Three Burps and You're Out

by Nancy Krulik

  “Good one, dude,” Alex complimented him.

  Chris didn’t say anything. He was too busy drawing to notice.

  “You guys, the game is starting.” Julianna pointed toward the field. “Am I the only one here who thinks winning is important?”

  George shook his head. They all wanted to win. It was just that nobody thought it was as important as Julianna did.

  “Wow! That was some pitch.” Julianna cheered as they watched the ball go over the plate. “Did you see how the catcher jumped up to throw it back after he caught it, George? That keeps him from making any wild throws.”

  George didn’t answer.

  “Come on, George, focus,” Julianna insisted.

  George wanted to focus on what was happening down on the baseball field. But that was impossible. Because right then the only thing George could focus on was what was going on down inside his belly. There were a whole lot of bubbles bouncing around in there. And that could only mean one thing. The super burp was back.

  Bing-bong. Ping-pong. Already the bubbles were kickboxing his kidneys and spinning on his spleen. Ping-pong. Bing-bong.

  George tried to give Alex their secret signal. Whenever George rubbed his head and patted his stomach, Alex was supposed to pull him away before the burp could make him do something stupid in front of a bunch of people.

  Rub, rub. Pat, pat.

  But Alex was busy looking under his seat for more ABC gum. He didn’t see that George was giving him their signal.

  Zing-zoom. Bing-boom. The bubbles ricocheted off George’s ribs. They tap-danced on his tongue. And then . . .

  George let out a grand slam of a burp. It was so loud that it actually made Chris look up from his sketch pad.

  “Awesome!” Chris exclaimed.

  But George didn’t think it was awesome. He thought it was awful.

  George opened his mouth to say, “Excuse me.” But that’s not what came out. Instead, George’s mouth started singing. “Take me out to the ball game. Take me out with the crowd! Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack!”

  “Dude! No!” Alex shouted.

  The next thing George knew, his legs leaped up out of his seat. His feet ran over to the guy selling snacks. His hands grabbed some of the boxes.

  “Peanuts, popcorn, Cracker Jack!” George’s mouth shouted out.

  “Hey, that’s my job!” the vendor shouted. “Give me back those snacks!”

  George wanted to give the guy back his snacks. He wanted his feet to walk back to his seat, and he wanted his rear end to sit down. The only trouble was George wasn’t in charge anymore. The super burp was.

  “Let me root, root, root for the home team!” George’s mouth sang out. His feet danced up and down the aisles. His hands juggled boxes of peanuts, popcorn, and Cracker Jack.

  Unfortunately, George wasn’t a very good juggler. Boxes of snacks went flying all over the place. The snack vendor ran around trying to catch them.

  A stadium guard raced to the nosebleed section. “Cut it out, kid!” he shouted. “Sit down. And give back those snacks.”

  But the super burp didn’t want to give back any snacks. And it sure didn’t want to sit down. Burps aren’t very good sitters.

  The guard grabbed for George. George darted out of the way. The guard fell into the lap of a woman in a Beavers baseball cap.

  “What are you doing?!” the woman demanded.

  “Somebody catch that kid!” the guard shouted.

  “If they don’t win, it’s a shame,” George sang out. By now the whole stadium was singing with him. “For it’s one . . . two . . . three strikes . . .”

  “Check it out! George is on the JumboTron!” Chris cheered. He pointed to the giant screen.

  Pop! Just then, George felt the air rush right out of him. It was like someone had popped a balloon in his belly. The super burp was gone! But George was still there, in the middle of the stadium, surrounded by boxes of snacks.

  And it was all up there on the JumboTron for everyone to see.

  The guard glared at George. “Well, kid?” he asked. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  George opened his mouth to say, “I’m sorry.” And that’s exactly what came out.

  The guard grabbed George by the arm and started pulling him out of the stadium. “I’m calling your parents to pick you up. You’re out of here,” he said.

  George figured that was what was going to happen. It was the same thing every time. The burp had all the fun, and George got in all the trouble. Bubble trouble. The worst kind there was.

