The Heinie Prize Page 2

  “Have you ever seen him eat soup?” Crench asked. “Most of it goes up his nose!”

  “They don’t give the Heinie Prize for nose picking!” Feenman said.

  “He sucks his thumb. He sleeps with a blankie!” Crench exclaimed. “He picks scabs off his knees and eats them!”

  “You guys are just jealous,” I said. “You know that Belzer is outstanding! When his parents learn that he has won the Heinie…”

  “But, Bernie—did you forget? YOU want that prize!” Crench said. “If you win, you’ll be King of the Campus. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”

  “Forget about me,” I told them. “I don’t count. I’ve gotta take care of my friend Belzer. I always take good care of my guys.”

  I grabbed the candy bar from Crench’s hand. I stuffed it into my mouth and gobbled it up.

  “Hey! Why’d you do that?” Crench shouted.

  “It’s not good for you,” I said. Munch munch. “See? That’s how I take care of you guys! I watch out for your health. But do you appreciate it? No.”

  “Mrs. Heinie doesn’t like Belzer,” Feenman said. “She told him he wasn’t born. He slithered out from under a rock.”

  “She told him he has the IQ of an egg,” Crench said. “But not as much personality.”

  “She was teasing him,” I said. “You know her wonderful sense of humor.”

  “She doesn’t have a sense of humor,” Feenman said. “She said that Belzer was lower than the wart on the bottom of her foot.”

  “Well, we all have room for improvement,” I said. “We’ll just have to show Mrs. H. the truth about Belzer.”

  “The truth?” Crench asked. “What’s the truth?”

  “That Belzer is the MAN,” I said. “The main DUDE. That Belzer is a genius. A brilliant student. A perfect citizen.”

  The two of them just stared at me with their mouths hanging open. They didn’t know what to say.

  I waved them to the door. “Hurry. Go get him,” I said. “No. Wait. Let him finish my laundry. Then bring him in here!”

  Chapter 7

  A HIGH FEVER?

  An hour later they brought Belzer into my room. He dropped the tall stack of clean clothes on my bed. “I used a fabric softener for your boxer shorts, Bernie,” he said. “So they’ll be feathery soft the way you like them.”

  Feenman and Crench started to giggle.

  “Shut up,” I said. “Can I help it if I have sensitive skin?”

  I turned to Belzer and put a hand on his shoulder. “Say good-bye to the old Belzer,” I said.

  He blinked. “Huh?”

  “The new Belzer is born today,” I told him. “We’re going to keep you here in Rotten School. We’re gonna make you Outstanding Student and Outstanding Citizen. You’re gonna win the Heinie Prize!”

  His mouth dropped open. He burped.

  “Are you sure about this, Bernie?” Feenman said.

  I closed Belzer’s mouth for him. “We’ll shape this guy up in no time,” I said. I pulled a fat bug from his hair. “The dude is outstanding on the inside. We just have to bring the inside outside!”

  Belzer blinked again. “Turn me inside out? Won’t that hurt?”

  “We’ll start with his clothes,” I said. “Belzer, what’s this T-shirt you’re wearing under your school blazer? Let me see what it says.”

  I pulled the blazer open and read the T-shirt:

  I tossed my hands into the air. “It’s hopeless!” I sighed. “Totally hopeless!”

  I heard the click of shoes in the hall. Mrs. Heinie poked her head into the room. She squinted at me. “What’s hopeless, Bernie?” she demanded.

  “Uh…trying to keep up with Belzer,” I said. “He’s so brilliant and outstanding, the rest of us can’t keep up with him. It’s hopeless.”

  “Go lie down, Bernie,” Mrs. Heinie said. “I’ll get two aspirins for you. You must be running a high fever.”

  She hurried away.

  Feenman and Crench shook their heads. “This isn’t going to work,” Crench said. “No way Belzer can win that prize.”

  I pressed my hand over his mouth. “Don’t say that,” I said. “You know my motto: ‘Never Give Up!’ Did I give up when we had to paddle that rubber raft over the raging whitewater falls?”

  “Bernie, that was a video game,” Crench said.

  “But I didn’t give up!” I exclaimed. “And I’m not giving up on my pal Belzer. He can be outstanding. I know he can.”

