The Heinie Prize (5 page)

“Feenman, be gentle with that box,” I said. “It's filled with photo albums of me. Careful not to wrinkle them.”

Feenman groaned under the weight of the huge carton. “Where am I carrying this, Bernie?”

“Into your room,” I said. “Crench, careful with that poster of me. The frame is delicate glass.”

I watched Crench hoist the poster off my wall. He followed Feenman into the tiny room across the hall.

“Belzer, watch how you handle those boxer
shorts,” I said. “I have them neatly folded and arranged by color.”

“I don't get it, Big B,” Belzer said. “Why are you moving out of your room?”

I put a hand on Belzer's shoulder. “I'm giving my room to
you
, Belzer,” I said. “And I'm moving into that tiny closet across the hall with Feenman and Crench.”

“But, Bernie—” he started.

“No. Don't thank me,” I said. “You know I do
anything
for my friends.”

“But, Bernie—”

I clapped him on the back. His bubble gum went flying from his mouth. He bent over, picked it up, and popped it back in.

“You need my room, Belzer,” I said. “You need room to be alone.”

He blew a fat, pink bubble that burst all over his face. “I do?”

“You need room to think outstanding thoughts,” I told him. “Room to practice being outstanding.”

He was struggling to unstick the gum from his cheeks. “Yes. Outstanding thoughts,” he said.

I turned to the door. “Feenman! Crench! Hurry up with Belzer's stuff,” I shouted. “Get it in here. He's in a hurry to start thinking outstanding thoughts.”

Belzer raised a pointer finger. “I think I have one, Bernie,” he said. “I think I have an outstanding thought! OOPS. I forgot it.”

I patted him on the head. “Don't strain yourself, Belzer,” I said. “You'll get a headache if you try too hard.”

Feenman and Crench were sweating and struggling with some heavy cartons from Belzer's room. “What have you got in this box?” Feenman groaned.

“It's my bowling ball collection,” Belzer said.

“Bowling balls?” Crench cried. “Belzer, you don't bowl!”

“I know,” Belzer replied. “I just like the way they look.”

“He's an art lover!” I exclaimed. “See? I told you he was outstanding!”

Feenman dropped to his knees. “How…how many balls in this box?” he moaned.

“About ten,” Belzer said.

Crench carried a carton in front of him. He couldn't see where he was going. He tripped over Feenman.

The carton tipped over. Bowling balls hit the floor and bounced in all directions. Feenman and Crench hit the floor, too.

Belzer screamed. “Don't let them escape!”

A ball rolled out into the hall. I jumped over Feenman and Crench and took off after it.

The ball spun rapidly to the stairs. Then it started to bounce down the stairs, picking up speed.

To my horror, I saw a figure slowly climbing the stairs.

“Mrs. Heinie—look out!” I screamed. “LOOK OUT!”

Belzer and I dove down the stairs to help Mrs. Heinie. The bowling ball bounced hard into the pit of her stomach. Her glasses went flying. She doubled over and made a loud
OOOOOF
sound, just like in the cartoons.

Belzer and I lifted her up by the arms. I brushed off the front of her house smock.

Belzer handed Mrs. H. her glasses. “Hope my bowling ball is okay,” he murmured.

“What was THAT?” she gasped, glancing up and down the stairs.

“A brilliant new game that Belzer invented,” I said. “It's called Stair Bowling.”

She blinked several times. She rubbed her stomach. “Stair Bowling?”

“Yes. Belzer is so clever!” I said. “It's a fabulous, new game. It'll probably make Belzer a million dollars!”

Belzer blushed. “You really think so?”

I stepped in front of him. “He's a total genius, Mrs. H.,” I said. “He invents these new games all the time. Have you seen his outstanding, new computer game? It's called Stand Up for Rotten School. Belzer is so loyal! He told me he'd give his
life
for this school!”

Mrs. Heinie stared at Belzer. “He would? That's very interesting…. Could he do it
tonight
?”

I was getting to her. I could see her brain whirring. “I know you're thinking of Belzer for the Heinie Prize—and you're right!” I said.

“Did you see the
huge
box of chocolates Sherman sent me this morning?” Mrs. Heinie said. “That boy really knows how to bribe. I'm just about ready to engrave his name on the trophy.”

“Belzer doesn't
have
to bribe!” I cried. “Because he's a genius!”

She groaned and rubbed her stomach. “We'll see what a genius he is when he hands in his term paper.”

I gulped. “Huh? Term paper?”

“Term paper,” she said. “You've heard those words, right?”

“But Belzer is way too brilliant to write a term paper,” I said. “He has to think deep thoughts. He has to keep inventing new games.”

“Term paper,” Mrs. Heinie said. She spelled the words for me.

I watched her hobble up to her apartment in the attic, holding her stomach.

“Term paper,” I muttered. “Term paper.”