  “I’m really sorry I didn’t leave with you Saturday night,” Alex told George when the boys walked to school together on Monday morning. “I tried to, but Julianna made me stay and take notes on the plays the Beavers were making. She’s obsessed with winning this game.”

  “It’s okay,” George said. “My mom came and got me. She was really, really mad. It’s probably better you weren’t in the car with us.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, Louie was superjealous you got to be on the JumboTron and he didn’t,” Alex told him. “We ran into him after the game, and he was still mad about it. I’m telling you, dude. His face was so red, I thought it was going to explode.”

  George grinned, imagining Louie’s head exploding like a giant volcano.

  “That was definitely one of your biggest burps yet,” Alex said.

  George frowned. “Yeah, I think they’re getting worse.”

  “Well, I went on The Burp No More Blog, and I think I have a new idea for stopping the burps,” Alex told him. “You gotta stop chewing gum. Because the more you chew, the more you let air into your stomach. And the more air . . .”

  “The more gas,” George said, finishing his thought. “And the more burps. It makes sense. Only . . .”

  “Only what?” Alex asked.

  “If I stop chewing gum, I can’t help you build up your record-breaking ABC gum ball,” George explained.

  “Sure you can,” Alex said. “You don’t have to chew it yourself. You can help me find ABC gum under chairs and tables or on park benches. It’s everywhere.”

  George thought about that for a minute. “Yeah, I guess,” he said finally. “I can stop chewing gum if I have to.”

  “Sure you can,” Alex told him. “It will totally be worth it.”

  George smiled. “You’re not kidding.”

  “Hot lunch today will be tuna surprise.” A fifth-grader named Sasha read from her note cards during the morning announcements on the school’s television station, WEBS TV. “And our art teacher, Mrs. Jasper, is keeping the art room open after school every day this week for students who want to work on their projects for Thursday’s art show.”

  George yawned and then chewed off a piece of his fingernail. He had thought having a school TV station was going to be really exciting. But now he realized that nothing ever happened at Edith B. Sugarman Elementary School. And that meant there was never anything exciting to announce.

  “And now we’ll hear from Julianna with her sports update,” Sasha said.

  George stopped chewing his nail and tried to pay attention. After all, Julianna was his friend.

  “This Friday, the Edith B. Sugarman Elementary Sea Monkeys will be battling it out against the undefeated Klockermeister Elementary Kangaroos for the fourth-grade baseball championship,” Julianna said. “Come cheer on the Sea Monkeys as we prepare to take back the trophy!”

  “Sea Monkeys! Sea Monkeys! Sea Monkeys!” George cheered. He couldn’t help himself.

  Suddenly George’s teacher, Mrs. Kelly, stood up. Uh-oh. This couldn’t be good.

  “You’re gonna get it now,” Louie whispered to him.

  George gulped.

  Mrs. Kelly walked over to George’s desk. She stood right over him, glaring. And then a huge smile broke out on her face.

  “Sea Monkeys! Sea Monkeys! Sea Monkeys!” Mrs. Kelly cheered.

  “Sea Monkeys! Sea Monkeys! Sea Monkeys!” the class ch
eered back.

  They were still cheering when Julianna walked into the classroom a few minutes later and took her seat in the front of the room.

  Mrs. Kelly smiled. “Now that I have all my sea monkeys in place, it’s time to start our science unit.” She reached down under her desk and pulled out a plastic aquarium.

  George had seen aquariums like that at Mr. Furstman’s pet shop. They were usually filled with pretty fish. But there weren’t any guppies, bettas, or angelfish swimming in this tank. All George could see were tiny, creepy creatures in the water. They had long sticklike bodies and two huge black circles at the tops of the sticks that kind of looked like eyeballs.

  “What are those things?” Sage asked. She made a face. “They look nasty.”

  Mrs. Kelly smiled at her. “Those,” she said, “are sea monkeys.”

  The kids all stared at their teacher in surprise.