  I turned to Belzer. He was cleaning the front of his LOSER T-shirt, wiping it with both hands. “I just burped up some of my dinner,” he said. “I hate when that happens!”

  Chapter 8

  A FLESH-EATING DISEASE

  How could I convince Mrs. Heinie that the biggest loser in the fourth grade should win the Most Outstanding prize? This was a tough job, even for Bernie B.

  And it was even tougher because Sherman Oaks wanted the Heinie Prize so badly. I knew that Sherman was the only other kid who had a chance.

  The next morning, I ran into Mrs. Heinie downstairs in the Rotten House Commons Room. She was holding a bouquet of purple flowers.

  “Aren’t these lovely?” she gushed, giving them a big, noisy sniff. “A dozen purple tulips. My favorite!”

  “Where did you get them?” I asked.

  “Sherman Oaks gave them to me,” she said. “He sends me flowers every morning. As a bribe. He’s bribing me to give him the Heinie Prize.”

  I snickered. “Of course it isn’t working,” I said. “Bribing you—how ridiculous!”

  “Yes, it’s definitely working,” Mrs. H. replied. “I love flowers. Sherman is number one!” She took another big sniff and inhaled an entire tulip.

  “Did you say those were purple tulips?” I said. “Oh, no! Didn’t you hear about Purple Tulip Fever? It’s a flesh-eating disease you catch by touching purple tulips. I saw it on TV. It spreads over your entire body and eats your skin away.”

  “HUH—?” Mrs. Heinie let out a scream. She heaved the flowers into a trash can. “I’d better go wash! Thanks for the warning, Bernie!”

  “No problem,” I said. I watched her race up the stairs.

  Score one for Bernie B. But I still had my hands full. How could Belzer compete with Sherman and his bribes?

  That night, I went to work….

  Chapter 9

  BERNIE THE SLAVE

  That night in my room, I slid my arm around Belzer’s shoulders. “A few lessons from Bernie B.,” I said, “and you’ll be almost as brilliant, outstanding, and awesome as I am!”

  Belzer grinned his lopsided grin at me. “I’m ready,” he said. He started to pant like a dog.

  “We’ll start with your wardrobe,” I said.

  “I don’t have a robe,” Belzer replied.

  “Your clothes,” I said. “Let’s check out your clothes.” I led him into the tiny room across the hall that he shares with Feenman and Crench. The three of them insisted on sharing a room so that I could have my own room. They know I need a lot of space for planning and scheming.

  Feenman and Crench sleep in a bunk bed. Belzer has a little cot over the air vent.

  Feenman and Crench sat down to watch us. Crench picked up a couple of hot dog–shaped balloons and started to let the air out of them slowly. His hobby is making disgusting noises with balloons—and he’s very good at it. We have a bunch of talented guys in our dorm. Too bad Belzer isn’t one of them.

  “What’s that pile over there?” I asked, pointing.

  “My T-shirts,” Belzer said.

  “You need plain white shirts to go with your school uniform,” I said. “Let’s see what you have here….” I started sifting through his T-shirts, reading what they said:

  PLEASE DON’T HURT ME

  I NEED MEDICATION

  WELCOME TO THE PLANET LOSER DON’T BLAME ME—I WAS BORN LIKE THIS “These are all loser T-shirts,” I said.

  Belzer squinted at them. “Really? Do you think so?”

 
; “Get rid of them,” I ordered. “You have to wear plain white shirts. And always wear your school tie. You have to look sharp from now on. And what’s that mountain of smelly rags?” I pointed again.

  “The rest of my clothes,” Belzer said. “After I do your laundry, there’s no time to do mine.”

  I stared at the pile. “When’s the last time you did your laundry?”

  “Never?” Belzer replied.

  “Gloves!” I called to Feenman and Crench. “Quick!” I held up my hands. “Glove me.”

  Feenman pulled a pair of rubber gloves over my hands. Then I bent down and started picking through the smelly, stained shirts and pants.

  “WHOA—!” I let out a startled cry as rats and fat, brown bugs came stampeding out from under the pile.

  “Ooh, gross!” Feenman cried. He and Crench went running from the room.

