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  Mrs. Heinie stared at me. “Really? You boys are talking about my birthday?”

  “We want to get you something shiny,” I said. “Because you make our lives shine every day.”

  Yuck. Was I spreading it a little too thick?

  No. She was buying it.

  A warm smile spread over Mrs. Heinie’s face. “That’s so sweet,” she said. “Thank you, boys. I’ll see you Rotten House guys back at the dorm.”

  She turned and started to leave.

  Bernie B. does it again!

  I was so happy, I jumped up and pumped my fists in the air to celebrate my victory.

  Mrs. Heinie turned around. “Bernie? What do you have in your hands?” she asked.

  Uh-oh. I celebrated too soon.

  “Um…nothing,” I said. “I just like to make fists every night. It’s an exercise I learned from Coach Bunz.”

  She squinted through her glasses at my closed fists. “Open up,” she said. “Let’s take a look.”

  “Nothing in them,” I said. “Coach Bunz says if you make a fist for an hour, it strengthens the knuckles. And that’s what I want—really strong knuckles.”

  “Open your hands,” Mrs. H. demanded. “You’re hiding something.”

  I had no choice. Slowly, I opened both fists.

  Mrs. H. grabbed hold of my hands. “Oh, my!” she cried. “Your hands are cold and damp and slimy. Bernie—you’re sick!”

  “No way,” I said. “Me? Sick?”

  “Your hands are squishy and wet and disgusting! I’ve never felt sick hands like those in my life!” Mrs. Heinie cried. “Come on. I’m taking you to the nurse—right now. March!”

  I know when I’m defeated. I didn’t fight her. As she dragged me to the door, I slipped the slugs to Beast.

  “Bye, Bernie,” Sherman called. “Sorry you’ll be missing the Double-Smart Quiz Bowl tomorrow!”

  I didn’t turn back. I didn’t want to see the grin on Sherman’s face.

  Okay, Sherman, I thought. You asked for it. No more Mr. Nice Guy. This war isn’t over. It has just begun….

  Chapter 21

  THE OLD GARDEN HOSE TRICK

  When Nurse Hanley finally let me out of the infirmary the next afternoon, Feenman and Crench were there to greet me.

  Feenman handed me a Nutty Nutty Bar.

  “No thanks,” I muttered.

  “How are you feeling, Big B?” Crench asked.

  “How do you think I feel?” I snapped. “I missed the Quiz Bowl this morning.”

  Feenman shook his shaggy head. “At least Sherman doesn’t have his fancy Chinese razor slug anymore.”

  “Why? What happened?” I asked.

  “Beast ate him,” Feenman said. “Beast liked the first slug so much, he ate all the rest. Sluggo, too.”

  I sighed. “Too bad. Sluggo was a real thoroughbred. But I’ve got other problems. See you later, dudes.”

  I walked on across the Great Lawn. A few minutes later, April-May appeared. Her blond hair blew like a halo behind her. Her blue eyes stared coldly at me. “I guess you messed up, Bernie,” she said. “Totally.”

  I gulped. “You mean because I missed the History test and the Quiz Bowl?”

  She nodded. “You promised to be a better student than Sherman. But you didn’t keep your promise. That’s why I’m going to the dance party with him.”

  I gulped again. I tried to think of something smart to say. But for the first time in my life, nothing came to me.

  “April-May, I have one more day,” I said finally. “One last day to prove I’m a better student than Sherman. I’ll do it. No problem. Really. You’ll see.”

  “Ha-ha and ha some more,” April-May said. She stuck her tongue out, made a loud spitting noise, and hurried away.

  I saw Jennifer Ecch hiding behind a bush. Listening. Watching. Waiting to grab me.

  I’m doomed, I thought. All because of Sherman.

  Sherman had played two dirty tricks on me. How did he have the nerve?

  Who is the KING of dirty tricks around here? Bernie Bridges, of course!

  Being a goody-goody wasn’t working out for me. I knew I had to go back to being myself.

  If only there was a way to get Sherman into major trouble. Then April-May would have no choice. She’d have to go to the dance party with me.

  But what could I do to get Sherman in trouble?

  I was thinking so hard, I didn’t see the garden hose on the grass. I tripped over it and fell to my knees.

  “Be careful,” one of the gardeners called. He was rolling up the fat garden hose. The apple trees all glistened from being watered. The blue-uniformed gardeners were hurrying off to lunch.

  “Stay away from that hose,” the gardener called to me. “It’s very powerful. It could blast you into the trees.” He hurried to catch up to the others.

