The Great Smelling Bee (4 page)

Sherman turned and flashed me his perfect, gleaming smile. I gazed at the smooth, blond hair, his crisply starched school uniform, his deep tan, his sparkling blue eyes, the sneer on his thin lips.

He wore an ostrich-skin backpack with the price tag still on it—$300. He had a platinum iPod in his blazer pocket.

Still grinning at me, he pulled off the ear pieces. “Bernie,” he said, “I hear you're hiding two pets in your dorm room.”

My pets arrived half an hour ago! How did he find out? How did my biggest
enemy
on earth find out my biggest secret?

I grabbed my head. I felt dizzy. My stomach rocked. And rolled. I was sick. SICK!

“Pets? I don't know what you're talking about,” I said. “What is up with all these
false rumors
about me?”

Sherman's ugly grin grew wider. “In Nyce House, we like to follow the rules,” he said. “It keeps us out of trouble. Know what I mean?”

Was he threatening me? Was he threatening to tell Headmaster Upchuck about my pets?

Sherman stuck out his hand to shake hands. “I just want to say good-bye, Bernie. This might be the last time I see you. I mean, if I should
accidentally
tell Headmaster Upchuck about your pets…”

Uh-oh. He
was
threatening me!

“Why would I have pets?” I said. “I'm allergic to them. Just the
word
makes me itch. Look. Look. Don't
say
that word! I'm itching all over.” I went into a scratching fit, scratching every part of my body.

“You need a pet like mine, Bernie,” Sherman said. He pointed to a hunk of shiny metal at his feet.

“I don't believe this,” I said. “Now you've got your own personal trash can!”

“It's a digital robot pet,” Sherman said. “It cost
one thousand dollars. My parents sent it to me because they think they can buy my love with expensive, shiny toys.”

I stared at the thing. It was kinda shaped like a cat.

“Watch this,” Sherman said. He took out a thin remote controller and aimed it at the metal pet. “Say hello, Money. Say hello to Bernie.”

“Money?”
I said. “You named your pet
Money
?”

“Yeah. Cute name, isn't it?” Sherman pushed some buttons on the controller. “Say hello, Money.”

The little robot squeaked,
“Mee-ow. Mee-ow.”

Sherman laughed. “Isn't that totally fabulous? Now watch this.” He pushed more buttons.

The robot pet ran around the grass in a big circle. Then it rolled over. Then it jumped into the air a few times and wagged its metal tail.

Sherman laughed. He got down on his knees to pet the thing. “Good boy! Good, Money! Good!” He looked up at me. “See? This pet won't get me in trouble.”

“Let me try it,” I said. I took the remote from him. I pushed a few buttons.

The metal cat grabbed Sherman's face with its paws, latched on tight, and began to squeeze.

“Oww! Bernie! Stop it!” he screamed. “Stop it! Ow! It's
hurting
me!”

I stared at the controller. “I'm just no good at these things,” I said. “How do you work it? I can't ever figure these things out.”

“Stop it! Get it OFF me!” Sherman howled.

“It's so confusing,” I said, shaking my head. “So many buttons. Do I push the blue ones or the red ones?”

“Owww! It's squeezing my face! Make it
stop
!”

I pushed a yellow button. The robot cat coughed up a metal hairball into Sherman's face.

“OW! OWWWW!

“It's SQUEEZING my beautiful face!” he wailed.

Should I give the guy a break?

Hey, Bernie B. is a good guy. Of
course
I gave him a break.

A few minutes later, I made the tin cat open its paws. “So sorry, dude,” I said. “I just can't ever work these things.”

Sherman staggered to his feet. His cheeks were bright purple. “Thanks, Bernie. That was a close one,” he said. He picked up the robot cat and shook it hard. “Bad boy! Bad boy!” he scolded. “No fresh batteries for you tonight.” Sherman turned to me. “He likes it when I change his batteries.”

“Glad I could rescue you,” I said. “This
is
my lucky day, after all.”

Sherman squinted his sky blue eyes at me. “Huh? Your lucky day?”

I nodded. “Yeah, dude. It's my lucky day.” I pulled a bunch of raffle tickets from my pocket. “Check these out. Pizza oven raffle tickets. I bought the last ten tickets.”

Sherman stared at the tickets in my fist. “You bought the last ten tickets?”

“I have the last ten raffle tickets. And I wouldn't sell them to anyone.”

I waved them slowly in front of his face.

Sherman's mouth fell open, and he started to drool. “The last ten? You're serious? And you rigged the raffle, didn't you, Bernie? It's fixed, right? You made sure you have the winning ticket.”

I grinned at him. “Would I do that? That would be cheating. You don't think I'm a cheater,
do
you, Sherman?” I waved the tickets in front of his face some more.

“I'll buy 'em off you, Bernie. How much? How much?”

