by Nancy Krulik
“Oh, Georgie,” Sage called suddenly from the back of the auditorium. “Wait up. Save a seat for me.”
“Like that’s happening,” George said. He hurried into the row where Julianna was sitting and took the seat next to her. Alex and Chris sat down next to George. Sage was three people away.
Mrs. Kelly stepped onto the stage. She walked over to the microphone and tapped on it twice. Then she used her sleeve to wipe some smudges off her glasses and looked at her clipboard.
“As some of you may know, it is a tradition here at Edith B. Sugarman for the fourth grade to put on a Holiday Spectacular for the whole school.”
Louie turned around from the row in front of George and his friends. “See? What’d I tell you?”
“Mrs. Cadenza will be the music director, and I will be your choreographer and director.”
“Choreographer? That means she’s going to make us dance in front of everyone,” Julianna said with a frown.
“This is going to be a nightmare,” Alex agreed. “I can’t dance.”
“Everyone has a part. So don’t worry. Nobody will be left out,” Mrs. Kelly said. “Mrs. Cadenza is passing around the cast list now.”
A minute later, George stared at the paper that his music teacher had handed him. He looked for his name. “Oh man,” he complained. “This stinks. I’m a snowflake.”
“Georgie, I’m a snowflake, too!” Sage squealed loudly. Quickly, she traded seats with Julianna, so she could be closer to George. “We’re going to have so much fun rehearsing together. Maybe we can practice after school, too.”
George sank down in his chair and buried his face in his hands.
“Look. There are six snowflakes,” Alex told him, pointing at the cast list. “You won’t even have to talk to Sage. It won’t be so bad.”
“Easy for you to say,” George said. “You’re one of, like, twenty carolers. Carolers don’t dance. You can stand in the back and move your lips without really singing.”
“I don’t think I’m dancing, either,” Chris said. “It says I’m a hibernating bear. I don’t think you can dance when you’re hibernating.”
“Lucky you,” Julianna said. “I’m stuck singing that dumb ‘Happy Elves’ song we learned in music class. I’m singing it as a trio with Max and Mike.”
“Max and Mike are singing without Louie? I didn’t think they could breathe without him,” George commented.
Louie turned around again and smiled. “I’m singing ‘Cold Winter Wind.’ I’ve got a solo.”
“He should sing solo,” George whispered to Alex, Chris, and Julianna. “So low we can’t hear him.”
George’s friends all laughed.
“It’s kind of strange, isn’t it,” George went on, “that Mrs. Kelly has Louie singing a song about cold air when he’s usually so full of hot air.”
“What’s so funny?” Louie demanded.
George was on a roll. Louie was so easy to goof on. But George didn’t make any more jokes about him. He was trying to be the new, improved George. And that meant not making fun of anyone. Not even Louie. At least not out loud, anyway.
“We do a Winter Wonderland Watusi while we sing that snow song,” George groaned to Chris and Alex as they walked home from school later that afternoon. “I hate that snow song.”
“You guys want to come over for a while?” Alex asked.
“Sure. For a little bit,” Chris answered.
“I’m going home,” George said. “My mom’s at work. This is the perfect time for present hunting!” And there was no ice on the streets, so maybe he’d have time for some skateboarding, too.
When George got home, he didn’t even stop to have a snack. He just started looking around the house in all the places that might be hiding a Christmas present.
He searched under all the beds, in every drawer, and in the closets. He even looked in the clothes dryer. But there were no gift boxes.
George was just about to give up when he spotted something red and green hidden under a pile of dirty laundry next to the washer. Sure enough, there it was: a green and red box with a card that read FOR GEORGE.
Oh yeah! The box was just the right size and shape for a black leather skateboarding jacket. Or for that way- cool gray hoodie with the skeleton on it. For months he’d been hinting that he wanted it. Quickly, George lifted the lid off the box and peeked inside.
There was no jacket. No hoodie. Instead, there was a green and red sweater with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer knit into the front. Rudolph’s nose was a red pom-pom. It was the ugliest thing George had ever seen.
“Hi, Mom,” George said as he walked into his mom’s craft store, the Knit Wit, after dinner that night. “Something came up and Dad had to go to the army base, so he dropped me off and—ta da!—here I am.”
“Hi, honey,” George’s mom answered without looking up. She was wrapping a gift. She couldn’t stop for even a minute. There was a whole line of people waiting. “You can go do your homework in the back.”
“Already did it,” George told her. And he had. George knew all there was to know about skateboards now. He’d even practiced two new moves to show the class.
George looked at the long line. “You need help?”
“Um, no thanks, honey,” she said.
George figured his mom was probably remembering the last time he’d helped out. A super burp had hit, and it was just lucky his mom was still in business.
“I’ll do a good job,” George promised. “I won’t cause trouble.”
George’s mom sighed. “Okay. I really do need the help,” she said finally. “Why don’t you take over wrapping gifts while I work the cash register?”
“You’ve got it,” George said happily. He loved wrapping gifts. It was like doing an art project. He stepped behind the counter and took a box of beads from the next customer. Then he began folding and taping the wrapping paper around the gift. He finished it all off by sticking a red bow right on top. “Next!” George cried out happily.
