by Nancy Krulik
George laughed.
Aachoo!
And sneezed.
“Gesundheit,” Alex said.
“This cold stinks,” George said. “I sure would have liked to talk to Dice.”
“So talk to him,” Alex said.
George gave him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Only that you should talk to him.” Alex pointed to the doorway of George’s hotel room. “He’s standing right there.”
Whoa! George climbed out of bed and peeked his head around the corner of the room. He looked toward the doorway. He rubbed his eyes. He looked again.
It was true! Dice Nieveson, world-champion snowboarder, was standing right there. He was still wearing his ski jacket and carrying his snowboard. And he was whispering something to George’s parents.
Gulp. George opened his mouth. He tried to speak. But words wouldn’t come out. Finally, he exclaimed, “Dice Nieveson! Do you know who you are?”
Dice stared at George for a minute.
George groaned. Oh man. That was the dumbest thing anyone had said to anyone ever. And he’d said it to Dice Nieveson.
“I mean, it’s nice to meet you,” George added quickly.
Dice grinned. “I’m really psyched to meet you, too, George,” he said.
“You’re psyched to meet me?” George asked.
“Definitely,” Dice said. “I wanted to meet the guy who taught Alex how to do that awesome chicken salad. That’s a hard move to do, but it’s even harder to teach. You must be an amazing snowboarder.”
“Um . . . well . . . ,” George stammered. He didn’t know what to say to that.
“He is,” Alex said. “The best in the whole school. It’s too bad you didn’t get to see him on the slopes.”
“Well, maybe I will someday,” Dice said. “And when I do, I hope you’ll be using this board.” He handed George the snowboard he’d been carrying.
“Is this your board?” George asked.
Dice nodded. “It’s from my new line of snowboards. They’re not even in stores yet. You’re the first kid to have one. And I autographed it for you.”
George rubbed his finger gently over the smooth board. He couldn’t believe it. “I’ll be able to do some amazing stunts with this,” George said. “I might even try a bloody Dracula!”
He jumped out of bed, planted his feet on the snowboard, and then reached down to grip the tail of the board with both hands, just like he would if he were really snowboarding.
“That’s gotta be a really tough move,” Alex said.
“Oh yeah,” Dice agreed. “The bloody Dracula has some real bite.”
George and Alex laughed.
“But right now, I think you should try a tissue, George,” Dice suggested.
“A tissue?” George asked. “What kind of snowboarding move is that?”
“It’s not a move,” Dice said. “It’s a tissue. Your nose is dripping, dude. And I gotta say, it’s kind of gross.”
George reached over and grabbed a tissue from the box on the dresser. As soon as he got better, he was taking his new board out on the slopes and coming up with a new move. He wasn’t sure what the stunt would look like, but he sure knew what he was going to call it—the runny nose!
“Five thousand dollars!” George exclaimed a few hours later. “That’s going to buy a lot of books.” He plopped down on the couch in the lobby of the lodge.
“We are the champions!” Julianna added. “And, boy, did we earn it. I’m still sore from that cross-country ski event.”
“Me too,” Chris added. “That took forever.”
“But you still managed to come in third,” Julianna told him. “And every point we earned helped push us over the top.”
“I still can’t believe how fast this weekend went,” Alex said. “One minute we were checking in, and the next we’re checking out.”
“Checking out with a check,” George added happily. “A big check.” He looked over at the reception desk. The Edith B. Sugarman parents and Mrs. Kelly were smiling. Everyone from school was in a good mood.
Well, everyone but Louie, anyway.
“It’s not fair that George got a free snowboard,” Louie complained to his parents. “He didn’t even compete in the snowboarding contest.”
“Don’t worry, Loo Loo Poo,” Mrs. Farley told him. “We’ll buy you a new snowboard as soon as we get home.”
“Yeah, but it won’t have an autograph on it,” Louie insisted. “George got an autograph. And he gets to be the first kid to have Dice’s new board. I heard him bragging about it.” Louie turned and glared at George. “Being a bragger isn’t cool,” he added.
George rolled his eyes. “Takes one to know one,” he muttered.
“All I can say is that if Dice Nieveson wears a yellow helmet in his next competition, I’m gonna sue him,” Louie said. “The yellow helmet is my thing.”
“That’s good. Because snowboarding sure isn’t,” George joked.
Just then, Sage burst into the lobby and ran over to where the others were sitting.
“Georgie!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better!”
Uh-oh. Sage was back to calling him Georgie. That wasn’t a good sign.
“You were our secret weapon!” Sage told George.
