’s toes! It was working!
So George kept spinning. Around and around he went.
So around and around Louie went.
The bubbles knocked at George’s knees and clipped at his calves.
George kept turning.
So Louie kept turning.
The bubbles tickled George’s toes and . . .
Pop! George felt something burst in his belly. All the air rushed out of him. The magical super burp was gone
Quickly, George plopped down in his seat.
So Louie plopped down in his seat.
George pushed at Louie’s thumb.
Louie pushed at George’s thumb.
And then . . .
SLAM! George forced Louie’s thumb all the way down!
“George is the winner!” Alex shouted excitedly.
George smiled. Alex sure had that one wrong. George wasn’t just a winner. He was a DOUBLE winner. Not only had he beaten Louie, he’d also squelched the belch.
“No way did George win,” Louie said. “You’re not allowed to stand up and spin around when you thumb-wrestle.”
“Then why did you stand up and spin around?” Alex asked him.
“Because I wasn’t gonna let go and . . .” Louie put his head in his hands. “I feel dizzy,” he said.
George smiled. “And I feel hungry,” he said. Just then, Mr. Tarantella brought over their slices.
George smiled up at the pizza-shop owner. “Thanks,” he said happily. “Put mine on Louie’s tab. He’s paying today.”
“I’m telling you, Chris, it was amazing,” George said as the boys sat down for lunch in the school cafeteria. “Louie was so
mad that I beat him.”
“It was pretty unbelievable,” Alex said. “I’ve never seen a thumb-wrestling match like that one ever—until yesterday.”
“I still haven’t seen one like that,” Chris said sadly. “Because I wasn’t there.”
“Maybe next time,” Alex told him.
“Oh no,” George insisted. “There’s not going to be a next time. I’m never touching Louie’s disgusting chewed-up thumb again.”
Just then, Julianna sat down at the table. She smiled at Chris. “Thanks for the Evite to the local artists’ comic book party,” she told him. “I can’t wait to come.”
“Oh yeah, the party,” George said to Chris. “I got my Evite last night, too. I almost forgot about your comic being published next week. I’ll be there, too.”
Chris frowned. “You almost forgot about the most important thing in my whole life?” he asked George.
George shrugged. “I guess I was just so excited about this thumb-wrestling match and all.”
Chris didn’t say anything. He pulled out his sketchpad and colored pencils and began to draw.
“It’s really cool that Rodney is throwing that party,” Alex said. “He must think this Toiletman comic book is going to be amazing. You can count me in for sure.”
“Well, it’s not just a party for me,” Chris said without looking up from his drawing. “There are three other local artists who will have comic books being sold at the store at the same time. But it is really cool that he’s throwing us a party.”
Just then, Max and Mike came running into the cafeteria.
“Why are they in such a hurry?” Julianna asked. “Tuna hoagies aren’t that great.”
A moment later, Sage came racing through the cafeteria doors. “Wait for me, Mikey,” she called out. “You too, Maxie.”
George laughed. “That’s why,” he said.
“Sage is really obsessed with those guys,” Alex said with a laugh. “I can’t believe she really thinks a piece of paper can predict the future.”
“I wish I could predict my future,” Chris said. “I wonder if my comic book will do well. I really hope so.”
“How many people did you invite to the party?” Julianna asked him.
“A lot,” Chris said. “The whole fourth grade. And my family. And a couple of kids from my art class. You guys can all bring extra people if you want, too. The more people, the better.”
“If everyone you invited buys one of your comic books, it will be a best seller,” George said. “You’ll be rich.”
Louie plopped his tray down on the table across the table from George and snickered.
“Rich? From a comic book?” Louie said. He shook his head. “You guys crack me up.”
“It’s not about making money,” Chris explained. “I just really want everyone to like what I’ve been working so hard on.”
“You’re an idiot,” Louie told him. “Everything is about making money. Or at least it should be.”
“My sister says we should each buy a copy,” Julianna said. “She thinks they could be collector’s items. Will you autograph them for us?” she asked Chris.
Chris nodded. “Sure, if you want me to,” he said.
“You want his autograph?” Louie asked, shaking his head. “Why?”
“He might be a famous comic-book artist one day,” Julianna explained.
“What about me?” Louie said. “I’m a star already.”
“What are you talking about?” George asked him.
“I have my own webcast—Life with Louie,” Louie insisted. “And I’m a Farley. My autograph will be worth way more than Chris’s someday.”
George shook his head. There wasn’t a kid in the whole grade who would want Louie Farley’s autograph. Well, except Max and Mike.
“I can’t believe you guys are wasting all this time talking about those comic books,” Louie said.
“What would you rather talk about, Louie?” George asked. “How about how you lost a thumb-wrestling match yesterday? Because I’m still kind of full from that slice of pizza you bought me afterward.”
Louie’s eyes got small and angry.
