Dribble, Dribble, Drool!

by Nancy Krulik

  “That’s awesome!” Julianna said. “My mom and dad are out of town again. This way I’ll at least be able to show them some photos of the game.”

  “It would be great if you could take some pictures of . . . ,” Alex began.

  But George didn’t listen to the rest of his sentence. He just walked away. George didn’t want to hear anything Alex the Snitch had to say.

  Weeeeep. Just then the referee blew his high-pitched whistle. The game was about to begin.

  As the Legal Eagles ran onto the court, Louie stopped and shot George a mean smile.

  “I want an orange soda to be waiting for me after we win the game,” he said.

  “And it better be cold.”

  George gulped. If his team didn’t win, this was going to be longest week of his life.

  “Don’t worry, George,” Julianna called over. “We’ve got this.”

  Weeeep! The ref blew his whistle again and tossed the basketball in the air. Julianna and the Legal Eagle’s center both jumped up.

  Slam. Julianna got the tip-off and hit the ball over toward Alex.

  Phew. Julianna really was on fire. Maybe the Ferrets could win this one, after all.

  “Aaaachooo!” Suddenly, Paulie Wurmer let out a huge sneeze. He wiped the wet boogers on his hand, and picked the inside of his nose.

  George frowned. Then again, maybe not.

  Click! Click! Click!

  George snapped three quick shots of Julianna as she leaped up and shot the ball right into the basket. He couldn’t believe how high Julianna could jump. It was like she had pogo sticks on the bottoms of her high-tops.

  Still, the shot was only worth two points. Which meant that the Ferrets were still two points behind the Legal Eagles. And with only a minute left to go in the second half, that was not a good sign.

  Click! Click!

  George raced around to the other side of the court and snapped a few shots of some of his other teammates. Well, most of them, anyway. He didn’t take any pictures of Alex.

  Swoop! Just then, Julianna swiped the ball away from one of the Legal Eagles. She dribbled back down the court and stopped, right in the three-point range. She took the ball in her hands, reached up, and shot!

  Smack!

  The ball bounced off the backboard.

  Whoosh! It slid right through the basket.

  “Yes!” Julianna shouted. She leaped up into the air and pumped her fist.

  George started jumping up and down, too. The Ferrets were leading by a point. And there were only thirty seconds left in the game. Which meant it was only thirty seconds until Louie became his butler.

  George started to think of all the things he could make Louie do for him. Like clean his room, or carry his books, or . . .

  “It’s not over yet,” Louie shouted, interrupting George’s thoughts. “I’ve got the ball now.”

  George gulped. Louie was really moving down the court. He was dribbling as hard and as fast as he possibly could.

  But the clock was already counting down the last eight seconds.

  George followed Louie around the edge of the court, his camera in hand.

  Julianna charged toward Louie, trying to steal the ball away from him.

  Louie swerved around Julianna. He dribbled to the far corner of the court. Then he turned. And shot.

  Click.

  George took a photo of Louie as he shot the ball. He wanted to make sure he had a great picture of Louie missing the basket—and losing the game for his team.

  Everyone stared at the ball as it flew through the air.

  Uh-oh.

  George gulped. The ball was going right for the net. Louie might actually sink this one.

  Slam! The ball hit the backboard.

  Swirl! It whirled around and around on the rim. The ball teetered toward the outer edge. And then . . .

  Swish! The ball went right through the net.

  George got a sick feeling in his stomach.

  Buzzz! The buzzer sounded. The game was over.

  “WOO-HOO!” the Legal Eagles began to cheer.

  Louie cheered the loudest. “WE WON!” he shouted.

  George couldn’t believe it. This was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare. But there was nothing he could do about it.

  George started walking slowly back to the bench. He figured he had better put his camera back in the case now. Louie was going to have plenty for him to do. George wasn’t going to have any time to take postgame pictures.

  “LEGAL EAGLES RULE!” the team shouted again.

  The Legal Eagles were still cheering. That probably meant George had a few minutes before he had to get Louie that cold orange soda. So he started looking at the photos he’d taken during the game.

  There was one of Nick scoring on a free throw.

  One of Stan dribbling down the court.

  One of Paulie picking his nose.

  One of Julianna making the three-pointer.

  And one of Louie taking that last game-winning shot.

  Hey! Wait a minute. That doesn’t look right.

  Quickly, George zoomed in on the photo of Louie. He wanted to see the details close up.

  Normally, there was no way George would spend this much time looking at a photo of Louie. In fact, any other time, he would have scrolled right past it.

  But this photo of Louie meant everything. It meant the entire game.

  “That last shot was out of bounds!” George shouted really, really loud. “It doesn’t count.”

  The Eagles stopped cheering.

  The gym got quiet.

  Everyone looked at George.

  “Forget it,” Louie told him. “We won the game. You lost the bet. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Now be a good butler and get me my orange soda.”

  “No, we won,” George insisted. “Look. Your foot was out of bounds when you took the shot.”

  The referee came running over. “Let me see that,” he said.

  George handed him the camera. He pointed to the line on the ground. Louie’s left sneaker was clearly on the outside of the line.

  “See?” George asked the ref. He pointed to the bottom of the photo, where Louie’s left foot was clearly over the line. “That basket doesn’t count.”

  “How do we know that shot is my last basket?” Louie said. “You could have taken that photo any time.”

  “Nope,” George said. He scrolled back on the camera. “The picture I took right before that is Julianna’s three-pointer. She only made one of those the whole game. Just before you took your shot. Your only shot the whole second half.”