  Did he say, “blast you into the trees”?

  Suddenly, I had an idea. Okay, Sherman, old pal—let’s see who plays the best dirty tricks on this campus!

  “Sherman! Hey—Sherman!” I shouted. I saw him across the grass, showing off his new bike to a group of third-grade girls.

  “Sherman—come over here! I have a surprise for you!”

  Chapter 22

  VICTORY!

  Sherman parked the bike against a tree. “What’s up, Bernie? Want to touch my bike? If you wash your hands, I’ll let you touch it.”

  I handed him the nozzle of the garden hose. “Headmaster Upchuck wants you to test this hose,” I said. “I begged him to let me do it. But he has this silly idea that you are more responsible.”

  “Of course I am,” Sherman replied. He gripped the silvery nozzle. “What does Headmaster Upchuck want me to do?”

  “He wants you to test the power,” I said. “In a few minutes, he’s going to send a guy over.” I bent down and picked up one of the gardeners’ caps. “The dude will be wearing a red cap just like this one. When you see him coming, let him have it with the hose—full blast.”

  Sherman squinted at me. “That doesn’t make any sense, Bernie. Why does the Headmaster want me to blast the guy?”

  I shrugged. “Do I know? I’m just passing along his message. Upchuck said it’s an important hose test.” I grabbed for the nozzle. “Want me to do it, Sherman?”

  “No way,” Sherman said, pulling the hose away from me. “I’m the responsible one. I’ll blast the guy.”

  “Okay. Wait here,” I said.

  Part One of my plan was working. Now for Part Two.

  I hurried off to find Headmaster Upchuck. I knew he had lunch at the Dining Hall every day at this time. Sure enough, I found him climbing the Dining Hall steps.

  Headmaster Upchuck is a tiny, little man. The teachers are always mistaking him for one of the students. He’s bald and stooped. He’s so short, he doesn’t even have a shadow!

  “I need to see you, sir,” I said.

  His whole body started to shake. He always starts to shake when he sees me. “What is it this time, Bernie?” he asked.

  “An emergency, sir,” I replied. “The gardeners need you. They have a problem with the apple trees.”

  He raised his hands to his cheeks. “Not the apple trees!” he cried. “Those are my favorites.”

  “You’d better go see them, sir. Right away,” I said. “And here, put on this red cap. It will protect you from falling apples.”

  “Thank you, Bernie.” He pulled the cap on his head and went running across the grass toward the apple trees.

  Of course, I followed close behind. I wouldn’t miss this for the world!

  Headmaster Upchuck ran across the Great Lawn as fast as his little legs would carry him. As soon as he reached the path through the trees, Sherman raised the hose and let him have it—full blast.

  Headmaster Upchuck let out an “Urk! Urk!” sound as the spray hit him in the chest. It knocked him over and sent him sliding on his back across the grass.

  “Urk! Urk!”

  Sherman kept the hose on
him. The Headmaster sputtered and sputtered. Wave after wave of water splashed over him. He thrashed his arms and legs, struggling to stand up, choking and coughing.

  “Urk! Urk!”

  Finally, some kids rescued him and pulled him to his feet. He was soaked. The back of his suit oozed wet mud.

  “Uh-oh,” I heard Sherman say. His last words.

  Sherman dropped the hose.

  A few seconds later, the Headmaster grabbed Sherman by his collar and dragged him off to his office.

  Sherman was dead meat.

  April-May and I watched Headmaster Upchuck pull Sherman away. I turned to her. “I don’t know what got into that guy,” I said. “I guess he isn’t as good as we thought. I guess he’s a big troublemaker.”

  “Weird,” April-May said, shaking her head.

  I flashed her my warmest, most sincere grin. “He’ll probably be tossed out of school,” I said. “So now you’ll go with me to the dance party?”

  She thought about it for a long time. Then she sighed. “Yes,” she said. “A deal is a deal. Yes. I’ll go with you.”

  She said YES!

  Victory!

  Victory for Bernie B.!

  Dazed, my heart pounding, I saw Feenman and Crench running up to me. “Bernie, you’d better hurry. Mrs. Heinie wants to see you at the dorm.”

  Crench shook his head. “I think you’re in trouble, Bernie,” he said.

  “Huh? Me? In trouble? I’ve been perfect all week,” I said.

  I turned to April-May. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  But I was wrong. Very wrong.

  Chapter 23

  MRS. HEINIE STEPS IN

  Mrs. Heinie was waiting for me in the front hall at Rotten House. She put a hand on my shoulder and led me into the Study Hall.

