by Nancy Krulik
Well, not a crowd, actually, because there wasn’t anyone there but Alex, George, and Chris. But the three of them were cheering. And why not? George had just completed a perfect chicken salad, and that was no easy snowboard move.
“No one does a chicken salad like you,” Alex complimented George. “You landed so smoothly. I always wind up landing with one foot crooked.”
“That’s better than I can do,” Chris told Alex. “I landed with my face in the snow last time I tried a chicken salad.”
“It just takes practice,” George told his friends. “You guys have to find your center of balance before you reach between your legs to grab the heel edge of the board.”
“Well, I’m still glad you’re entered in the snowboard contest instead of me,” Alex told him. “I’m sure you’ll come in first.”
“I hope so,” George replied. “Dice Nieveson is going to be a tough judge. I mean, he’s the best there is.”
“I don’t know why Louie entered the snowboard contest,” Chris said. “I didn’t even know he snowboarded.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Alex said. “With George competing, our school will win.”
“I hope so,” George said. “You guys want to try it one more time?”
Chris shook his head. “I have to sketch out a design for the ice-sculpting contest,” he said.
“And I’m going to go over and watch Julianna in the speed-skating race,” Alex added. “You want to come?”
“No, thanks,” George said. “I’ve got to practice the chicken salad a few more times,” he said. “I really want to nail that landing.”
As Chris and Alex headed back toward the lake and the lodge, George picked up his snowboard and . . .
AaaaCHOOOO! George let out a giant sneeze. Some boogers blasted out. But there was a tight little ball of snot that got stuck. Quickly, George whipped off his glove and picked at it with his hand.
Before George could even put his glove back on, he felt something else trying to explode. Only this time it wasn’t boogers. It was bubbles. Hundreds of them. George could feel them smashing against his spleen, and kickboxing his kidneys. They leaped up into his larynx, and tickled his tongue. And then . . .
The super burp burst out and echoed against the mountains like thunder!
Buurrrrp! Burrrp! Burrrrp! This was some burp! The burp was so happy to be out in the snow that it felt like dancing. But not just any dance. The magical super burp was in the mood to do the funky chicken!
The next thing George knew, his wings (or make that his arms) began flapping up and down. And his beak (or make that his mouth) pecked at the ground. Cold, wet snow went into his mouth and slid down his throat.
But the burp wasn’t satisfied with just dancing, flapping, and pecking. It wanted to make some noise, too. “Cheep, cheep, cheep,” George said, sounding like a chicken.
Flap, flap, flap.
Peck, peck, peck.
“Cheep, cheep, cheep.”
Pop! Just then George felt something burst in the bottom of his belly. All the air rushed out of him. The super burp was gone.
But George was still there. With a mouthful of cold, wet snow.
Luckily, there hadn’t been anyone around to see him dancing the funky chicken. George was the only one who knew what had just happened. And he would never tell.
“What are you doing?”
Uh-oh. George wasn’t alone after all. At just that moment, a girl he’d never seen before popped out from behind a tree. She was wearing a purple snow jacket and had a striped ski helmet. She was carrying a snowboard under her arm. And she was laughing.
“Me?” George asked her. “I wasn’t doing anything.”
“Really?” the girl said. “Because it sure looked like the funky chicken to me.”
Oh brother. This girl had seen everything.
“I like the funky chicken,” she said. “We did it at my cousin’s wedding.” She smiled at him. “I’m Carly. I go to Crumbunny.”
“I’m George,” he replied. “I go to Sugarman.”
“You’re a pretty good snowboarder,” Carly told George. “I’m better. But you’re pretty good.”
George looked at her with surprise. “You’re kidding, right?”
Carly shrugged. “I’m the best snowboarder at my school.”
“Yeah, well, I’m the best snowboarder at my school,” George said. “You should see my shifty.”
“Okay, show me,” Carly replied.
George picked up his snowboard. He trudged up the hill. Then he flew up in the air, twisted his body, and shifted his snowboard to the side. Then he twisted again and shifted his snowboard back to its original position. And then . . . whoosh! He landed smoothly on the crisp, white snow. A perfect shifty!
“Not bad,” Carly said. “Not bad at all. But you should see my shifty. It’s classic.”
George watched as Carly took off into the air and performed the same trick.
He had to admit she was good. Really good. In fact, she was going to give him some stiff competition.
“Impressive,” George complimented Carly as she hit the snow.
“Thanks,” Carly said. “I’m freezing. You want to go get some hot chocolate?”
Aaachooo! George sneezed.
“I’ll take that for a yes,” Carly said with a laugh. “Let’s go back to the lodge.”
“Georgie! There you are,” Sage said as George and Carly walked into the ski lodge. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I came in second in the figure-skating competition. How come you didn’t come watch me skate?”
“I was practicing snowboarding,” George told her. “With Carly. She goes to Crumbunny Elementary.”
Sage looked at Carly. Then she looked back at George. “You were snowboarding together?” she asked.
“Yeah,” George said.
“But . . . but . . . ,” Sage stammered. She didn’t know what to say.