  The rats and bugs streamed after them into the hall.

  “Okay, pick it all up and follow me,” I told Belzer.

  He scratched his hair. “Where are we going?”

  “To the laundry room,” I said. “I’m going to do your laundry.”

  His eyes bulged. “You are going to do my laundry?”

  “I’m your slave now, Belzer,” I said. “I’m going to do everything for you—until you win the Heinie.”

  “My slave?” Belzer said, rubbing his chins. “Okay, slave. Go get me a Foamy Root Beer.”

  “Don’t get cute,” I said. I brushed away a tangle of fat, brown bugs from one of his sweaters, and we headed to the laundry room.

  Chapter 10

  MRS. H. HAS A GOOD LAUGH

  The laundry room is in the basement of the Student Center. I stepped in and saw two long rows of gleaming, white washers and dryers. Kids from all three dorms do their own laundry here.

  Of course, I’d never been near the laundry room. But how hard could it be to work the machines? Not hard at all if you’re a genius like someone I know—namely me.

  I pulled on a double layer of rubber gloves. I didn’t want to catch any germs from Belzer’s clothes. It took only a few minutes to toss the stuff into different machines, soap them up, and get them rolling.

  Belzer stood in the doorway, shaking his head and muttering to himself. He couldn’t believe that Bernie B. was working for him.

  But I had no choice. I had to get him cleaned up. No way he could be Most Outstanding Fourth Grader with bugs crawling up and down his sleeves.

  Time dragged by. I tried to get a poker game going. But there were only two other kids in the laundry room—third graders—and I’d already won all their money.

  The washers stopped spinning. I pulled the clean clothes out and stuffed them into dryers. This was a piece of cake.

  I tried to picture a clean Belzer. But even I don’t have that good an imagination!

  “Hey, Bernie,” Belzer called, glancing all around. “Where’s all my underwear?”

  “Take it easy, Belzer,” I said. “It’s in that little dryer over there.” I pointed.

  “That’s not a dryer!” Belzer cried. “It’s a microwave oven. For snacks while you wait for your laundry.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Well, guess what? I just microwaved your underpants. It has to be an improvement—right?”

  Belzer let out a groan and pulled open the microwave door. Steam poured out. His underpants were soft and stuck together, like a pile of mashed potatoes.

  Okay. So no one’s perfect.

  I saw Wes Updood come in, so I hurried over to say hi. Wes Updood is Sherman Oaks’s friend. But that doesn’t stop him from being the coolest guy at Rotten School.

  He’s so totally beyond cool, no one ever knows what he’s talking about. And, dude, does Wes know style! Tonight he had his baggy jeans on backward. And he wore a black vest over his bare chest, also backward. It took me a while to tell which way he was going!

  “What’s up, Wes?” I called.

  He nodded. “Chocolate cupcakes, man,” he said. “With the cream filling. Heat ’em and eat ’em—know where I’m comin’ from?”

  “Well…yeah,” I said. “Heat ’em and eat ’em. I know.”

  “Montreal, man,” he said. We touched knuckles. “Montreal, all day long! No way? Way!”

  “Way,” I agreed.

  What was he TALKING about??

  “It’s the new white meat, right?” He giggled. Like that was a funny joke.

  Then he started to back up to the door. Or maybe he was going forward. I couldn’t tell.

  “Montreal, everybody!” he called, waving to me. “Montreal till you drop!”

  He vanished out the door. I turned—and let out a shout.

  Belzer had his head stuck in a dryer door!

  How was that possible?

  I dove across the room. Grabbed Belzer by the shoulders and started to tug.

  But before I could pull him out, who should step up behind us? Five guesses—and they’re all Mrs. Heinie.

  Her eyes bulged from behind her thick glasses. She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Bernie—!” she cried. “What on earth is happening here?”

  I turned away from Belzer and gave her my best, dimpled grin. “Do you see this, Mrs. Heinie?” I said. “Do you see what this brilliant kid is doing?” I slapped Belzer on the back.

  Mrs. Heinie squinted harder.

  “Belzer is such an outstanding citizen,” I said. “He’s watching the inside of the dryer to make sure it doesn’t catch fire.”