  “You’re looking wonderful today, Mrs. H.,” I said. “I love those earrings. The way they droop down to your shoulders. Are they new?”

  “I’m not wearing earrings,” she said.

  Uh-oh. I’d never realized she was a little long in the earlobe department.

  “I suppose you want me to tell you about your birthday present,” I said. “I know, I know. You don’t want us boys to spend too much money on you. But we want to. We—”

  Mrs. Heinie clamped a hand over my mouth. “Bernie, I want to know what you are up to,” she said.

  I replied. She still had her hand over my mouth.

  “Come clean, Bernie,” she said. “What are you planning to pull on us? I know it’s something big.”

  “Pull? Planning? Me?” I cried. “I’ve been an angel for days.”

  “That’s what I mean,” she said. “I’ve been watching you, Bernie. A bunch of guys had a pool tournament after Lights-Out—and you weren’t there. Some guys were caught playing cards this week—and you weren’t there.”

  “I know—” I started. “You see—”

  “Bernie, I saw you reading books in the library. Don’t deny it. I even caught you studying in this Study Hall. You’ve been acting like a perfect student. So I know something is up. I know you’re planning something big.”

  She grabbed me by my school blazer collar. “What is it, Bernie? Confess!”

  “I’m just trying to get a good education, Mrs. Heinie,” I said. “I want to make you proud of me.”

  “That PROVES it!” she cried, squeezing my lapels. “You ARE planning something evil!”

  “But—but—” I sputtered.

  “I won’t let you get away with it, Bernie,” Mrs. Heinie cried. “You’re grounded. You’re grounded here in the dorm for a week!”

  “But—but—”

  “You heard me,” she said. “I’m spoiling your evil plans. You’re grounded for a week. And one more thing…”

  “What’s that?” I asked weakly.

  “Don’t ever let me catch you in the library again!”

  Chapter 24

  COULD IT GET ANY WORSE?

  So, I missed the dance party.

  The next morning, I was lying in bed, moaning, staring at the ceiling, thinking dark thoughts.

  Feenman and Crench came into my room. “How’s it going, Big B?” Feenman asked.

  “Shut up,” I said.

  “That bad, huh.”

  “Just give me the bad news,” I groaned. “Who did April-May go to the party with?”

  “She went with Sherman,” Crench said.

  “Huh? Sherman?” I gasped.

  Crench nodded. “April-May said she changed her mind about who she likes. Now she only likes guys who are reckless and live on the edge. Guys who don’t care about school, and who get in trouble.”

  I let out a scream. Then I started punching my pillow. I punched the pillow till Feenman and Crench took the hint and left.

  Could it get any worse?

  Yes.

  I was still punching the pillow when Jennifer Ecch arrived.

  She took the pillow away from me. “Don’t feel bad, Bernie,” she said sweetly. “We only missed one dance. We’ll have next week and the next week…and the next week…and the next week…and the next…. Just the two of us!”

  About the Author

  R.L. Stine graduated from the Rotten School with a solid D+ average, which put him at the top of his class. He says that his favorite activities at school were Scratching Body Parts and Making Armpit Noises.

  In sixth grade, R.L. won the school Athletic Award for his performance in the Wedgie Championships. Unfortunately, after the tournament, his underpants had to be surgically removed.

  After graduation, R.L. became well known for writing scary book series such as The Nightmare Room, Fear Street, Goosebumps, and Mostly Ghostly, and a short story collection called Beware!

  Today, R.L. lives in New York City, where he is busy writing stories about his school days.

  For more information about R.L. Stine, go to www.rottenschool.com and www.rlstine.com.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  READ ALL THE

  ROTTEN SCHOOL BOOKS!

  #1. The Big Blueberry Barf-Off!

  #2. The Great Smelling Bee

  #3. The Good, the Bad and the Very Slimy

  #4. Lose, Team, Lose!

  #5. Shake, Rattle, and Hurl!

  #6. The Heinie Prize

  #7. Dudes, the School Is Haunted!

  #8. The Teacher from Heck

  #9. Party Poopers

  #10. The Rottenest Angel

  #11. Punk’d and Skunked

  #12. Battle of the Dum Diddys

  #13. Got Cake?

  #14. Night of the Creepy Things

  #15. Calling All Birdbrains

  #16. Dumb Clucks

  Copyright

  ROTTEN SCHOOL #3: THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE VERY SLIMY. Copyright © 2005 by Parachute Publishing, L.L.C. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  Adobe Digital Editoin March 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-190722-7

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