“But she’s the enemy!” Louie finished Sage’s sentence. He angrily jumped up from the couch. “Why would you help her practice?”
“Take a chill pill, kid,” Carly told him.
“Yeah,” George agreed. “We were just having fun.”
Just then, a girl George had never seen before came racing over. “Carly, you’re supposed to be hanging out with us,” she said. “The Crumbunny kids are over by the hot-chocolate fountain.”
“I’ll be there in a minute, Rachel,” Carly said. “We just got inside.”
“When you talk about we, you’re supposed to be talking about the cool Crumbunny kids, not the Sugarman suckers,” Rachel insisted.
“Hey, who are you calling a sucker?” Julianna asked, leaping up from the rocking chair where she’d been sitting.
“If the snow boot fits . . . ,” Rachel snarled at her.
George shook his head. This was getting ridiculous. “Seriously, guys, this is no big deal,” he said. “We were just snowboarding.”
“It will be a big deal if you help Crumbunny win,” Louie said. “You know, it’s a good thing I’m entered in that snowboarding competition, too. I have the killer instinct. That’s what you need if you’re going to win. You really need to be more like me, George.”
Aaachooo! George let out a huge sneeze.
“Gross!” Louie shouted. He jumped back and . . . bam! He tripped over a wooden table, fell back, and landed right in his mother’s lap.
“Oh, Loo Loo Poo!” Mrs. Farley squealed. “You haven’t climbed onto my lap in such a long time.” She gave him a big, wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek.
Carly started giggling. “Loo Loo Poo,” she repeated.
“I know!” George laughed so hard he snorted. “Doesn’t that just scream ‘killer instinct’?”
“I can’t take it,” Chris muttered under his breath to George an
d Alex. He was shivering.
George knew it wasn’t the cold that was making Chris shiver. He was nervous. Really nervous. Because at this very moment, the judges were inspecting the ice sculpture Chris had just spent two hours creating.
The judges studied the top of Chris’s sculpture. They inspected the front. They looked at the back. Then they wrote something on their notepads and moved on to the sculpture from Crumbunny Elementary.
“That kid did a great job on his dolphin sculpture,” Chris told George and Alex. “Look how the tail flips up.”
“It’s not as good as your sculpture,” Alex assured him.
But Chris didn’t look so sure. “Come on already,” Chris muttered. “Announce the winners.”
Finally, the judges stood in front of the crowd. One of them stepped in front of the microphone. “Starting with first place,” he said. “The winner is Edith B. Sugarman Elementary school! Crumbunny Elementary has taken second place, and Snarfblatter Elementary has taken third.”
Chris didn’t say a word. He just gulped and let out a big breath. Then his knees buckled a little. Finally he whispered, “I did it.”
“Yesssss!” George shouted. He leaped up and pumped his fist in the air.
“This was a huge win for us, Chris,” Alex said. “With Julianna’s first-place finish in the speed-skating race, Sage’s second place in the figure-skating competition, and Max’s third place in the snowshoe running, we have nine points so far. That puts us in a tie for first place with Crumbunny. Snarfblatter’s still two points behind.”
“I think adding the plunger is what threw me over the top,” Chris explained. “That dolphin easily could have won.”
“It was okay,” George said. “But I thought it looked more like a smelt than a dolphin.”
“Have you ever seen a smelt?” Chris asked George.
George shrugged. “Probably not,” he admitted. “I haven’t smelled a smelt, either.” Aaachoo! George sneezed. “I can’t actually smell anything with my nose all stuffed up,” he added. Aaachoo!
“Gesundheit,” Alex said. “You better get rid of that cold before tomorrow’s snowboarding event. You’re going to need all the breathing power you can get if you’re going to take your chicken-salad move to the next level.”
“Which is exactly what I’m going to have to do if I’m going to impress Dice Nieveson,” George said with a smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be okay. A little sniffle can’t take me down.”
“No, but that Carly kid could,” Alex told him honestly. “I saw her practicing this morning. She’s good.”
“I know,” George said. “That’s why I’m thinking about practicing some more after the snow-tubing race.”
“It’s you, Julianna, and Louie in that one, right?” Chris asked George.
Aachoo! George sneezed again. He wiped his nose with his jacket sleeve and nodded. “Yup.”
“You remember what I told you about how to get the best downward trajectory, right?” Alex asked him.
George nodded. “Keep my butt cheeks clenched and hold my arms straight out.”
“Exactly,” Alex said. “See you at the bottom.”
“Yeah,” Chris added. “We’ll be waiting for you.”
Just then, Sage shouted to George, “I won’t be waiting for you!”
George looked toward a nearby bench. Sage was sitting there, knitting something. Her fingers were moving fast. She had a big frown on her face.
“Excuse me?” George asked.
“I said, I won’t be waiting for you, George,” Sage told him. “I’m rooting for Julianna.” She knit a little faster.
George didn’t understand why Sage was calling him George instead of Georgie, but he sure wasn’t going to question it. “As long as someone from our team takes first place,” he told her, “I’m good with it.”