  “They can’t be sea monkeys,” Louie said. “They don’t have any arms. And they aren’t eating bananas or saying ook, ook, ook.”

  “Sorry, Louie, but sea monkeys don’t act like zoo monkeys,” Mrs. Kelly explained. “Because sea monkeys aren’t monkeys at all. They’re brine shrimp.”

  George couldn’t believe his ears. “You mean we’re actually the Edith B. Sugarman Elementary Shrimp?” he asked.

  Mrs. Kelly laughed. “I guess so,” she said.

  “So why do they call them monkeys?” Alex asked.

  Mrs. Kelly shrugged. “I guess because they look like they’re playing around while they swim. And because they have tails.”

  “They do look like they’re having fun in there,” George admitted.

  “That’s what you do on the baseball field,” Mrs. Kelly said. “Have fun.”

  “And we win,” Julianna added. “Don’t forget about winning.”

  “How can we? You won’t let us,” Louie told her.

  “Winning is fun,” Mrs. Kelly agreed. “But it isn’t everything, Julianna.”

  Julianna didn’t argue. But she didn’t look convinced, either.

  “I thought it would be fun to learn about sea monkeys this week,” Mrs. Kelly told the class. “After all, they’re who we are. We should be proud of them.”

  Proud? George groaned. Who could ever be proud of being called a teeny-weeny sea shrimp?

  “I’m telling you, guys,” George said as he and his friends sat down at the lunch table later that afternoon. “If the Klockermeister Kangaroos ever find out what sea monkeys really are, they’ll never let us live it down. They’ll call us shrimp. We’ll be the laughingstock of the whole league.”

  “Not if we destroy the Kangaroos on the field,” Julianna insisted. “Then the only thing we’ll be called is champions.”

  “But no one can beat those guys,” Alex pointed out. “They’re amazing . . . and undefeated.”

  “We can beat them,” Julianna said. “We’re just going to have to work hard. I say we have an extra practice at recess.”

  “Good idea,” Alex agreed.

  “Definitely,” George added.

  “You need extra practice, George,” Louie told him as he walked by. “Practice in how not to be weird!”

  Max and Mike started laughing.

  “Good one,” Max told Louie.

  “Your best one yet,” Mike added.

  George rolled his eyes. If that was the best Louie had, George had nothing to worry about—other than the super burp making him do more weird things, anyway.

  “I have some new pitches I want to work on,” Julianna told George. “You and I will have to come up with some more signals.”

  “I want to practice bunting,” Alex said.

  Everyone was getting very excited about the idea of an extra baseball prac-tice at recess. Well, almost everyone.

  Chris shook his head. “I’m not going to be able to practice at recess today,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?” George asked him. “We’re all practicing.”

  “I can’t,” Chris insisted. “I have to go to the art room and work on my project. The art show is only three days away.”

  “And the game’s only four days away,” George told him. “Which one’s more important?”

  Chris shrugged. “The art show. I really want to win that blue ribbon for the best piece in the show.”

  George’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “I told you. He always gets obsessed before the art show,” Julianna told George.

  “You don’t have a chance at winning that blue ribbon,” Louie told Chris. “My dad has hired a really famous artist to help me with my project. His name is Pablo Zoocaso.”

  George didn’t think it was fair for Louie to have a real artist helping him with his project. But that wasn’t the point right now.

  “I didn’t know the season was going to go on this long,” Chris explained. “If I thought we were going to make it all the way to the championship, I wouldn’t have joined the team.”

  “You only joined the team because you thought we would be losers?” George asked, surprised.

  “I joined because I wanted to hang out with you guys,” Chris answered.

  “We’re not hanging out. We’re winning!” Julianna insisted.

  Chris’s face was turning red. “No matter how much we practice, we can’t beat the Kangaroos!” he shouted. “We’re just a bunch of wimpy shrimpies!”

  Wow! George had never seen Chris get upset like this before. Julianna wasn’t kidding when she said Chris got crazy right before the art show. He was acting just plain nuts!