“I just don’t see what the big deal is,” Louie told Chris. “It’s not like you’re the only kid in school who can draw. Didn’t you guys see my self-portrait hanging in the hall outside the art room last week?”
George laughed. He’d seen it, all right. Louie’s nose looked like a warty pickle in his drawing.
“Making a comic book isn’t just about drawing,” Chris said. “It’s about writing, too. A comic book has to tell a story. It has to have good characters. And it—”
Suddenly, Louie reached across the table and yanked the sketchpad from Chris’s hands.
“How about a sneak peek at this great story?” he demanded.
“Give that back,” Chris said. “It’s not finished. It’s just a rough sketch.”
But Louie didn’t hand the sketchpad back. Instead, he looked down at the page Chris had been working on.
“Oh wow,” Louie said. A giant smile flashed across his face. “This is awesome.”
“Way to go, Chris,” George said. “You just got a compliment from Louie. He never compliments anyone.”
“You definitely drew these two jerks perfectly,” Louie continued. He pointed to George and Alex.
“What?” Alex asked.
“We’re in the comic book?” George added. “Wow!”
Chris shrugged. “It’s not a final draft. I was just playing around with an idea.”
“Let me see!” George exclaimed, leaping up from his seat to look over Louie’s shoulder. “This is so cool. I’ve never been . . . Hey, wait a minute.”
“I told you, it’s a rough draft,” Chris explained. “In the ending, I’m gonna—”
“GASSY GEORGE?” George shouted, cutting Chris off mid-sentence. “You called me GASSY GEORGE?”
“Look at the size of that rear end,” Louie pointed out as he looked at Chris’s artwork. He read the caption under the picture. “Gassy George’s giant butt propels him through space at the speed of gas.”
George turned beet red. He stared at Chris.
Alex laughed. “That is kind of funny, George,” he said.
“Oh yeah?” George asked him. “Well, come take a look at the evil Dr. Alex. He’s nothing but a giant head and some feet. And he has your hair.”
“A giant head to hold his humungous evil brain,” Louie read out loud.
“Evil?” Alex asked Chris. “You think I’m evil?”
“No,” Chris said. “It’s not really you. It’s a character. And—”
“But his name is Alex, right?” Alex demanded.
“Well, yeah,” Chris said. “But it’s not done yet. And—”
“Hey, at least you’re smart,” George told Alex. “I’m just gassy.”
Julianna started laughing.
George shot her a look.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “It was funny. I couldn’t help it.”
George shook his head. It was bad enough when Louie laughed at him. But now Chris had his other friends laughing at him, too.
George looked over at Alex. “Are you finished eating?” he asked him.
“Yeah.” Alex glanced at Chris. “I just lost my appetite.”
“Great,” George said. “How about we go build a snowman in the yard this recess—just the two of us.”
Chris grabbed his sketchpad back from Louie. He looked at George and Alex. “You guys, it’s just a rough draft,” he insisted. “I haven’t actually finished anything yet, and . . .”
George didn’t hear the rest of what Chris was saying. He was already halfway across the cafeteria.
But George could hear Louie. That creep could be plenty loud when he wanted to be.
“Hey, George!” Louie shouted. “Better turn sideways going outside. It’s the only way your ginormous gassy butt will ever fit through the door.”
Everyone in the cafeteria stared in George’s direction. The kids all started to laugh, although they had no idea what Louie was talking about. Even the cafeteria lady was chuckling.
George was really mad. His friendship with Chris had just gone right down the drain. And it would take a lot more than a superhero with a plunger to save it.
“I can’t believe that jerk Chris thinks I’m evil,” Alex said as he and George walked home after school that afternoon.
“I can’t believe we’re calling Chris a jerk,” George said. “He was the first friend I made when I moved here. I never thought he could do something like this.”
“I know what you mean,” Alex agreed. “Chris was always a really nice guy.”
“Was he?” George asked.
“What do you mean?” Alex asked him.
“Maybe it was all an act,” George said slowly. “Maybe Chris was hiding his true identity—kind of like a comic book superhero who seems like a regular guy until he puts his cape on.”
“You don’t really believe Chris has been putting on an act all this time, do you?” Alex asked.
“I don’t know what to believe,” George said. “I’m just glad he thinks I only have a problem with regular gas. Can you imagine if he knew about the magical super burp? He’d put that in his comic book for sure. Then everyone would know.”
“It’s definitely a good thing we kept it a secret,” Alex said.
“Yeah,” George agreed. “We’re sort of like a club. The Secret Keepers Club.”
Alex smiled. “Exactly,” he said. He held up his hand. “I swear that I will never tell your secrets. And I will never be a jerk.”
George raised his hand in the air. “Same here,” he said. Then he got real quiet.
Alex wasn’t saying much, either. George figured Alex was feeling the same way he was. They were both really, really mad at Chris. But it still seemed kind of strange walking home without him.