Just then, Louie appeared at the ski lift. At least George thought it was Louie. It was hard to tell behind the bright cherry-red puffy parka, canary-yellow helmet, orange knee and elbow pads, and big furry boots.
“I’m gonna kick your butt, George,” he said.
Oh yeah. That was Louie all right.
I take it back, George thought as he got on the lift. As long as Julianna or I take first place, I’m good with it. Just not Louie.
A few minutes later, George was sitting in a big rubber tube at the top of a hill. Louie was to the right of him. Julianna was to the left. Three Crumbunny kids were lined up in their tubes next to Julianna.
The Snarfblatter kids were the easiest to spot. They were all wearing neon-yellow-and-black scarves that read SNARFBLATTER BUMBLEBEES. Those scarves were pretty cool. But scarves didn’t win tubing races.
Knowing how to get the best downward trajectory was what won tubing races. And George knew exactly how to do that.
“On your marks,” the announcer said.
George clenched his butt cheeks tight.
“Get set.”
George reached his arms out straight.
And then . . . suddenly, George felt something bouncing around in his belly. Something bing-bongy. Something ping-pongy. Oh no! Not the burp. Not just as the race was about to begin.
Bing-bong! Ping-pong! Yes, now. Right now. Already the bubbles were leaping toward George’s larynx, and gaining ground on his gums . . .
George had to stop that burp from bursting out.
There was only one thing to do. George was going to have to spin those bubbles back down to his toes, like water swirling down a drain.
“GO!”
At the sound of the announcer’s voice, George started spinning around and around in his tube. Everything swirled and whirled inside him.
And then . . . the bubbles started to sink back down, away from George’s mouth! The bubbles slid down his throat, and hopped below his heart. It was working!
So George kept spinning. Around and around he went.
Bash! George’s tube spun out of control! He crashed into Louie’s tube. That sent Louie’s tube spinning around and around.
“Whoa!” Louie shouted. “I’m getting dizzy.”
Crash! Louie’s tube spun right into a girl from Crumbunny Elementary. Her tube began to spin. The Crumbunny kid bashed into the tube of a Snarfblatter student and sent him spinning—his bright neon scarf swirling around him as he twirled. Then that kid smashed into another Snarfblatter tuber.
Bash! Spin. Crash! Spin. Smash! Spin.
Tubes were crashing everywhere. Everyone was spinning!
But for George, the spinning was a good thing. With each spin, the bubbles swirled down toward his feet instead of up and out of his mouth. They tickled his thighs and needled his knees.
Spin! Spin! Spin!
“Somebody stop this thing!” Louie shouted as he spun around in his tube. “I’ll get you for this, George!” he added. “You’re gonna wish you never heard of tubing! WHOOOOAAAAA!”
Pop! Just then George felt something burst in his belly. It felt like a pin popping a balloon. All the air rushed out of him. George had squelched the belch!
“All right!” George cheered as his tube spun its way to the bottom of the hill.
Louie reached the bottom just behind him. “What are you cheering for?” Louie demanded. “It’s not like you won.”
George looked at Louie. His face looked green. His eyes were rolling around in his head.
George smiled. No, he hadn’t won the race. But he’d beaten Louie. And more importantly, he’d beaten the burp. There was only one word for that. V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!
“I could have won that race, if George hadn’t slammed into me,” Louie complained to his parents a few minutes later. “Let’s sue him, Dad!”
George stared at Louie. “You want to sue me because you lost a race?”
“No,” Louie told him. “I’m going to sue you
because I lost a race. And I’m going to sue for a lot, because losing that race could mean that I don’t win the five thousand dollars. My dad’s the best lawyer in the world. You’re gonna be sorry.”
“It wouldn’t be your five thousand dollars,” George corrected him. “If we win, that money will go to buy books for that school library in China.”
“Whatever,” Louie said. He turned to his father. “Sue him, Dad.”
Mr. Farley shook his head. “Sorry, son. You can’t sue someone because you lost a race.”
Louie looked hopefully at his mom. But she just shrugged and said, “I’m sorry, Loo Loo Poo.”
“No! No! No!” Louie shouted. He started jumping up and down like a giant three-year-old having a hissy fit.
Aaachooo! George sneezed. He wiped his nose with his glove. “What do you care, anyway?” he asked Louie. “Julianna came in first and got us the points. So we’re still in first place.”
“No, we’re not,” Sage interrupted. “Your pal Carly just won the luge race. Which means we’re still tied with Crumbunny.” She glared at George as she clicked her knitting needles together. “I told you she was the enemy.”
George started to answer Sage. But something ooey, gooey, and itchy got caught in his throat. He coughed. And coughed. And coughed again.
“You’re not sounding so good, son,” George’s dad said.
“I’m okay,” George assured him. “I’m just going to grab my snowboard and go practice.”
“Oh no, you aren’t.” His mother stopped him. “That cold is getting worse. You need a break from the snow. Let’s head into the lodge.”
George didn’t argue. He couldn’t. He was coughing too hard. So he followed his parents into the lodge. Cough cough cough.
