by Nancy Krulik
For Ian, whose burps started it all!—NK
For the whole Big Burpin’ Blecha Bunch!—AB
GROSSET & DUNLAP
Penguin Young Readers Group
An Imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
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Text copyright © 2017 by Nancy Krulik. Illustrations copyright © 2017 by Aaron Blecha. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
Ebook ISBN 9780515158984
Version_1
Dedication
Copyright
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
About the Author and Illustrator
“I’m singin’ in the rain . . .”
George Brown was surprised to hear his teacher, Mrs. Kelly, suddenly start singing in front of the class.
“I’m singin’ and dancin’ in the rain . . .”
The next thing George knew, Mrs. Kelly was dancing. Which wasn’t nearly as surprising. Mrs. Kelly loved to dance. She did it all the time.
George looked up as Mrs. Kelly twirled past his desk. There were huge stains forming under her pits. Boy, his teacher could really sweat.
Mrs. Kelly made her way back up to the front of the room. Then she looked out at the class and tried to catch her breath.
“I bet you’re wondering why I’m singing to you about rain,” Mrs. Kelly said between huffs and puffs.
George had been wondering that. He’d also been wondering when his teacher would stop singing. Her voice really was awful.
“I’m singing about rain because our new science unit is wild weather,” Mrs. Kelly continued. “And the first kind of storm we’re studying is a hurricane.”
George sat up in his seat. That sounded kind of interesting.
“A hurricane is a tropical storm that has really strong winds and heavy rain,” Mrs. Kelly continued. “We rate them on a scale of one to five, depending on how hard the wind is blowing.”
Max raised his hand. “Is a hurricane the same thing as a tornado?” he asked.
“No,” Mrs. Kelly told him. “A tornado is actually a spinning tube of air that—”
Mrs. Kelly was busy talking about the difference between a tornado and a hurricane, but George wasn’t actually listening anymore. He was too busy paying attention to the big storm that was brewing in the bottom of his belly.
There were bubbles in there. Hundreds of them. And not just your ordinary, run-of-the-mill stomach bubbles. These were magical super burp bubbles.
There would be trouble if those bubbles broke loose. There was always trouble when the magical super burp came around.
George’s bubble trouble had started right after his family moved to Beaver Brook. George’s dad was in the army, and his family moved around a lot. Which meant George had been the new kid in school lots of times. So he understood that first days could be rotten. But this first day was the rottenest.
At his old school, George was the class clown. But George had promised himself that things were going to be different this time. No more pranks. No more making funny faces behind teachers’ backs.
Sadly, nobody notices a new, unfunny kid. George felt like he was invisible. Everyone ignored him. Well, everyone except Louie Farley, who for some reason had hated George from the start.
That night, George’s parents took him out to Ernie’s Ice Cream Emporium to cheer him up. While they were sitting outside and George was finishing his root beer float, a shooting star flashed across the sky. So George made a wish.
I want to make kids laugh—but not get into trouble.
Unfortunately, the star was gone before George could finish the wish. So only half came true—the first half.
A minute later, George had a funny feeling in his belly. It was like there were hundreds of tiny bubbles bouncing around in there. The bubbles ping-ponged their way into his chest and bing-bonged their way up into his throat. And then . . .
George let out a big burp. A huge burp. A SUPER burp!
The super burp was loud, and it was magic.
Suddenly George lost control of his arms and legs. It was like they had minds of their own. His hands grabbed straws and stuck them up his nose like a walrus. His feet jumped up on the table and started dancing the hokey pokey. Everyone at Ernie’s started laughing—except George’s parents, who were covered in the ice cream he’d kicked over while he was dancing.
After that night, the burp came back over and over again. And every time it did, it made a mess of things.
That was why George couldn’t let that burp burst out of him now. Not while Mrs. Kelly was trying to explain the difference between a hurricane and a tornado.
But the bubbles were strong. Already they had cling-clanged their way past his kidneys and ping-ponged their way onto his pancreas.
The bubbles slipped and slid up his spine. They tickled at his tonsils.
George shut his mouth tight. He had to keep the bubbles inside. The bubbles threaded their way up George’s throat. They tap-danced on his tongue. And then . . .
George let out a giant burp. A super burp. A burp so loud and so strong it could be categorized as a catastrophic, category-five burp!
“George!” Mrs. Kelly said, surprised. “What do you say?”
George wanted to say, “Excuse me.” But George wasn’t in charge anymore. The burp was. And what the burp wanted to say was, “It’s a twister!”