Sherman's bribes were working. He was way ahead of Belzer. Belzer
had
to write the best term paper ever written. But—how?

And then three other words popped into my mind: Billy the Brain.

Billy the Brain is the smartest kid at Rotten School. He can read a book with one eye closed!

I knew he was the perfect person to write Belzer's term paper for him.

I trotted down the stairs to Billy's room. I found him in the hall. He was holding the runaway bowling ball in his hands, studying it closely.

“Yo, Billy,” I said.

“Look what I found,” he said. He held up the blue and black ball. “I think it fell through the roof. It's part of an asteroid that must have exploded.”

“No—” I started.

“Check out the blue markings in the ancient rock,” Billy said. “Many centuries ago, those could have been rivers.”

“It's not an asteroid. It's a bowling bowl,” I said.

“I knew that!” Billy replied. “I was just testing you.”

“How did you do on Mr. Boring's surprise Science quiz?” I asked.

“I aced it,” Billy said. “A solid 36.”

“Excellent!” I cried. I slapped him a high five. I shouldn't have done it. He dropped the bowling ball on his foot.

Billy started moaning in pain and hopping up and down on one foot. Some guys came out of their rooms and started clapping along.

“Go back in your rooms. He isn't dancing!” I shouted.

They clapped along anyway, until Billy finally stopped hopping. He limped into his room, and I followed him.

He has big, color posters of human brains on his walls. And a red and gold sign that reads: I'M SMARTER THAN YOU.

Well, sure, sometimes he brags a little. But a kid who can read an entire comic book in less than a day has a right to brag!

“I need you to do me a favor,” I said. “How long does it take you to write a term paper?”

“About ten minutes,” he said. “Unless I'm having a bad day. Then it takes fifteen.”

“Can you write a brilliant term paper for Belzer?” I asked.

“No problem,” he said. “What is the subject?”

“‘The History of the Internet,'” I told him.

Billy rubbed his chin. “Very good subject,” he said. “Did you know that before we had computers, people tried to get the Internet on their toasters? But it didn't work. Toast kept popping up, and they couldn't read the screen.”

“Well—” I started.

“And back in the day, before we had electricity,” Billy said, “kids had to play video games by candlelight!”

I stared at him. What a moron.

“You know what?” I said. “I think I'll write Belzer's term paper myself.”

Two nights later I was busy in my new room. The door swung open, and Feenman and Crench burst in, panting like dogs.

“Bernie—come quick,” Feenman said.

“Emergency!” Crench cried. “It's a poker emergency.”

I squinted at him. “Excuse me?”

“Sherman is holding a poker game, and he's beating everyone,” Crench said, tugging my arm. “Come quick, Bernie. You've got to join the game.”

“You've got to do the Bernie Shuffle,” Feenman said.

That's my special card trick. As I shuffle the cards, I see every single card in the deck.

“Then you've gotta do the Bernie Deal,” Feenman said.

That's when I deal from the bottom, middle, and top of the deck, and no one is the wiser.

“You've gotta take Sherman down,” Crench said. “Hurry. I've got the sandpaper to get your fingers nice and dry.” He tried to tug me up again.

“Sorry, dudes. Not tonight,” I said. “Can't you see I'm busy here?” I pointed to the piles of books and papers on my desk.

“Too busy to teach Sherman a poker lesson?” Feenman cried. “You're joking, right?”

“I'm not joking,” I said. “What are you playing for? Money?”

Feenman laughed. “We can't play for money, Bernie. You took all our money—remember? We're playing for chips.”

“What kind of chips?” I asked.

“That new garlic and onion flavor,” Crench said. “We've got a whole bag.”

My favorite! I jumped to my feet and grabbed the
sandpaper from Crench. I started to sand my fingers.

No. Stop, Bernie. No way.

I shook my head. “I'm finishing Belzer's math homework,” I said. “Then I have to get back to work on Belzer's term paper.”

“But, Big B—” Crench protested.

“Then I have to walk my dog,” I said. “And I've got two loads of Belzer's laundry at the laundry room. When I finish that, I have to set out Belzer's clothes for tomorrow. I have to shine his shoes. Then I have to plan what I'm going to bring him for breakfast.”

“Bernie, what's happened to you?” Crench cried. “You've become Belzer's
slave
!”

“Worth it,” I said. “Worth it, dudes. We don't want Belzer to leave school, do we? Once he wins the Heinie Prize and is King of the Campus, the king will go back to being
my
slave. It's worth it.”

They walked out, shaking their heads. I turned back to the math book and continued solving the problems.

I worked all night. “Worth it. Worth it,” I kept muttering to myself.

The next morning I stumbled into class, yawning
and rubbing my tired eyes.

I dropped into my seat, planning to take a short nap. But Mrs. Heinie's words snapped me to attention. “I hope you are all ready for the Geography test,” she said. “It counts
half
your grade.”

Half?

I forgot all about it!