The Heinie Prize (3 page)

Belzer held the letter close to his face and started to read it out loud. “‘Dear Belzer,'” it began.

Even his parents call him Belzer! I don't think
anyone
knows his first name.

 

Dear Belzer,

All we hear from you is about this kid Bernie Bridges. Bernie this and Bernie that. It seems you have nothing else to write about.

You haven't accomplished anything at school. You seem to be a loser in every way.

We want to be proud of you. We don't want to be proud of someone named Bernie.

So, we are taking you out of Rotten School. We will send you to a school where you can amount to something.

Love,

Mom & Dad

 

Feenman and I stared in shock at Belzer. Belzer had his eyes on the letter. He was reading it again.

Finally, he turned to us with a sad sigh. “I have to go to another school,” he muttered. “Guess I should start packing.”

“Whoa! Hold it! Hold it!” I cried. I rushed across the room and grabbed Belzer by his flabby shoulders. “You're not leaving Rotten School just because your parents say so—
are
you?”

Belzer shrugged. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Bad attitude!” I said. “You know Bernie B.'s motto—‘Never Give Up!'”

“But, Bernie—” Belzer started to protest.

“Did I give up when Coach Bunz ordered us to climb the peaks of Mount Droolmann?” I asked.

“Bernie, that was a tiny hill,” Feenman said. “And Belzer
carried
you to the top—remember?”

“Did I give up when Chef Baloney refused to give us second helpings of his famous mushroom chocolate chip ice cream? Did I give up when Mrs. Heinie insisted that Foamy Root Beer is not part of a healthy breakfast?”

I gave Belzer a hard slap on the back. “No!” I declared. “No! I never give up!”

Belzer let out a soft whimper. “But, Bernie—my parents say I have to leave.”

“Don't worry about it,” I said. “You're not going anywhere. Now, get outta here. Go do the laundry.” I tossed him the bag and shoved him out the door.

I waited until Belzer had disappeared down the stairs. Then I turned to Feenman. I punched my fist into my hand. “They can't
do
this to me!” I shouted. “It took me
months
to train him! I don't want to lose such a good slave! Oops. I mean, such a good
friend
.”

Feenman shook his head. “Belzer is a good guy,” he said. “But what can you do?”

I started to pace back and forth, thinking hard,
plotting and scheming. It's what Bernie B. does best.

A few minutes later I knew exactly what we had to do.

I called Crench into my room. “Where've you been?” I asked.

“Eating candy bars,” he said. He held up a Nutty Nutty Bar. He had chocolate smeared all over his face.

“I want you to hear my idea,” I said. “It's a brilliant idea.”

“Dude, have you ever had any other kind?” Crench said. He sat down next to Feenman on my bed. They were both sitting on Gassy. But the fat, lazy bulldog didn't seem to care.

“Belzer has to win the Heinie Prize,” I said. “Most Outstanding Fourth Grader. That will impress his parents, and they'll let him stay here.”

“Huh?”

Their mouths dropped open. A wet gob of chocolate fell out of Crench's mouth, onto my white shag rug.

“Belzer? Most Outstanding Fourth Grader?” Feenman cried. “But, Bernie—he's kind of a dim bulb. I mean, when he gets dressed in the morning, he pulls his pants down over his head!”

“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!”

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!”

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….

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.