The next thing George knew, he was leaping out of his seat. His hips were twisting around and around.
Everyone in the class stared. An evil smile formed on Louie Farley’s face.
“That weirdo freak is gonna get it now,” Louie told his pals Mike and Max. “No way Mrs. Kelly is letting George get away with twisting around in the middle of science.”
Mrs. Kelly stared at George.
George stared at Mrs. Kelly.
And then . . .
Mrs. Kelly’s hips started twisting, too.
“You’re right, George,” Mrs. Kelly told him. “A tornado is called a twister. And this dance is called the twist.”
Louie’s smile turned upside down. He couldn’t believe George wasn’t in trouble.
Neither could George.
The next thing George knew, Mrs. Kelly was twisting her way down the aisle right toward hi
m. She grabbed George’s hand.
“Come on, let’s do the twist,” she sang as she twisted her hips.
George’s face turned beet red. He didn’t want to be dancing with his teacher. He didn’t want to be holding her sweaty, sticky hand.
But the burp didn’t mind. It just kept twisting.
George twisted up.
He twisted down.
He twisted all around. And then . . .
Pop! Suddenly something burst in the bottom of George’s belly. It felt like someone had stuck a pin in a balloon down there. All the air rushed out of him.
The magical super burp was gone.
But George was still there. Doing the twist. And holding Mrs. Kelly’s sweaty hand.
Everyone was staring at him. A couple of kids were laughing. Louie was laughing the hardest.
George groaned. He was never going to live this down. Ever.
“I can’t believe that happened to me,” George told his best friend, Alex, as they walked together over to the lunch table later that day.
“Me either,” Alex agreed. “Holding hands with Mrs. Kelly. That had to be awful. We’ve really got to find a cure for that burp.”
“Shhh . . . ,” George whispered. “Someone will hear you.”
Alex lowered his voice. “I’m working on it. There has to be a scientific way to get rid of a stubborn burp like the one you’ve got.”
George was glad he had a smart friend like Alex. If anyone could find a way to squelch the belch, he would. Alex could figure out anything.
In fact, he’d figured out George’s problem all on his own. George hadn’t told Alex about the burp. He hadn’t told anyone. It was too embarrassing.
“Hey, guys, what took you so long?” George’s friend Julianna asked as she moved over to let George and Alex sit down at the lunch table.
“I was trying to find a Jell-O that didn’t have a fingerprint on the top,” George said. “I don’t want to eat Jell-O some other kid touched.”
“I just grabbed a banana,” Alex said. “You can’t touch that without ripping open the peel.”
“That does make a banana a-peeling,” Louie joked.
No one laughed. At least not until Louie glared at Max and Mike, his best—and only—friends.
“Good one, Louie,” Max said quickly.
“Yeah, I haven’t heard that one in a really long time,” Mike agreed. “Not since I was five.”
“I haven’t heard it since I was four,” Max said. “Maybe even three.”
“You sure are funny, Louie,” Mike added.
“You were the funny one in class this morning, Georgie,” Sage interrupted. She batted her eyelashes at him.
George looked away. He hated when Sage called him Georgie.
“Yeah,” Julianna agreed. “I can’t believe you got up and did the twist in the middle of science.”
“And held Mrs. Kelly’s hand,” Louie added.
“Don’t remind me.” George groaned.
“You crack me up,” Julianna told George. “I never know when you’re going to go completely bananas. What got into you, anyway?”
George frowned. It wasn’t what had gotten into him. It was what had busted out of him—that darn burp. But of course George couldn’t tell her that. He wasn’t sure what to say.
But Louie had plenty to say. And it was all about himself. As usual. Louie loved talking about himself.
“All this talk about bananas reminds me that I have big news,” Louie announced.
“You finally remembered you’re a big, dumb, banana-loving ape?” George joked.
The kids all laughed. Even Max and Mike—until Louie glared at them.
“No,” Louie said. “My big news is that my father is going to be part owner of a new ice cream parlor. And they’re going to make the best banana splits in the world.”
“Wow!” Sage exclaimed. “You’re going to have your own ice cream parlor?”
“Yup,” Louie replied proudly. “It’s going to be called Farley’s Flying Floats.”
“Flying Floats?” Chris repeated. “What does that mean?”
“Just what it says,” Louie told him.
“But it doesn’t actually say anything,” Alex told him.
“Sure it does,” Louie said. “At my dad’s place, your ice cream is going to fly to your table.”