“Not selling,” I said. “Why would I sell the last ten tickets?”

Drool ran down Sherman's chin. His eyes bulged. He was breathing hard. “How much, Bernie? Come on. How about two bucks? I'll give you two bucks each for them.”

He grabbed for the tickets. I swung them away from him.

“Oh, no,” I said. “You want them too badly, Sherman. You
know
I have a winner here—don't you! You're trying to cheat me. Play fair, Sherman. Play fair!”

“Okay,” he said. “Four dollars. Four dollars each. What do you say, Bernie? Four dollars.”

I pretended to think about it. I rubbed my chin and shut my eyes. “Okay,” I said finally. “It breaks my heart, but…four dollars each.”

“Thank you! Thank you!”
Sherman cried. He handed me a wad of dollar bills, and I gave him the tickets. “Wow! The last ten tickets!” he said. “Thank you!” He picked up his robot cat and ran off to class.

I watched him go. Then I counted the money. Forty big ones.

I should have felt happy. The
master
had struck again!

But I was too worried to enjoy the money. Sherman knew about my pets. What if he squealed to Headmaster Upchuck?

I had to do something to hide them. And I had to act fast!

I caught up to Feenman and Crench. “Sherman was too easy. Too easy!” I said. I waved the wad of dollar bills in front of their noses.

Their tongues fell out of their mouths, and they started to pant.

“But, dudes, I've got a big problem,” I said. “Mrs. H. almost busted me. She almost saw Lippy and Gassy. And Sherman Oaks knows about them. I'm afraid he'll tell Headmaster Upchuck.”

I wiped the sweat off my forehead with a dollar bill. “If we don't find a better way to hide Gassy, I'll
be waving bye-bye to you guys on the next bus.”

“Bernie, that dog
stinks
!” Feenman said.

“Feenman, you don't smell that good yourself,” I replied.

“I've got it! Maybe we could dress the dog up,” Crench said. “Disguise him. You know. Maybe make him look like a cat.”

“Like a
cat
?” I cried. “What good would that do? How would that help me with Mrs. Heinie?”

Crench scratched his chin. “Well…if she thinks the dog is a cat, it might confuse her.”

I patted Crench on the head. “How many times have I told you not to think before noon? It puts a terrible strain on your brain.”

“Sorry, Bernie.”

We passed under a clump of apple trees. Up ahead stood a tall, old, brick building. Long vines of poison ivy clung to its walls. This was the School House, where all the classes are held.

I slipped into class just as the bell rang. Mrs. Heinie sat at her desk, cleaning her glasses.

I slid into my desk between Feenman and Crench. Headmaster Upchuck's voice came on the
loudspeaker. The speaker squealed and whistled. It was hard to hear.

“I have two special announcements,” the Headmaster said. “First, one of our lunchroom ladies is missing a leg. If you are the one who took it, you know who you are. Please return it to the kitchen, and no questions will be asked.”

A lot of kids giggled at that one.

“Second,” Upchuck continued, “twelve students signed up for the Smelling Bee. I must repeat—it is NOT a Smelling Bee. These students are very, very mixed up.

“So far,” he said, “
no one
has signed up for the Spelling Bee. So we are going to make it a little easier. Only
two
-letter words will be used. I hope you will all enter the contest now. Thank you.”

Mrs. Heinie stood up at the front of the classroom. The light reflected off her glasses. “Today, I thought we'd have a little fun and talk about state capitals,” she said.

Everyone groaned.

Feenman had his head down on his desk. He was already sound asleep.

“Does anyone know the capital of South Dakota?” Mrs. Heinie asked.

No hands went up.

“South Dakota is a
very
important state,” Mrs. H. said. “Does anyone want to take a
guess
about the capital?”

Belzer raised his hand. “Is it France?”

Mrs. Heinie shook her head. “Come on, people. You know this. The capital of South Dakota?”

Belzer raised his hand again. “Is it
North
Dakota?”

“Are you trying to be funny?” Mrs. Heinie asked him.

Belzer squinted at her. “Funny?”

“I'm a little surprised at you all,” Mrs. Heinie said. “You were supposed to study your capitals last night. I—”

She suddenly stopped. She saw that no one was listening.

A lot of kids had turned to the window and were staring out.

What were they gawking at?

I jumped out of my seat so I could see. “OH, NO!” I let out a horrified cry.

Gassy!

He had escaped from the dorm. The fat bulldog stood outside the classroom window, staring in.
And he had the lunchroom lady's WOODEN LEG between his teeth!

Kids were pointing and screaming. A bunch of them ran to the window to get a better view.

I sank back into my seat and shut my eyes.

“Whose dog is that?” Mrs. Heinie demanded. “Does anyone know? Whose dog is that?”

And then I heard Sherman Oaks's voice ring out loud and clear: “It's Bernie's. It's Bernie's dog!”