“He was?” Louie asked her. “How? He didn’t win anything. All he did was sneeze, cough, and barf all weekend.”
“Exactly,” Sage said. “That was Georgie’s plan all along.”
“Huh?” Louie asked.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Mike said.
“Me either,” Max agreed.
“Well, of course you don’t,” Louie said. “If I don’t get it, you two sure couldn’t.”
“That’s true,” Mike agreed.
“Right again, Louie,” Max said.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about, either,” George admitted.
“I knew you weren’t a traitor,” Sage told him. “You were only hanging around with Carly so you could get her sick. That way she couldn’t compete in the snowboarding competition.”
“That’s a pretty slick trick,” Julianna said.
“Yeah, it would be,” George said. “If I’d done it. But I wasn’t trying to get her sick. I wouldn’t do that to anyone.”
“Oh, Georgie, you’re too modest,” Sage said. She opened the big shopping bag she’d been carrying. “Here. This is a present for you.”
George looked at the giant mound of blue wool Sage pulled from her bag. “What is it?” he asked her.
“It’s an afghan,” Sage said.
“Oh,” George said. “I repeat, what is it?”
“An afghan is a wool blanket, silly,” Sage explained. She opened the giant blanket and placed it on top of George. “It’ll keep you warm while you’re sick.”
George glanced down at the big blanket. Sage sure had done a lot of knitting. It was pretty good, too.
“And look at this.” Sage pointed to the big pink heart in the middle of the blanket. “That’s how you know it was made with love,” she said.
For a minute, George thought he was going to barf again.
“Nice blankie, Georgie,” Louie teased him. He looked over at Max and Mike. “Don’t you guys think so?”
“It does look warm,” Max said.
“And it’s really big,” Mike added.
Louie glared at them.
Just then, George’s mom walked over and wrapped her arm around Sage. “Wow,” she said. “That turned out great.” She looked at George. “Did you thank Sage?” she asked.
For what? George wondered. Embarrassing him in front of all his friends? But of course, he didn’t say that. Instead, George just mumbled, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Georgie,” S
age said. “Anything for you.” She turned to George’s mom. “I think I want to knit a sweater next. Do you think you could help me?”
“Sure,” George’s mom said. “I actually have a book of patterns in my suitcase. Let’s go look at it while we wait for the bus to arrive.”
“Great!” Sage exclaimed.
As his mom and Sage walked away, George sank down deeper into the couch. He wrapped his arms around his stomach.
“Do you feel barfy again, dude?” Alex whispered to him. “Because Sage can definitely have that effect on a guy.”
George shook his head. What he was feeling was a lot worse than barfy. George was feeling bubbles. Hundreds of ’em. And they were all bouncing around in the bottom of his belly.
George was afraid to open his mouth. If he did, those bubbles might burst out. And if they did, there was no telling what trouble they could get George into. So instead, George began rubbing his belly and tapping his head.
“Uh-oh. It’s back?” Alex asked.
Bing-bong. Ping-pong. Oh yeah. The burp was back. And it was on the move. Right now the bubbles were tip-toeing up George’s trachea and tickling his tonsils.
George nodded—and kept rubbing and tapping.
“Because that’s not really the signal,” Alex continued. “You’re actually supposed to tap your belly and rub your head.”
George’s eyes bulged. He zipped his lips tight, trying to keep the burp from bursting out of him.
“Never mind,” Alex said. “We gotta get you outta here!”
And with that he grabbed George by the arm and yanked him through the lodge lobby and out into the snow. And just in time. Because right then . . .
George let out a giant super burp. A burp so loud, a group of people who were up in the air on the ski lift looked down to see what that noise was.
“George, what are you doing?” his mother shouted as she came running out to the yard. “You know you’re not supposed to be out playing in the snow. You might be feeling better, but you’re still sick.”
Sure, George knew he wasn’t supposed to be out playing in the snow. But the burp didn’t know that. And the burp was the one in charge.
Right now, what the burp wanted was to have a snowball fight. The next thing George knew, his hands were picking up snow and molding it into a ball. Then they threw the ball—right at the Farley family limousine, which had just pulled up in front of the lodge.
“Dude!” Alex said. “You can’t do that. The Farleys will freak.”
No one can tell a burp that it can’t. Burps can. And they do. To prove it, the burp made George throw another snowball at the car.
“Hey! Why are you throwing snowballs at our very expensive stretch limo?” Louie demanded as he ran out of the lodge and into the snow.
George didn’t answer. Instead, the burp made George throw a snowball at Louie. Smack! It got him right on his head!
