by R. L. Stine
“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!”
Chapter 6
MY RAFFLE SURPRISE
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!”
Chapter 7
SHERMAN OAKS HAS A PET
Sherman turned and flashed me his perfect, gleaming smile. I gazed at the smooth, blond hair, his crisply starched school uniform, his deep tan, his sparkling blue eyes, the sneer on his thin lips.
He wore an ostrich-skin backpack with the price tag still on it—$300. He had a platinum iPod in his blazer pocket.
Still grinning at me, he pulled off the ear pieces. “Bernie,” he said, “I hear you’re hiding two pets in your dorm room.”
My pets arrived half an hour ago! How did he find out? How did my biggest enemy on earth find out my bigg
est secret?
I grabbed my head. I felt dizzy. My stomach rocked. And rolled. I was sick. SICK!
“Pets? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “What is up with all these false rumors about me?”
Sherman’s ugly grin grew wider. “In Nyce House, we like to follow the rules,” he said. “It keeps us out of trouble. Know what I mean?”
Was he threatening me? Was he threatening to tell Headmaster Upchuck about my pets?
Sherman stuck out his hand to shake hands. “I just want to say good-bye, Bernie. This might be the last time I see you. I mean, if I should accidentally tell Headmaster Upchuck about your pets…”
Uh-oh. He was threatening me!
“Why would I have pets?” I said. “I’m allergic to them. Just the word makes me itch. Look. Look. Don’t say that word! I’m itching all over.” I went into a scratching fit, scratching every part of my body.
“You need a pet like mine, Bernie,” Sherman said. He pointed to a hunk of shiny metal at his feet.
“I don’t believe this,” I said. “Now you’ve got your own personal trash can!”
“It’s a digital robot pet,” Sherman said. “It cost one thousand dollars. My parents sent it to me because they think they can buy my love with expensive, shiny toys.”
I stared at the thing. It was kinda shaped like a cat.
“Watch this,” Sherman said. He took out a thin remote controller and aimed it at the metal pet. “Say hello, Money. Say hello to Bernie.”
“Money?” I said. “You named your pet Money?”
“Yeah. Cute name, isn’t it?” Sherman pushed some buttons on the controller. “Say hello, Money.”
The little robot squeaked, “Mee-ow. Mee-ow.”
Sherman laughed. “Isn’t that totally fabulous? Now watch this.” He pushed more buttons.
The robot pet ran around the grass in a big circle. Then it rolled over. Then it jumped into the air a few times and wagged its metal tail.
Sherman laughed. He got down on his knees to pet the thing. “Good boy! Good, Money! Good!” He looked up at me. “See? This pet won’t get me in trouble.”
“Let me try it,” I said. I took the remote from him. I pushed a few buttons.
The metal cat grabbed Sherman’s face with its paws, latched on tight, and began to squeeze.
“Oww! Bernie! Stop it!” he screamed. “Stop it! Ow! It’s hurting me!”
I stared at the controller. “I’m just no good at these things,” I said. “How do you work it? I can’t ever figure these things out.”
“Stop it! Get it OFF me!” Sherman howled.
“It’s so confusing,” I said, shaking my head. “So many buttons. Do I push the blue ones or the red ones?”
“Owww! It’s squeezing my face! Make it stop!”
I pushed a yellow button. The robot cat coughed up a metal hairball into Sherman’s face.
“OW! OWWWW!
“It’s SQUEEZING my beautiful face!” he wailed.
Should I give the guy a break?
Chapter 8
MY LUCKY DAY
Hey, Bernie B. is a good guy. Of course I gave him a break.
A few minutes later, I made the tin cat open its paws. “So sorry, dude,” I said. “I just can’t ever work these things.”
Sherman staggered to his feet. His cheeks were bright purple. “Thanks, Bernie. That was a close one,” he said. He picked up the robot cat and shook it hard. “Bad boy! Bad boy!” he scolded. “No fresh batteries for you tonight.” Sherman turned to me. “He likes it when I change his batteries.”
“Glad I could rescue you,” I said. “This is my lucky day, after all.”
Sherman squinted his sky blue eyes at me. “Huh? Your lucky day?”
I nodded. “Yeah, dude. It’s my lucky day.” I pulled a bunch of raffle tickets from my pocket. “Check these out. Pizza oven raffle tickets. I bought the last ten tickets.”
Sherman stared at the tickets in my fist. “You bought the last ten tickets?”
“I have the last ten raffle tickets. And I wouldn’t sell them to anyone.”
I waved them slowly in front of his face.
Sherman’s mouth fell open, and he started to drool. “The last ten? You’re serious? And you rigged the raffle, didn’t you, Bernie? It’s fixed, right? You made sure you have the winning ticket.”
I grinned at him. “Would I do that? That would be cheating. You don’t think I’m a cheater, do you, Sherman?” I waved the tickets in front of his face some more.
“I’ll buy ’em off you, Bernie. How much? How much?”