George had wrapped three or four presents when suddenly something terrible happened. The store door opened. And then . . .
“Hi, Georgie!”
It was Sage. There was no escaping her. Not even here, in the safety of his mother’s store.
George stayed focused on the knit-a-poncho kit he was wrapping. Fold over the edges. Tape the sides. Add the bow.
“Oh, I see you’re busy, Georgie,” Sage said. “I’ll shop for a while with my mom, and then I’ll come talk to you.”
Don’t do me any favors, George thought to himself. But out loud he just said, “Next!”
A woman placed a make-your-own-stained-glass kit on the counter. George unrolled a big piece of green wrapping paper and placed it under the box. He reached for the tape. And then something started to happen. Something even worse than seeing Sage come through that door.
There were bubbles bouncing around in his belly. Bing-bong. Ping-pong. The bubbles were big. They were strong. And they could only mean one thing: The super burp was back!
George couldn’t let that burp slip from his lips. Not after he’d promised his mom there would be no trouble. Quickly, he grabbed the tape dispenser and pulled off a long piece. He placed the tape right over his lips and sealed them shut. But those bubbles kept bouncing around and pushing on his lips, searching for one little opening.
And there it was. Right on the side of his mouth. Bing-bong. Ping-pong. The bubbles were looking for an escape hatch!
George reached for another piece of tape. Oh no! The dispenser was empty. George had to seal his lips shut. But how?
And Sage was heading in his direction again. Double trouble!
Suddenly, George’s eyes fell on the pile of bows with sticky backings. Quickly, he grabbed a big red one, peeled off the backing, and sm
acked it on his lips. The bubbles bounced hard against the bow. And then . . .
Whoosh! George felt the air rush right out of him. It was as if someone had popped a balloon right in the middle of his belly. The super burp was gone!
Unfortunately, Sage was still there. “That’s just what I want for Christmas,” she squealed. “Georgie, all wrapped up with a big red bow.”
Oh man. How embarrassing.
“Isn’t that sweet?” one woman said.
“They’re such cute kids,” another added.
Ordinarily, that would have made George really, really mad. But not now. George had squelched the belch. And that was all that mattered.
On Friday morning, Sage told everyone about how Georgie had wrapped himself up as a gift, just for her.
“Dude, for real?” Alex asked as the boys took their seats in Mrs. Kelly’s classroom.
“Of course not. I was trying to stop the burp,” George explained. “I sealed up my mouth with a bow.”
“Oh,” Alex nodded. “That makes more sense. “
“And I beat it,” George said proudly. “But it wasn’t easy. You’ve got to find a cure, fast! Sage thinks I like her. That’s one of the meanest tricks the burp has ever played on me.”
“Okay, class,” Mrs. Kelly said. “Take your seats. I can’t wait to hear your oral reports. Who would like to go first?”
George shot his hand up in the air. So did Louie, Sage, and Julianna.
“Julianna, why don’t you start us off?” Mrs. Kelly said.
George frowned. But he didn’t say anything. He would wait his turn—like a new, improved, well-behaved George.
Julianna held up her wooden boomerang. “Boomerangs are very popular in Australia. But ancient ones have been found in parts of Europe and Asia,” she explained. “King Tut had a collection of them when he ruled Egypt. And even though we think of them as toys, boomerangs can be used for hunting.”
George had to admit, the boomerang was cool. But his skateboard was even cooler. Wait until the kids saw him pop a wheelie right in the classroom!
Mrs. Kelly chose Sage to go after Julianna.
“Dolls are the oldest toys in the history of the world. Girls have been playing with them since prehistoric times,” Sage told the class. “In ancient Greece, girls would make clothes for their dolls and dress them up. Dolls are important for learning as well as playing because they teach girls how to be moms.”
George pulled out a pen and started drawing a skeleton tattoo on his arm. Sage’s report was the most boring ever!
When Sage finally finished her report about dolls, Mrs. Kelly asked Louie to talk about his favorite toy. Louie walked up to the front of the room and pulled a red and yellow yo-yo from his pocket. “The yo-yo is the second-oldest toy in history, right after the doll,” Louie said. “Kids in ancient Greece played with yo-yos made from clay and wood and . . .”
George was trying to pay attention to Louie. He really was. But it was hard because of what was going on inside his belly. There were bubbles yo-yoing up and down in there. And that could mean only one thing: The magical super burp was back. Again. Didn’t it ever take a break?
Boing-bong. Ping-pong. The burp was already kicking at George’s kidneys and rocketing against his ribs. Quickly, George rolled up a wad of paper and shoved it inside his mouth like a cork.
But the burp wasn’t going to give up so fast. It bounced on George’s tongue like a trampoline. And then . . .
The paper cork burst out of George’s mouth—and hit Sage right in the back of the head.
“Ow!” Sage turned and looked at George. “Why did you do that, Georgie?”
“Oh no, dude,” Alex whispered to him.
Oh yes, dude.
Louie tried to ignore the sound of the burp. “There are hundreds of yo-yo tricks,” he said, continuing his report. “The first trick I learned was how to make it sleep.”
