The Great Smelling Bee (5 page)

Mrs. Heinie pulled me aside. “Is that your dog, Bernie?”

“Dog? What dog?” I replied. “I didn't see a dog.”

She stared at me through her thick glasses. “Bernie, even I saw that bulldog with the leg in his mouth! If you have a pet on campus, I have to report you to Headmaster Upchuck.”

I raised my hands in surrender. “Mrs. Heinie,” I said, “you caught me. I confess. I have sixteen Chihuahuas, two ducks, and a grizzly bear in my room.”

“No jokes,” she said. “Tonight, I'll be in your room for our nightly Good Night Handshake. And I'm going to search your room from top to bottom.”

The Good Night Handshake is an old Rotten School tradition. It happens every night in all the dorms before Lights-Out.

In our dorm, Mrs. Heinie comes around at nine o'clock. She goes from room to room and checks everyone in for the night.

Then she asks each one of us, “How was your day? Did you have a good day?” And she shakes hands with each of us.

It's kind of nice to end each day with a handshake. But
not
if you're hiding a parrot and a bulldog in your room.

Mrs. H. squinted at me through her glasses. “If you have a pet in there, I'll find it,” she said.

“I'll help you,” I said. “If anyone is hiding pets in the dorm, we'll catch them—won't we!”

 

A few minutes later, I was crossing the Great Lawn, hurrying back to Rotten House. I walked with my head down, my shoulders hunched. Thinking hard.

Mrs. H. would be in my room tonight, searching every corner. No way I could hide Gassy and Lippy from her. I was doomed.

The afternoon sun was sinking behind the trees. Long shadows fell over the grass.

I saw Sherman Oaks across the lawn. The evil Sherman. He'd do anything to get me in trouble.

He wore his ostrich-skin backpack. And he was carrying something on his shoulder. A laundry bag?

Why would Sherman be carrying a bulging laundry bag across the Great Lawn?

I decided to follow him. Sherman was grunting and groaning. He started to stagger. The bag was heavy.

I kept in the shadows. I crept closer. Closer…

“Ohhhh, yuck.” A disgusting smell washed over me.

I pinched my fingers over my nose. But it didn't help.

Gassy!

Sherman wasn't hauling a laundry bag. He was carrying my pet! Sherman had
kidnapped
my bulldog!

Where was Sherman taking him? Three guesses.

I stayed in the shadows. I moved behind the trees. I followed Sherman to Headmaster Upchuck's house.

He planned to rat me out. Sherman was about to show my dog to the Headmaster. And then it would be time to say, “Bye-bye, Bernie.” I'd be on the next bus home.

Nice guy, huh?

I watched Sherman lower Gassy to the ground. He had the dog on a leash. He tied the leash to a slender tree next to the Headmaster's house.

Then Sherman walked up to the front door and rang the bell.

I had to act fast. If Headmaster Upchuck came out and saw Gassy, it was all over.

But what could I do?

Think fast. Think fast, Bernie.

Turning, I saw Belzer strolling across the grass. I waved to him. “Belzer—get over here! Hurry!”

Belzer bounced over to me, his stomach bumping up and down under his T-shirt. “What's up, Big B?” he asked.

“Shhh. No time to explain,” I said. I pulled Belzer over to Gassy. When he saw me, the dog's stubby tail started wagging like crazy. Gassy knew I was going to rescue him.

I tugged the leash off Gassy. I gave him a gentle
slap on the butt, and Gassy trotted away.

Then I slid the leash over Belzer's neck. “Quick. Sit,” I said.

Belzer sat down in the grass with the leash around his neck.

“Good boy,” I said. I petted him on the head. “When Headmaster Upchuck comes out, here's what you say:
‘He tied me up! Sherman tied me up.
' Get it?”

“Got it, Big B,” Belzer said. He flashed me a thumbs-up. “How long do I have to wear this leash?”

No time to answer. The door to the Headmaster's house swung open. Sherman started to pull Headmaster Upchuck to the tree.

The Headmaster is a tiny man, about the same height as us fourth graders. He wears the same gray suit every day. I think he took it off a ventriloquist's dummy.

I darted behind a nearby bush. Then I peeked out and watched.

Sherman looked very excited. He had a big smile on his face. “I have proof that Bernie Bridges has a pet at school,” he told the Headmaster. “Here it is—Bernie's dog.”

Headmaster Upchuck stared down at Belzer. Belzer sat on the grass, looking sad. He tugged at the tight leash around his neck. “He tied me up!” Belzer cried. “Sherman tied me up!”