“Not selling,” I said. “Why would I sell the last ten tickets?”
Drool ran down Sherman’s chin. His eyes bulged. He was breathing hard. “How much, Bernie? Come on. How about two bucks? I’ll give you two bucks each for them.”
He grabbed for the tickets. I swung them away from him.
“Oh, no,” I said. “You want them too badly, Sherman. You know I have a winner here—don’t you! You’re trying to cheat me. Play fair, Sherman. Play fair!”
“Okay,” he said. “Four dollars. Four dollars each. What do you say, Bernie? Four dollars.”
I pretended to think about it. I rubbed my chin and shut my eyes. “Okay,” I said finally. “It breaks my heart, but…four dollars each.”
“Thank you! Thank you!” Sherman cried. He handed me a wad of dollar bills, and I gave him the tickets. “Wow! The last ten tickets!” he said. “Thank you!” He picked up his robot cat and ran off to class.
I watched him go. Then I counted the money. Forty big ones.
I should have felt happy. The master had struck again!
But I was too worried to enjoy the money. Sherman knew about my pets. What if he squealed to Headmaster Upchuck?
I had to do something to hide them. And I had to act fast!
Chapter 9
SHERMAN SQUEALS
I caught up to Feenman and Crench. “Sherman was too easy. Too easy!” I said. I waved the wad of dollar bills in front of their noses.
Their tongues fell out of their mouths, and they started to pant.
“But, dudes, I’ve got a big problem,” I said. “Mrs. H. almost busted me. She almost saw Lippy and Gassy. And Sherman Oaks knows about them. I’m afraid he’ll tell Headmaster Upchuck.”
I wiped the sweat off my forehead with a dollar bill. “If we don’t find a better way to hide Gassy, I’ll be waving bye-bye to you guys on the next bus.”
“Bernie, that dog stinks!” Feenman said.
“Feenman, you don’t smell that good yourself,” I replied.
“I’ve got it! Maybe we could dress the dog up,” Crench said. “Disguise him. You know. Maybe make him look like a cat.”
“Like a cat?” I cried. “What good would that do? How would that help me with Mrs. Heinie?”
Crench scratched his chin. “Well…if she thinks the dog is a cat, it might confuse her.”
I patted Crench on the head. “How many times have I told you not to think before noon? It puts a terrible strain on your brain.”
“Sorry, Bernie.”
We passed under a clump of apple trees. Up ahead stood a tall, old, brick building. Long vines of poison ivy clung to its walls. This was the School House, where all the classes are held.
I slipped into class just as the bell rang. Mrs. Heinie sat at her desk, cleaning her glasses.
I slid into my desk between Feenman and Crench. Headmaster Upchuck’s voice came on the loudspeaker. The speaker squealed and whistled. It was hard to hear.
“I have two special announcements,” the Headmaster said. “First, one of our lunchroom ladies is missing a leg. If you are the one who took it, you know who you are. Please return it to the kitchen, and no questions will be asked.”
A lot of kids giggled at that one.
“Second,” Upchuck continued, “twelve students signed up for the Smelling Bee. I must repeat—it is NOT a Smelling Bee. These students are very, very mixed u
p.
“So far,” he said, “no one has signed up for the Spelling Bee. So we are going to make it a little easier. Only two-letter words will be used. I hope you will all enter the contest now. Thank you.”
Mrs. Heinie stood up at the front of the classroom. The light reflected off her glasses. “Today, I thought we’d have a little fun and talk about state capitals,” she said.
Everyone groaned.
Feenman had his head down on his desk. He was already sound asleep.
“Does anyone know the capital of South Dakota?” Mrs. Heinie asked.
No hands went up.
“South Dakota is a very important state,” Mrs. H. said. “Does anyone want to take a guess about the capital?”
Belzer raised his hand. “Is it France?”
Mrs. Heinie shook her head. “Come on, people. You know this. The capital of South Dakota?”
Belzer raised his hand again. “Is it North Dakota?”
“Are you trying to be funny?” Mrs. Heinie asked him.
Belzer squinted at her. “Funny?”
“I’m a little surprised at you all,” Mrs. Heinie said. “You were supposed to study your capitals last night. I—”
She suddenly stopped. She saw that no one was listening.
A lot of kids had turned to the window and were staring out.
What were they gawking at?
I jumped out of my seat so I could see. “OH, NO!” I let out a horrified cry.
Gassy!
He had escaped from the dorm. The fat bulldog stood outside the classroom window, staring in. And he had the lunchroom lady’s WOODEN LEG between his teeth!
Kids were pointing and screaming. A bunch of them ran to the window to get a better view.
I sank back into my seat and shut my eyes.
“Whose dog is that?” Mrs. Heinie demanded. “Does anyone know? Whose dog is that?”
And then I heard Sherman Oaks’s voice ring out loud and clear: “It’s Bernie’s. It’s Bernie’s dog!”
