by R. L. Stine
Rotten School
Lose, Team, Lose!
R.L. Stine
Illustrations by Trip Park
For Lawson
–TP
Contents
Map
Morning Announcements
1. Rotten Apples Roll!
2. Throw Up #6
3. Snack Time for the Quarterback
4. Sherman Laughs and Laughs
5. A New Cheer for April-May
6. Honey Bucket Has an Idea
7. Advice from Coach Bunz
8. A Great Pep Talk
9. The Secret Weapon
10. Attack of the Ecch
11. Big News from April-May
12. What Rhymes with Ecch?
13. Sherman’s Evil Plot
14. Am I Doomed or Am I Doomed?
15. How to Beat Maniacs
16. Sherman Feels Sorry
17. Huge Boys
18. The New All-Stars
19. The Ecch Problem
20. Doomed
21. The Knitting Needles Fly
About the Author
Other Books by Rotten School Series
Copyright
About the Publisher
Map
MORNING ANNOUNCEMENTS
Good morning, Rotten Students. This is Headmaster Upchuck. Let’s make this day a Rotten Day for everyone!
Here are your Morning Announcements. Try to listen, if you can….
Nyce House fourth grader Wes Updood had his appendix removed last Saturday. He will be showing off his icky red scars during dinner tonight in the Dining Hall.
A reminder from our wonderful Dining Hall cook, Chef Baloney: “Spinach is a vegetable—not a throwing thing.”
Nurse Hanley has important advice for all fifth graders: “If you keep picking at it, it won’t heal.”
Fifth grader Eric Spindlebag has won another essay contest. The topic of the contest was: WHAT OUR PLANET NEEDS TO SURVIVE. And Eric’s essay won first prize in the nation. It was titled, “Please Go Away and Leave Me Alone.”
Mrs. Twinkler, our Drama Coach, announces the school play will be a stage version of Finding Nemo. Students who would like to be in the play are urged to try out. Mrs. Twinkler is looking for kids who have fish faces. And you must know how to swim.
Our Fighting Apples football team will be playing the Backstabbers from SpongeBob SquarePants All-Faith Academy this afternoon on the R.U. Dumm Football Field. Coach Manley Bunz asks: “Will someone please come watch the game?”
As you know, our team has a 1,500-game losing streak. So let’s all get out there and show them what we think of them!
Chapter 1
ROTTEN APPLES ROLL!
I call this story, “The Attack of the Ecch.”
I can’t tell you why right now. I’m in the middle of football practice.
What position do I play? Hey—do you really have to ask?
The quarterback has to be brilliant, quick, and good-looking, right? So they had no choice. It had to be me—Bernie Bridges.
I’ll never forget the moment that Coach Manley Bunz handed me the football and told me I’d be leader of the team. He slapped me on the back and gave me his wonderful words of wisdom.
“Try not to get hurt,” he said.
Thrilling words from a great coach.
I went running onto the practice field with that advice echoing in my ears. Coach Bunz shouted after me: “Don’t break anything. It’s the nurse’s day off!”
This man knows how to motivate a team!
It takes a BIG man to coach a tough team of fourth and fifth graders. And Coach Bunz is a BIG man. He ran a race in the Teachers’ Olympics last spring. And his stomach finished ten seconds before he did!
That’s BIG—right?
Sometimes he gets the whole team in a huddle and he gives us a real pep talk. “You boys represent the Rotten School!” he shouts. “So I want you to get out on that field and show everyone what rotten means!”
The coach doesn’t just fire us up. He also teaches us. “Don’t do that!” he shouts. “Oh, please—don’t do that!”
And that’s how we learn.
“Go, Rotten Apples! Rotten Apples ROLL!”
That’s the Official Team Cheer. Actually, we’re known as the Fighting Apples.
But that’s a problem. I mean, it’s not a real tough football name. If you play football, you want your team to be named after a fierce animal, a killer bird, or a wild creature. You don’t really want your team to be named after a FRUIT.
Well, okay. Bernie Bridges is man enough to face the truth. The Fighting Apples is not the best team in the Boarding School League. We lose all our games, we bleed a lot, and it usually isn’t even close.
But we’ve got one thing going for us.
We have a great quarterback.
I thought I could turn these losers into a winning team. But I was wrong.
We didn’t start winning until THE ATTACK OF THE ECCH.
Chapter 2
THROW UP #6
My story starts one week ago. It was a bright afternoon. The sun reflected off the grass of R.U. Dumm Football Field.
I got my guys into the huddle. The score was close. We were only losing 37 to 3.
Hey, that’s a close game for us. And look who we were playing: one of the meanest, ugliest teams in the whole state—the Hammerhead Sharks from Lindsay Lohan Day School.
I had all my Rotten House buddies on the team. My best friends, Feenman and Crench, were the wide receivers. So far, they’d dropped twenty perfect passes.
I turned to them in the huddle. “Listen to your quarterback,” I said. “You gotta start catching the ball. I know how to solve this problem.”
“How, Bernie?” Crench asked.
“Turn your helmets around,” I said.
