The Great Smelling Bee (6 page)

Think fast, Bernie. Think fast.

“Mrs. Heinie, have you met the new student?” I said.

She blinked several times. “New student?”

“Yes. He arrived today. Meet…uh…Barry Bone.”

Mrs. Heinie squinted at Gassy. “Welcome to Rotten House.”

Gassy burped.

Mrs. Heinie turned to me. “I'm shocked. I don't believe you're
sharing
your room! You never wanted a roommate. You always wanted to be by yourself.”

“Oh. Well…I wanted to give the new kid a break,” I said. “You know. Help him get a good start.”

“That's so nice of you, Bernie,” Mrs. Heinie said.

A big gob of drool ran down Gassy's chin. I stepped behind him and hugged him to cover the drool.

“Bernie—what are you doing?” Mrs. Heinie asked.

“I'm starting a
new
tradition,” I told her. “A nightly handshake
and
a nightly hug.” I tightened my hug around Gassy.

Mrs. Heinie had a tear in one eye. “Bernie, I never knew you had such a sweet side. A nightly hug is a wonderful idea.”

She stepped forward and stuck out her hand. “Barry, welcome to Rotten House. We shake hands every night.”

I still had a tight hug around the dog's middle. I stuck out my hand, and she shook it.

“And good night to you, too, Bernie,” she said. I stuck out my hand again, and she shook it again.

Mrs. Heinie turned and headed out the door.

Yaay
. Talk about a close one!

As soon as Mrs. Heinie was gone, Feenman, Belzer, and Crench hurried into my room.

“Bernie, she almost caught you,” Feenman said. “That new student idea was brilliant.”

“Brilliant!” Belzer repeated.

“But she'll catch on,” Crench said. “What are you going to do?”

“No problem. We'll do it right,” I said. “We'll enroll Barry in school.”

I listened until Mrs. H. climbed the stairs to her apartment in the attic. I heard her door close. Then Feenman, Crench, and I got dressed and tiptoed out of the dorm.

It was a cool, breezy night. Very dark. No moon or stars.

Our sneakers slid over the wet grass. I was in a hurry. Feenman and Crench had to jog to keep up with me.

“Tell me again, Bernie,” Feenman whispered. “Why are we sneaking into the Headmaster's office?”

“To enroll the new student,” I said.

We made our way to Upchuck's building. He was asleep. All the lights were out upstairs.

We sneaked in through a back window. Our flashlights danced over the walls. The Headmaster had a big desk, cluttered with papers and files. A desktop computer sat at one side.

On the wall, I saw two framed photographs. One was of Headmaster Upchuck in a black graduation robe. The other showed him at some theme park, shaking hands with SpongeBob SquarePants.

Weird.

“Hey, check it out,” Crench whispered. “He keeps a jar of jelly beans on his desk.” Crench pulled off the lid and helped himself.

Feenman grabbed a few from the jar. “Yo, Crench. What's your favorite flavor?”

“Cucumber,” Crench said. “I love the cucumber ones.”

“I like the white ones that have no flavor at all,” Feenman said. “Those are awesome!”

“We're not here for jelly beans,” I said. “This is serious. Did you forget?”

Feenman and Crench swallowed. “What do we do, Bernie?”

“Go through that stack of papers,” I said, beaming my light on the desk. “Find the ‘New Student file.'”

They began pawing through the stack. I moved to the file cabinets against the wall and began to search.

“Found it!” I whispered, pulling out a thick file. “Okay, dudes. We're in business.”

I spread the file out on the desktop. “Here we go. Registration form. Keep your light on it. Hey, Crench—what are you doing?”

“I got a green onion one,” he said. “Awesome.” He tossed a few more jelly beans into his mouth. “Mmmm. Tomato.”

I pulled out my pen and leaned over the registration form.

“Hey, Bernie, what's up with this? How is this going to work?” Feenman asked.

“I enroll Gassy as a transfer student,” I said. “If Gassy is a student, he can't be a pet—right? And if he's not a pet, I can't be kicked out of school.”

“But—but—” Feenman stammered. “It won't work. It
can't
work.”

“Take it easy,” I said. “He won't be the
only
student in this school who walks on all fours!”

Crench was grabbing for the jelly beans again. He was no help at all. But Feenman held his flashlight over the New Student form. And I filled it out.

I wrote Gassy's new name on the form:
BARRY A
.

BONE
. Then I scribbled stuff over the rest of the page.

“I'm so proud. Barry's gonna be a Rotten Student!” I said. “Crench—get away from the jelly beans. Open that supply closet over there. Find Barry a school T-shirt and a cap.”

Crench opened the closet and began to search through the shelves of shirts and sweatshirts. “Problem, Bernie,” he said. “They don't have dog sizes.”

“Never mind that,” I said. “Just get a large.”

He handed me a shirt and a cap. “Better get me
two
shirts,” I said. “Barry spits up a lot.”