Sherman's mouth dropped open. His eyes bulged.

Headmaster Upchuck scowled at him. “Is this some kind of a joke?” he growled. “You know I don't have a sense of humor. I don't get jokes.”

“But—but—but—” Sherman sputtered.

“Untie Belzer,” Headmaster Upchuck ordered. “We have a school rule against tying up other students.”

“Yes, sir,” Sherman said weakly. He slid the leash off Belzer. Belzer rubbed his neck.

And just at that moment, a sound came out of Sherman's backpack. A very loud
meee-oww
.

“What was that?” Headmaster Upchuck demanded.

“Uh…nothing,” Sherman answered.

“It sounded like a cat,” Belzer said.

Another loud
meee-oww
poured out of the backpack.

“Sherman Oaks, are you hiding a pet?” the Headmaster asked. “Open your backpack. At once.”

Sherman sighed and pulled off his backpack. He unzipped it and pulled out his metal cat.

The cat
meowed
, dropped to the grass, and clawed at Headmaster Upchuck's pants leg with both paws.

“He tore my pants!” Headmaster Upchuck cried. “Get him off me! He's shredding my pants!”

Sherman struggled to pull the cat away. But he couldn't tear the cat off the Headmaster's pants.

Belzer found me behind the bush. We took off, trotting toward Rotten House.

An awesome afternoon.

Behind us, I could hear Headmaster Upchuck screaming at Sherman. “Shut that thing off! Shut it off—and give me the batteries!”

Score one for Bernie B.

“Look what fell out of Sherman's backpack,” Belzer said. He handed me a wad of raffle tickets.

“Oh, wow. These are the ten tickets I sold him,” I said. “Terrific. I'll sell them to him again. At
twice
the price!” I shoved them into my pocket.

I felt good. But I knew the pet war wasn't over. I knew Sherman wouldn't give up.

And Mrs. Heinie would be in my room tonight. My sweet pets weren't safe.

At dinner in the Dining Hall, I ate my food and Belzer's, too. Being brilliant takes a lot of energy.

After dinner most of the guys went to their rooms to do homework. Feenman, Crench, and I studied, too. We studied some PlayStation games in the Common Room.

When I glanced at the clock, it was nearly nine. Oh, wow. Nearly nine. And I realized I was DOOMED.

I heard Mrs. Heinie come downstairs. It was time for nine o'clock Lights-Out—
and the Good Night handshake.

I hurried to my room. I covered Lippy's perch.

“BEAK me!”
he squawked.
“Beak me!”

But he settled down after a few seconds.

I hoisted Gassy onto the bed and slid him under the covers. “Don't move a muscle,” I told him.

“Shut your BEAK!”
Lippy called.

I threw a dozen or so T-shirts over his stand to muffle the sound.

I sat down on the bed and tried to cover the big lump. Could I get away with it? Through my open door, I saw Mrs. Heinie in the other room. She was shaking hands with Feenman. “Good night, Mrs. Heinie,” Feenman said. She shook hands with Crench and Belzer.

“Put the balloons away,” she told Crench. “You can make more funny noises tomorrow.”

The three guys giggled like madmen.

Mrs. H. turned and headed into my room.

This was it. The big test.

“Hello, Mrs. H.,” I said. “Beautiful night, isn't it?”

“Shut your BEAK!”
Lippy squawked. Lippy's voice was muffled, but she could still hear him.

Mrs. Heinie squinted at me through her glasses. “What did you say?”

“I said, come take a PEEK.”

“That's what I plan to do,” Mrs. Heinie said, gazing around.

Lippy squawked from his cage.

“Bernie, what did you say?” Mrs. H. repeated.

“I said, lovely WEATHER.”

Mrs. Heinie began searching my room for pets. She sniffed around in every corner. She searched my closet. She went through my dresser drawers. She even got down on her knees and searched under my bed. “I don't like that smile on your face, Bernie,” she said. “I know you're hiding pets in here somewhere.”

“I'm only smiling because I'm happy to see you,” I said. I flashed her my best dimples. “You bring a little sunshine to all of us boys, Mrs. H.”

“Cut the baloney,” she said. She sighed. “I can't find any animals. Guess I'll say good night.”

She started to shake my hand—then stopped.

Her eyes bulged, and her mouth dropped open.

She was staring at the bed. Staring because Gassy had poked his head up through the covers. Gassy had his head on the pillow, staring up at Mrs. H.

“Uh…I can explain this,” I said.