  “I can’t believe Chris didn’t come to practice after school, either,” George said as he and Alex headed home late that afternoon.

  “Coach gave him the afternoon off to work with Mrs. Jasper,” Alex reminded him.

  “I know the art show’s important,” George said, “but what about team loyalty?”

  “He’ll be at the next practice,” Alex assured George.

  Just then, two kids in Klockermeister Kangaroos T-shirts walked up to Alex and George.

  “Look, it’s a couple of Sea Monkeys,” one of the Kangaroos said.

  “We’re gonna destroy you guys,” the second Kangaroo said.

  “Oh yeah?” George asked. “What makes you so sure?”

  “Because sea monkeys are just wimpy shrimpies,” the first Kangaroo told him. “Kangaroos can stomp them out with one hop.” He stomped his foot, smashing an imaginary sea monkey into the sidewalk. Then the two Kangaroos ran off laughing.

  “Did you hear that?” George asked Alex. “Those are the exact words Chris used. He’s probably so angry from lunch that he told the Kangaroos who we really are.”

  “You don’t know that. Anyone could come up with that rhyme,” Alex said. But he looked upset. “Chris would never tell anyone that sea monkeys are shrimp,” he continued. “It’s not like him.”

  George shook his head. It wasn’t like Chris to yell at everyone in the middle of the cafeteria, either. Alex could believe what he wanted. But George knew better. “We’re the laughingstock of the whole league,” George groaned. “And it’s all Chris’s fault! Chris is a TRAITOR!”

  “I did not tell anyone that we were brine shrimp or wimpy shrimpies!” Chris said the next morning when the team gathered on the playground before school.

  “Come on, admit it,” George insisted. He turned to the other kids. “They called us wimpy shrimpies—the exact words that Chris used. You should have heard those Kangaroos laughing,” he added.

  “They’re using this to psych us out,” Julianna said with a frown. “It’s gonna give them a big advantage. Chris, you really messed things up for us.”

  “I can’t believe you guys think I would do something like that,” Chris shot back.

  “It sure seems like you did,” Louie told him. “We were all at practice, so we couldn’t have been the ones who told them. But we don’t know where you were yesterday afternoon.”

  “I was in the art room,” Chris said.

&nb
sp; “So you say,” Louie told him.

  Chris looked at Alex. “You believe me, don’t you?” he asked.

  Alex shrugged. “I don’t know what to believe,” he said honestly.

  “You guys are being jerks,” Chris said.

  “We’re jerks?” George said. “You’re the traitor.”

  Chris glared at George. George glared back at Chris.

  “If that’s what you think, I don’t want to be on your stupid old team, anyway,” Chris told them. “I quit!” He turned and stormed off.

  “You can’t quit!” George shouted back. “We fire you.”

  Chris kept walking.

  “It doesn’t matter if he quits or we fire him,” Julianna said. “We’re still in trouble. We don’t have a left fielder anymore. What are we gonna do?”

  “We could ask Charlie to play,” Alex suggested.

  “Or Abby G.,” Mike tried. “She could use her older brother’s glove.”

  “I’ll take Chris’s place,” Sage piped up suddenly.

  George’s head whipped around. He hadn’t even noticed that Sage was there.

  “You don’t know anything about baseball,” Julianna told Sage.

  “That’s okay.” Sage flashed George a big smile and batted her eyelashes. “Georgie can teach me everything he knows. We can even have special extra practices together. Just Georgie and me.”

  George groaned. There was no way that was happening.

  “We do need a left fielder,” Alex said slowly.

  “And it doesn’t matter if she can catch or not because I’m on third base,” Louie reminded everyone. “That’s right in front of left field. I’ll catch those balls before they ever get near Sage.”

  “Isn’t this great, Georgie?” Sage cooed. “We’re teammates now.”

  No. It wasn’t great. It stunk. Baseball practice had been one of the few places, where George could get away from Sage’s goofy smiles and creepy batting eyelashes. But now she was going to be everywhere he was. Oh, brother.