Crench handed me another shirt.

“Okay. We're done. Let's get out of here,” I said.
“I've got to get Barry ready for school tomorrow.”

We started to the door. But Crench just couldn't resist. He saw two dark beans resting on the desk. He picked them up and popped them into his mouth. He chewed for a moment. Then he made a disgusted face. “Sick. These taste
awful
.”

“That's because they're not jelly beans,” I said. “That was mouse poop.”

The next morning, Belzer walked Barry while I ate breakfast. I could barely swallow my bacon, sausage, hash browns, cheese Danish, and hominy grits. I was nervous about Barry's first day in class.

When Belzer returned, I told him to get the new student dressed for school.

It wasn't easy.

Belzer had a hard time pulling the shirt over Barry's head and down his legs. Barry kept growling and snapping at him.

“Ow. My arm. I'm bleeding!” Belzer cried. “Look
what that dog did to me. I'm bleeding!”

“It's only a flesh wound,” I said. “Be a man, Belzer! The new student is just a little nervous on his first day.”

“It isn't going to work if he bites everyone!” Belzer said.

“They'll just think he's friendly,” I said.

Belzer finally finished with the shirt. Then he tucked the baseball cap over Barry's floppy bulldog ears. “Listen to me. It isn't going to work, Big B,” Belzer said. “Look. He's drooling on his shirt.”

“So does Feenman,” I said. “Let's go. It's almost time for class.”

We led Barry downstairs. We were almost out the door when we ran into Billy the Brain. “Hey, what's up, guys?” he greeted us.

“Just heading to class,” I said. “Why the big smile, dude?”

“Check this out,” he said. He flashed a paper in front of me. “I aced the History test, Bernie. I got a forty-eight. Believe it?”

“Wow.” I stared at his test paper. He got almost
half
the questions right! “Good work, Billy,” I said.
“Whoa, dude. That will bring up the curve for the whole class.”

He turned to Barry. “Hey—how's it going?” he asked the dog.

Barry stared up at him with his runny brown eyes.

“Transfer student,” I told Billy. “First day.”

“Hey, good luck,” Billy said. He reached out his right hand to shake hands with Barry.

“Shake,” I whispered. “Shake.”

Barry raised a paw. They shook hands. Billy hurried off.

As soon as he was gone, Belzer turned to me. “Bernie—he didn't even notice. Did you see? Billy the Brain didn't even notice that Barry is a dog!”

I scratched my chin. “Maybe we need to think of a new nickname for Billy,” I said.

Belzer nodded. “You mean, like, Billy the Moron?”

“No time for that now,” I said. I gave Barry a shove out the door. “Let's see if we can fool everyone else. If we can't, I'm in deep trouble.”

A few minutes later, I walked Barry into Mrs. Heinie's classroom. “Mrs. H.,” I called. “Here is the new transfer
student. Barry Bone. Where should he sit?”

I heard a loud
BRAAAAAT
.

Mrs. Heinie turned around. She wrinkled up her nose. “OOH. What's that smell?” she gasped. “What's that horrible STINK?”

Kids pinched their fingers over their noses. The classroom filled with moans and groans.

Barry stared up at Mrs. Heinie, and she stared back at him.

My legs started to tremble. Would she see that her new student looked a lot like a bulldog?

The loudspeaker squealed on.

We heard Headmaster Upchuck clear his throat. “Attention, students,” he said. “Many of you have requested that we use only
one
-letter words in the Spelling Bee. We have decided that might be too easy. So, the Spelling Bee is canceled. The Smelling Bee is also canceled.”

Mrs. Heinie stared at my fat bulldog. “Barry, we were just about to start our French lessons,” she said. “Do you speak any French?”

Barry let out a burp.

“What did he say?” Mrs. Heinie asked. “I couldn't hear.”

“He said,
‘Oui, Madame,
'” I replied. “He's very shy. He speaks very quietly.”

Mrs. Heinie smiled at Barry. “How many years of French have you had?” she asked.

Barry burped again. Some drool dripped down his chin.

“He said, ‘
Trois ans,
'” I told her.

“Wow. Three years of French! You're way ahead of our class,” Mrs. H. said. “I'm impressed.”

Barry was off to a good start.

“Have a seat, Barry,” Mrs. Heinie said.

“He'll sit next to me,” I said. I bumped Feenman out of his chair and motioned for Barry to jump up.

Mrs. Heinie squinted at the dog through her thick glasses. “Let's start our French lesson now. Barry, you can let us know if we're saying everything correctly.”

Barry burped up some of his breakfast. I mopped it up and helped him into his chair.

The rest of the morning went very smoothly. Barry sat at his desk and stared alertly at Mrs. Heinie with his tongue hanging out. Luckily, three or four other students had their tongues hanging out.

I relaxed a little bit. I didn't have to worry—until choir practice.