They had their helmets on backwards. I helped them spin the helmets around.
“Hey, I can see!” Feenman cried.
“Wow! The sun is out!” Crench said, blinking. “I thought this was a night game!”
“You’re a football genius, Big B!” Feenman cried.
“Save it for when you carry me out on your shoulders after the game,” I said.
So far, we’ve lost every game. But they still insist on carrying me out on their shoulders. See? That’s team spirit!
“Listen up. Feenman, do you know which side of the ball to catch?” I asked.
He thought. “That’s a tough one, Bernie. Which side?”
“You catch the outside!” I said.
They all stared at me. “Dudes—that’s a joke,” I said.
A good quarterback knows how to keep his guys loose.
I turned to my friend Beast. Beast is our big, blocking lineman. He is huge and wide and hairy all over. Even his forehead is covered with bristly hair!
We’re pretty sure Beast is human. But he grunts a lot and eats raw meat, and sometimes he chases cars.
“Beast, you gotta block for me,” I said.
“Unnh-unnnh,” he replied.
“Keep them all away from me,” I told him. “Give me lots of time. Here’s the play, guys. It’s Throw Up Number Six.”
“Throw Up Number Six?” Crench squinted at me. “Huh? What’s that?”
“Simple,” I said. “I throw the ball up to Number Six. That’s you, Feenman.”
“I thought that play is called Vomit Number Three,” Crench said.
I shook my head. “No. That play is when I get sick on the sidelines.”
I gave Crench a slap on the helmet. “Listen up.”
“But, Bernie, why don’t we try Hurl Number Four?” he asked. “You hurl the ball to me!”
“We’ll try Hurl Number Four later,” I said. “Now we’re doing Throw Up Number Si
x. I take three steps back, count to five, and throw a long touchdown pass to Feenman.”
I grabbed Beast’s shoulder pad. “Can you block those guys?”
“GRRRRRR,” he replied. He pulled back his lips and bared his teeth. They were all pointy.
I clapped my hands. “Okay, Beast is ready!” I shouted. “Are you ready, Apples? Let’s go get ’em….”
Chapter 3
SNACK TIME FOR THE QUARTERBACK
Clapping my hands, I led the Fighting Apples up to the line.
The Hammerhead Sharks were waiting for us. Their helmets and uniforms were silvery gray, like sharks. They lowered themselves in place and prepared to attack.
“Hey, guys—nice uniforms!” I called out to them. “We’ve got trash cans that color! Ha-ha!”
They didn’t move a muscle.
I could hear some of them gnashing their teeth, like sharks.
I started to feel a little tense.
These Sharks were BIG, and they all looked hungry.
“Hey, guys, do me a favor,” I said. “Don’t tackle too hard. I’m a bleeder!”
That didn’t get a chuckle, either.
“It’s a running play,” I told them. “Right up the middle.”
See? When you’re a quarterback, you’ve got to use strategy. You’ve got to be tricky.
I turned to the sidelines.
Coach Bunz was leaning forward with his hands on his knees, waiting for the play. James Jimmy James, the Yearbook photographer, stood next to him with his camera raised.
“Hey, Jimbo!” I shouted. “Move over. Get my good side. This isn’t my good side. Take it from over there!”
Uh-oh. Everyone was tense. Waiting. Time to start the play.
I suddenly had doubts. Throw Up #6? Maybe that was the wrong play. Maybe we should try Upchuck #4, where I chuck the ball up to the closest runner. No time to change it. Here goes. “HIKE!” I yelled. I took the ball. I backed up three steps. I raised my arm and started to count…. “One…two…”
I saw Feenman run downfield.
He was open. He turned, ready to catch the ball. Yes! Yes!
“Three…four…”
Then I saw the dog run onto the field. A big, black Lab with a meat bone in its jaws.
I heard a growl. And I saw Beast drop to all fours and take off. Beast went chasing after the dog!
“Beast! You have to block!” I screamed.
Beast was growling too loud to hear me.
About twenty or thirty Sharks piled on me at once.
“Ooof!” I felt my breath knocked out in a whoosh. I went down hard, smothered under the pile of Sharks.
“Throw it! Bernie—heave it!” I heard Feenman shout.
But how could I throw when it was snack time for me? I was eating the ball!
Chapter 4
SHERMAN LAUGHS AND LAUGHS
Flat on my back, I waited for the Hammerhead Sharks to climb off. Then I stood up and the next thing I saw was Coach Bunz holding a pair of tongs. He worked very carefully with the tongs to pull the football from my throat.
“Cough it up,” he said. “It’s the only ball we have.”
He lifted the ball out. Then he used a towel to wipe off the slobber—and the game continued.
We lost 55 to 3. My teammates carried me off the field on their shoulders.
A short while later, I trudged across the Rotten School campus, head down. I was on my way to Rotten House, my dorm. Every bone in my body ached.
I’ve got to do something to help the team, I thought. Or else there’s no way we’ll survive the football season!
A shadow fell over me. I looked up to see Sherman Oaks—that spoiled rich kid who rules the dorm we all hate: Nyce House. Sherman Oaks—my archenemy.