“You’re going to be sorry you did that!” Louie told George.
George braced himself for Louie to throw a snowball back at him. But instead, Louie turned and called to Max and Mike.
“You guys go get him,” he said. “I’m not wearing my waterproof gloves. I can’t risk getting frostbite. It would ruin my guitar playing.”
Max and Mike dove into action. They raced out into the snow and made snowballs. Then they threw them at George.
But the burp was quick. The next thing he knew, George was leaping in the air, dodging from side to side, trying to avoid the flying snowballs.
“What are you doing?” Sage shouted as she raced out of the lobby. “My Georgie is sick. You can’t throw snowballs at him.”
George made another snowball. He threw it with all his might.
Splat. The snowball hit Sage in the belly.
“Oh, Georgie,” she said. “You’re so sick, you can’t even aim. I know that was meant for Max and Mike.”
George had no idea who that snowball had been aimed for. He wasn’t the one who was aiming it. The burp was.
Sage picked up a huge mound of snow. She threw it at Max.
Max ducked. The snowball hit Louie right in the rear end.
“Hey!” Louie shouted. “Who did that?”
“I don’t know who did that,” Alex said. “But I’m doing this.” And with that he threw another snowball at Louie.
“Not funny, Alex,” Louie said. “I could sue you for that.”
“For what?” Alex asked. “Your evidence already melted. You just have a big, wet rear end. And there are a million ways that could have happened.”
Aachoo! Aachoo! Aachoo!
Just then George heard someone sneezing behind him. He turned his head slightly and saw Carly sneezing her way up the path! Aachoo!
Slam! Carly dumped a big pile of snow on top of George’s head. “That’s for getting me sick,” she said.
George wanted to tell her that he hadn’t done that on purpose. But the burp didn’t feel like talking. It felt like throwing another snowball.
Carly laughed as the wet snow dripped down her face. She threw a snowball back at George.
A moment later, a swarm of Snarfblatter Bumblebees, all in their yellow-and-black scarves, came running outside. They scooped up snowballs and started throwing them at the kids from Crumbunny and Sugarman. The kids from Crumbunny and Sugarman returned fire.
The super burp had started a full-fledged fourth-grade snowball fight in front of the lodge!
Julianna threw a snowball at Chris. He threw one back, but missed and hit Mike instead. So Mike threw a snowball at Chris, except he hit Sage.
Sage threw a snowball. She tried to reach Mike, but she had lousy aim. The snowball was heading right for George!
George leaped up in the air and grabbed on to a big tree limb. He hung there for a minute, with his legs swinging back and forth. Whoosh! A blizzard of white snow fell from the tree—and landed on Louie’s head.
“Hey, cut that out,” Louie shouted. “I’m not wearing my ski cap. You’re getting my hair all wet.”
George’s fingers slipped from the tree branch. He landed in the snow with a plop.
Pop! Just then, George felt something burst in the bottom of his belly. All the air rushed out of him. The magical super burp was gone.
Aachooo! But George’s cold was still there.
“You see?” George’s mother said. “I told you that you were still sick. Now get inside and dry off by the fire until the bus comes. What were you thinking, starting a big snowball fight like that? I just don’t know what gets into you sometimes.”
George knew it wasn’t what got into him that always got him in trouble. It was what slipped out of him—the giant super burps.
Aachoo! George sneezed again.
His mom was right. He probably shouldn’t have gone out in the snow. But it was worth it. That had been one great snowball fight! The burp hadn’t actually done anything so bad.
Besides, George was kind of glad he got to play in the snow one more time. Because pretty soon it would be spring. And no one could predict what kind of trouble a springtime super burp could cause!
About the Author
Nancy Krulik is the author of more than 150 books for children and young adults including three New York Times Best Sellers and the popular Katie Kazoo, Switcheroo books. She lives in New York City with her family, and many of George Brown’s escapades are based on things her own kids have done. (No one delivers a good burp quite like Nancy’s son, Ian!) Nancy’s favorite thing to do is laugh, which comes in pretty handy when you’re trying to write funny books! You can follow Nancy on Twitter: @NancyKrulik.
About the Illustrator
Aaron Blecha was raised by a school of giant squid in Wisconsin and now lives with his family by the south English seaside. He works as an artist designing funny characters and illustrati
ng humorous books, including the one you’re holding. You can enjoy more of his weird creations at www.monstersquid.com.
Looking for more?
Visit Penguin.com for more about this author and a complete list of their books.
Discover your next great read!