“How is it going to do that?” Max asked. “Are you going to hire birds to fly the ice cream around?”
“Won’t the birds get feathers in the ice cream?” Mike wondered.
“Yeah,” Max added. “And what about bird poop? That stuff goes everywhere.”
Louie looked at his two friends and shook his head. “My dad’s not hiring birds.”
“Then who’s going to serve the ice cream?” Max asked.
“No one,” Louie replied.
George frowned. Louie was obviously dragging this out because he liked the attention. He wished he would just get to the point already.
“How can no one serve the ice cream?” he asked Louie.
“My dad is buying drones,” Louie replied proudly.
“What’s a drone?” Max asked.
“They’re kind of like flying robots,” Louie explained.
Whoa. Even George had to admit that was cool.
“Where’s the ice cream parlor gonna be?” Chris asked Louie.
“On Main Street,” Louie replied.
“But we already have an ice cream parlor on Main Street,” Alex said. “Ernie’s Ice Cream Emporium.”
“Ernie’s is yesterday’s news,” Louie told him. “Farley’s Flying Floats is the future. Everyone is gonna want to hang out at my dad’s place.”
“But that’s not fair. Your dad’s restaurant could put Ernie’s out of business,” Alex said.
“Oh well,” Louie replied with a shrug.
“Ernie has had that ice cream parlor forever,” Alex continued.
“So what?” Louie said.
“So your dad already has a lot of money,” Alex explained. “Why would he want to put someone out of business?”
Louie shrugged again. “Because he can.”
George had to agree with Louie on this one—for once. He certainly didn’t care if Ernie’s Ice Cream Emporium went out of business. He hated that place. And he had every right to. After all, Ernie’s was the original scene of the burp.
Alex knew why George hated Ernie’s.
And George was Alex’s best friend.
So why was he so anxious to have Ernie’s Ice Cream Emporium stick around?
“I don’t get it,” George said to Alex as the boys walked home from school at the end of the day. “Who cares where you buy your ice cream? A banana split is a banana split. A sundae is a sundae. A root beer float is a root beer float.”
“Is it?” Alex asked George mysteriously.
George gave Alex a funny look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just mean, what if a float isn’t just a float?” Alex said. “What if there’s something special about Ernie’s root beer floats that gave you a super burp?”
“I told you a million times, the burp is magic,” George insisted. “It was all because of that stupid wish I made on the shooting star.”
Alex shook his head. “I’m not so sure,” he said. “I don’t really believe in magic. I believe in science. There has to be a logical reason this happened to you. That’s why I keep looking for a scientific way for you to get rid of the burp.”
Alex had certainly come up with lots of burp cures for George to try. Like chewing really slow. And pouring hot mustard down his throat. And drinking an onion milkshake . . .
So far, all George had wound up with was gooey food, a burnt tongue, and really, really bad breath. And the super burp was still around.
“You’re the only one we know of,” Alex said. “There could be other super burpers out there. Maybe they don’t go to our school. Or maybe they don’t even go to school. Maybe they’re grown-ups. Ernie’s Ice Cream Emporium has been serving floats for a long, long time.”
Grown-ups with a super burp problem? Yikes. That would be awful. Especially since some grown-ups had such important jobs.
What if the super burp made a football player get all turned around and score the winning touchdown for the other team?
Or what if the super burp made a hairdresser go all wacko and give some lady a buzz cut when she asked for a trim?
The idea that grown-ups could have bubble trouble was really scary. The idea that George could still be burping when he was a grown-up was even scarier.
“Anyway, it would be easier for me to find a cure for the burp if I could figure out what really caused it,” Alex continued. “That means knowing all the ingredients in Ernie’s root beer float.”
“That’s easy,” George said. “Root beer and ice cream. I like chocolate ice cream.”
“There may be something special about Ernie’s root beer. Or his ice cream,” Alex said. “After all, you had other root beer floats before the day you got the burp, didn’t you? Like in your old hometown.”
George nodded. “Root beer floats were always my favorite,” he said. “Not anymore!”
“We have to figure out what Ernie puts in his floats that makes them extra gassy,” Alex said.
“How are you going to do that?” George asked. “It’s not like Ernie’s gonna let some kid wander around his kitchen searching through his ingredients.”
“I know,” Alex said. “But there has to be a way for us to get back there.”
“Us?” George’s voice cracked. “I’m not going back to Ernie’s. Ever. And I don’t think he’d want me to.”