That was all the super burp had to hear. George’s nose went nuts and started snoring. “Zzzzzz. Zzzzzz.”
The kids laughed. Well, all except Louie. He yelled, “George, stop acting all weird!”
“George, please,” Mrs. Kelly said. “Don’t interrupt. Go on, Louie.”
“And this trick is called skin the cat,” Louie continued. “You start by making your yo-yo sleep—”
Before Louie could go any further, George sprang up onto Mrs. Kelly’s desk. “Meow. Meow! He skinned me!” George hissed like an angry cat. “Meow!”
The kids were really cracking up now.
Whoosh! All the air rushed out of George. It was as if someone had popped a balloon in his belly.
The super burp was gone. But George was still sitting on Mrs. Kelly’s desk!
“George, get down,” Mrs. Kelly said.
George did as he was told.
“I don’t know why you do these silly things,” Mrs. Kelly told him. “But I can’t have you ruining everyone’s presentations. Please go down to Principal McKeon’s office.”
“But I have my skateboard . . .” George began. But he could tell by the look on Mrs. Kelly’s face that he wasn’t going to be popping any wheelies today. The only popping he’d be doing was popping down to the principal’s office. Again.
“Is everybody ready to deck the halls?” Mr. Buttonwood, the leader of Beaver Scout Troop 307, asked that evening. The troop was going to decorate yards around town. The people who wanted their yards decorated were leaving notes in their mailboxes asking the Beaver Scouts to hang Christmas ornaments and tinsel on their trees.
“This was a great idea, Julianna,” George said as he gathered up a bag of ornaments.
“It seemed like a fun way to earn our Good Neighbor scout badges,” Julianna said. “I made some God’s-eye ornaments from string and Popsicle sticks to hang on trees. My parents learned how to do it when they were visiting the Huichol tribe in Mexico.”
“I brought popcorn strands,” Chris said. “They’re a gift for hungry birds. Nobody ever thinks of them at Christmas.”
“That’s true,” Alex agreed. “I’ll help you string them on the branches.”
“Did you see the ornament I made, Georgie?” Sage asked him. She held up a red plastic heart.
“Hearts are for Valentine’s Day,” George said.
“I know,” Sage said. “I can’t wait for our first Valentine’s Day together.”
George ignored Sage and said, “Oh look, more stuff.”
Max and Mike were lugging huge bags of ornaments.
“Be careful not to break anything,” Louie told them.
“We’re hanging all these ornaments for Louie,” Max and Mike said together.
“Then what are you doing to earn your Good Neighbor badge?” Alex asked Louie.
“I’ll tell them where to hang everything,” Louie explained. “I have a good eye for that. For instance, I know the angel needs to go on the top of the tree. Also, I have to be careful with my hands,” Louie explained. “What if I hurt one of my fingers hanging a Christmas ball? How will I play the guitar when I sing my solo in the Holiday Spectacular?” Then he turned to George. “I bet you’re already practicing how you’re going to mess it up.”
George couldn’t think of anything to say back. There had been a rehearsal at the end of the school day, and it had gone fine. As bad as being a snowflake was, George would be happy to sing and do the Watusi if only he didn’t wind up going wacko in front of the whole school.
“Okay, gang. Ready to leave?” Troop Leader Buttonwood called out, and then he slid on an open roll of ribbon.
“Whoa!” Thud. “OUCH!”
The kids all came running to help Troop Leader Buttonwood to his feet.
“Are you all right?” Sage asked him. The troop leader rubbed his rear end. “I’m fine,�
�� he said. “I meant to trip on that. I was showing you kids that it’s dangerous to leave stuff on the ground.”
A few minutes later, George and the other Beaver Scouts were all busy hanging ornaments and stringing ropes of tinsel on trees in families’ yards. It felt good to be doing something nice for his neighbors. Especially since the neighbors had been rewarding the scouts with yummy treats! Already George had eaten two candy canes, a huge chocolate chip cookie, a peppermint patty, and a piece of fruitcake.
“This is awesome,” George said as he popped the last bit of cake into his mouth. “We should do it every year.”
“There’s my house!” Louie shouted suddenly, pointing down the road. “See it? The mansion with all the Christmas lights? My dad goes really crazy at Christmastime. This year he hired seven guys just to hang the lights and put up the decorations.”
There were sparkling lights all over the house, the trees, and the bushes. There was music blasting from speakers on the roof. A plastic Santa popped up and down from the chimney. On the front lawn there was a giant sleigh pulled by a fleet of huge plastic reindeer, led by Rudolph with a giant, glowing red nose. And on the porch, a giant wooden soldier nutcracker stood guard.
“Wow!” George exclaimed. “This is awesome.” He didn’t like to compliment Louie, but he couldn’t help himself.
“I know,” Louie said.
“Why don’t you let your parents know we’re here?” Troop Leader Buttonwood suggested to Louie.
George didn’t really want to see Louie’s mom. Mrs. Farley hated George because of how he’d practically ruined Louie’s birthday party. Quickly, George hid behind Alex and Chris.
“Merry Christmas!” Louie’s mom said as she came to her door. “My Loo Loo Poo told me you scouts would be coming by.”