  Louie’s face turned beet red. His eyes opened wide. He was so mad, he couldn’t speak.

  But that didn’t matter. Because at just that moment, Louie’s mother came racing out of the bleachers and onto the court. And she had plenty to say.

  “Don’t tell me you’re not going to count my Loo Loo Poo’s basket!” she shouted at the ref.

  “It appears he was out of bounds when he shot, Mrs. Farley,” the referee tried to explain to her. “It’s right here in this boy’s photo.”

  Mrs. Farley glared at George. “Not you again,” she said. “You’re always causing trouble for my Loo Loo Poo.”

  George choked back a laugh. Loo Loo Poo. That was hilarious. And it never got old.

  Mrs. Farley turned back to the referee. “Since when are referees allowed to look at photographs to make their rulings?” she demanded.

  Alex walked over carrying a small, thin booklet in his hands.

  George frowned. Was Alex going to put him on report for taking pictures now?

  “Actually, Mrs. Farley,” Alex said, “there’s no rule against using photos. I have a copy of the Beaver Brook Junior Basketball League rule book right here. So I guess it�
��s up to the referee to decide whether he wants to use this picture or not.”

  Alex smiled at George. George smiled back at him. For once, Alex’s obsession with rules might actually come in handy.

  “Well, that settles it then,” Mrs. Farley said. “Loo Loo Poo’s team wins. Because no one ever rules against a Farley.”

  George frowned. Louie did get away with a lot of stuff. Which meant . . .

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Farley,” the ref said. “But I am ruling against Louie. Which means the Ferrets have won the game!”

  “WOOOO-HOOOOOO!” Julianna shouted. “WE WON!”

  The other Ferrets began to cheer. “We’ve got Ferret Fever! We’ve got Ferret Fever!”

  “You did it, George! You won the game for us!” Alex said. He slapped him on the back.

  “It never would have happened if you didn’t have that rule book with you,” George said.

  “They gave us each one of them when we got our uniforms,” Alex said. “Didn’t you read yours?”

  George shook his head. “Who reads rule books?”

  “I do,” Alex said. “Sometimes rules really come in handy.”

  George looked over at Louie. His face was purple red. Little beads of angry sweat were forming on his forehead and his nose.

  George grinned. This is going to be fun.

  “Oh, butler!” George shouted over to Louie. “I’ve got a few jobs for you!”

  “Where’s your safety monitor sash?” George asked Alex early Monday morning as the boys walked to school together.

  “In my backpack,” Alex said. “I’m going to turn it in to the office at school.”

  “You’re not going to be a safety monitor anymore?” George asked him.

  Alex shook his head. “It’s not worth it,” he said. “Everyone in school hates me because I’m the safety monitor who follows all the rules. And I would hate myself if I was a safety monitor and I didn’t follow all the rules. So it’s easier to just not be a safety monitor.”

  “Makes sense,” George said. He grinned. “Now you have more time to hang around with Chris and me.”

  “And more time to help you figure out a cure for the you-know-what,” Alex said.

  George nodded. But he didn’t answer Alex. He couldn’t. Not while there was so much going on down inside his belly.

  Grumble. Rumble.

  George stood there waiting for the bubbles to start moving up toward his mouth.

  But they didn’t. In fact, there weren’t any bubbles in his belly at all. George’s belly was completely empty—and hungry. George had gotten up late and only had time for a quick glass of orange juice.

  “Oh, Louie,” George called out. “Be a good butler and get my emergency chocolate bar out of my backpack.”

  Louie had been following George and Alex the whole way to school. He was carrying George’s backpack for him. It was one of his new butler duties.

  George waited as Louie dug around for the chocolate bar George had shoved into his bag the night before.

  “Gross,” Louie said. “It’s all melted.”

  “I must have left my backpack over the heater in my room again last night,” George said. “That’s okay. Chocolate tastes better when it’s melted.”

  Louie handed George the chocolate bar. George opened the wrapper and took a bite of the gooey chocolate.

  “Delicious!” George said. Melted chocolate oozed out of his mouth and down his chin. “Napkin, please,” he said to his butler.

  Louie mumbled something angrily to himself. Then he pulled some tissues out of his pocket.

  “These will have to do.” George took the tissues and wiped his face. He looked down. Some of the chocolate had run down his chin and onto his shirt. “I can’t go to school like this,” he said to Louie. “Switch shirts with me.”

  “Are you nuts?” Louie said. “Why would I want to wear a T-shirt that says ‘Furstman’s Pet Shop’? I don’t work there. You do. I don’t work anywhere.”

  “This week you work for me, remember?” George said.

  Louie frowned. He was fuming. But he took off his coat and his shirt.

  George did the same thing. Then the boys switched shirts.

  Louie buttoned his coat and crossed his arms across his chest so no one could see he was wearing George’s shirt.

  “How long are you gonna keep this up?” Alex asked George as the boys continued walking to school.

  “I don’t know. A little while,” George said. “But not a whole week. I can’t stand having Louie this close to me for that long. I’ll get rid of him soon.”

  George wished getting rid of the magical super burp could be as easy as getting rid of Louie. But he knew that wasn’t the case. The burp had made itself at home in George’s belly. And it was bound to burst out of him again.

  He didn’t know when.

  He didn’t know where.

  The only thing George knew for sure was that when those bubbles burst out, trouble was sure to follow.

  Bubble trouble. Which was the worst kind.

  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.

  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 illustrating humorous books, including the one you’re holding. You can enjoy more of his weird creations at www.monstersquid.com.

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