Sherman’s blond hair was slicked back. He had a gleaming grin on his tanned face. “Bernie, you missed a tremendous victory,” he said. “My soccer team won. And, of course, I was the hero.”
Sherman is captain of the soccer team. He plays with his Nyce House buddies, Wes Updood and Joe Sweety.
He grinned his sick, sixty-five-tooth grin at me. “We slaughtered them, one to nothing,” he said. “It wasn’t even close!”
“Unnnh-huh,” I muttered, too tired to talk.
“Want to be jealous? Check out my new soccer shoes,” Sherman said. He stuck his foot in my face. “Feel the leather, Bernie. That’s albino pigeon skin. Soft, huh?”
“Grunnnnh,” I said.
Sherman pulled a square object from his backpack. He popped it open, and I saw a small video screen.
“This is my new portable DVD recorder and player,” he said. “My parents sent it to record all my soccer games, because they’re too rich to come watch them in person.”
He pushed a few buttons. The soccer game flashed onto the little screen. “Here I am, kicking the winning goal,” Sherman said. “I do that every game. That’s why we never lose.”
Squinting at the screen, I watched Sherman kick the winning goal. Then I watched April-May June and the other cheerleaders run out onto the field. They all hugged Sherman and jumped up and down, and hugged Sherman some more.
I sighed. It is no secret that I have a major crush on April-May. I didn’t like watching her hug Sherman Oaks.
Sherman saw that I wasn’t enjoying it. So he hit rewind and showed it to me again.
“By the way, Bernie,” he said, “did your team win?”
He burst out laughing. He slapped his knees and tossed back his blond head and laughed and laughed. Then he raised the DVD recorder and recorded himself laughing and laughing.
I guess he already knew the answer.
I turned and slumped away, shaking my head.
What’s up with this? Sherman Oaks a winner? And Bernie Bridges a loser?
Something was wrong with this picture.
I had to wipe that grin off Sherman’s face. I had to turn the Fighting Apples into winners.
But—how?
Of course I had no idea that The Attack of the Ecch was just days away.
Chapter 5
A NEW CHEER FOR APRIL-MAY
Later that afternoon, I had a study date with my buddies Feenman and Crench. We planned to study some new video games in the Student Center.
I was passing the girls’ dorm when April-May June came running out. Her blond hair was tied back in a ponytail. Her blue eyes were the color of the afternoon sky.
She was still wearing her cheerleader outfit: a short-sleeved top and a pleated skirt in our school colors—green, yellow, and purple.
I flashed her my best smile, the one with the adorable dimples in both cheeks. “April-May, I heard you were looking for me,” I said.
She squinted those beautiful eyes at me. “Huh? Excuse me?”
“I heard you wanted me to take you to the Sports Awards Dinner. Now, don’t be shy. The answer is yes.”
She squinted harder. “Were you tackled on your head?”
I chucked her under the chin. “That’s totally sweet,” I said. “You’re always so shy when I’m around. Shall I pick you up at your dorm an hour before the Awards Dinner?”
“Like you’re joking, right?”
I could tell she was nuts about me. What girl can resist the Bernie B. charm when I really turn it on?
“Maybe we could meet after dinner tonight,” I said. “I could teach you some hot, new cheers. Do you know the one that goes: ‘Give me a B, give me an E, give me an R, give me an N…’?”
She rolled her eyes. “Bernie, do you know the cheer that goes: ‘Give me an N, give me an O’?”
“Never heard that one,” I said.
My friend Belzer appeared. He handed me a bottle of water. “I know you’re thirsty after a big game,” he said. “I have six more bottles in my backpack. Are your muscles aching, Bernie? Want me to carry you to the dorm?”
It took a long time to train Belzer. But it was worth it.
“Belzer, not now,” I said. “I can’t leave April-May. She needs my
help with the cheerleader squad.”
April-May made a rude spitting noise.
Belzer started to leave. “I’ll hang out nearby,” he said, “in case you need me to carry you somewhere.”
See? He’s very well trained.
“April-May,” I said, “why don’t the cheerleaders come cheer for the football team?”
She stared at me. “Because you’re losers?”
“But why only cheer for Sherman and his soccer team?” I asked.
“Because they’re winners,” she said. “We can’t cheer for losers, Bernie. It gets us depressed.”
She started to walk away. I tugged her back by her ponytail.
“But what if we win next week?” I said. “Will you come cheer for my football team?”
She sneered. “Who are you playing next week?” she asked.
“The Ben Franklin Prep School Cannibals.”
“Maybe I’ll come cheer for you in the hospital,” April-May said.
“We could talk about it at dinner tonight,” I said.
She flipped her ponytail behind her shoulder. “Sorry, Bernie. I can’t have dinner with a loser. How would it look?”
“You’re right,” I said. “I understand.”
I gave her a weak wave. Then I turned and trudged away. The Great Lawn sparkled under the setting sun. But my world was dark. Very dark.
Belzer was waiting under a tree. He held up a towel. “Ready for me to wipe the sweat off your face?”