  I wiped a tear from my eye. “What a guy,” I said. “He only cares about the safety of others. Genius!”

  Mrs. Heinie frowned at me. “Pull him out,” she said. “The genius has turned blue. He isn’t breathing.”

  I tugged Belzer out of the dryer. Then I jumped up and down on his chest to get him breathing again.

  He picked up his head. His eyes rolled around. “Montreal?” he moaned. He dropped down on the linoleum.

  Mrs. Heinie shook her head. “Can the genius stand up?”

  “Of course he can,” I said. “But he’s inspecting the floor for cracks. That’s how much he cares about student safety.”

  Mrs. H. let out a groan. She started to leave, but I chased after her.

  “I know you’re thinking about Belzer for the Heinie Prize,” I said. “And I think you’ve made a good choice.”

  We heard a choking sound. We both watched Belzer cough up a sock.

  Mrs. Heinie stomped out, laughing at the top of her lungs. “The Heinie Prize for Belzer?” she cried. And then she laughed even harder.

  “I put the idea in her head,” I said. “That’s the first step, Belzer. She’s thinking about you now.”

  “Montreal,” he moaned.

  I pulled him to his feet. Then I had a brilliant idea.

  “Belzer,” I said, “stay here and wash all your clothes. Everything you own. Don’t leave until everything is clean.”

  “Everything?” he murmured.

  “Everything,” I said. “I’m going to help you, Belzer. You’ll see!”

  I hurried away to find Flora and Fauna, the Peevish twins.

  Chapter 11

  WHY THE TWINS SCREAMED

  I hurried to the girls’ dorm to find Flora Peevish and her twin sister, Fauna. They hang out a lot with Sherman Oaks, but I didn’t care about that tonight. I was desperate.

  I found them in their dorm’s Commons Room watching Japanese sumo wrestling on TV with a bunch of other girls. The girls were all jumping up and down on the couches, cheering and shouting.

  The Peevish twins are kinda cute. They’re short and thin and have straight, brown hair, brown eyes, and tiny, turned-up noses that look like elf noses.

  They’re identical twins and they share their clothes. The only way to tell them apart is to ask them who they are.

  One of them gave me a nice greeting: “Beat it. No boys!”

  I pointed to the huge dudes in diapers wrestling on TV. “How can you watch those guys?” I asked.

  “We think th
ey’re cute,” she answered.

  “Awesome,” I said. “You know Belzer, right? You think he’s cute, too?”

  She stuck her finger down her throat and gagged herself.

  “Is that a yes or a no?” I asked.

  “Ucccck,” her sister said.

  One of the fat wrestlers got slammed hard on his back. The girls all clapped and cheered.

  I turned to Fauna. “Be honest. What do you think of Belzer?” I asked.

  She groaned. “He’s like a piece of something you pull out from between your toes.”

  “So, you have a crush on him?” I said.

  “Uccccck.”

  On TV, the diaper dudes were falling on each other. The girls cheered and shrieked.

  I pulled the Peevish twins into the hall. “Look. I need your help,” I said. “I’m doing a science experiment. For extra credit in Mr. Boring’s class.”

  “I know what it is,” Flora said. “It’s about the plant and insect life that grow on Belzer’s body. Right?”

  I pinched her cheek. “I can tell you have a crush on him!” I said. “I can see your eyes light up when I mention his name.”

  “Sick,” she muttered.

  “Ucccck,” Fauna said.

  I was winning them over.

  “What’s the experiment?” Fauna asked. “Why do you need us?”

  “I need you to pretend to have major crushes on Belzer,” I said.

  “I’d rather eat cow plop,” Flora said.

  “Sign me up for that,” Fauna said.

  I laughed. “Ha-ha-ha. Belzer loves girls with a sense of humor!”

  “I’m not joking,” Flora said. “Bring me the cow plop. I’ll show you.”

  “It’s just pretend,” I said. “Just pretend you both have a crush on him. It’s an experiment. To build up his confidence. To see if it’ll make him change.”

  “No way,” Fauna said, turning up her already-turned-up nose. “Not even pretend.”

  “I sat next to Belzer at the movies,” Flora said, “and he picked his nose the entire time.”