The Big Blueberry Barf-Off! Read Free Page A

money I’ve raised, sir, from all the kids,” I said. “It’s to build a statue of you , sir. Right next to I. B. Rotten.”

    I gave him a quick, two-fingered salute. “You belong here, sir. You’ve inspired us all so much. We want to put your statue right here.”
    â€œThat’s nice of you, Bernie,” the Headmaster said. “But I really think—”
    Sherman pointed to the wad of bills in my hand. “That’s the money I donated, sir,” he said. “I gave Bernie all that money. That’s how much you mean to me, sir.”
    â€œWhoa. Wait—” I started to choke.
    â€œI appreciate that, Sherman,” Headmaster Upchuck said, patting Sherman on the shoulder. “That’s very generous of you.”
    â€œBut—but—” I sputtered.
    â€œI can’t accept these donations, boys,” Upchuck said. “Bernie, give Sherman back his money.”
    I stared at the fat wad of bills. My Eclipse Money. My hard-earned cash. My hand started to shake. “But, sir, your statue. It will give us all such joy!” I said.
    â€œRight now, Bernie,” Upchuck snapped. “Give Sherman back his money.”
    I had no choice.
    I handed the cash over to Sherman.
    Sherman had a big, evil grin on his face. He knew he was a rat.
    A rat who had just won big-time.
    He stuffed my money into his sealskin wallet. Then he edged close to Headmaster Upchuck. Sherman slid a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet. He pressed it into the Headmaster’s hand. “This is for you, sir,” he said. “A little gift from the Oaks family.”
    Upchuck stared at the hundred-dollar bill. “Sherman, are you trying to bribe me again ?” he asked.
    â€œYes, sir,” Sherman replied.
    â€œTake it back,” the Headmaster said, stuffing it into Sherman’s shirt pocket. “Aren’t you boys late for class?”
    â€œClass? Yes, sir,” I said. “But I would gladly miss class to help build that statue of you. Perhaps we should start by having Sherman return that donation to me?”
    The Headmaster started to shake. He made a few sharp quacking sounds. “I’m shaking again,” he said. “You always do this to me, Bernie. You always give me the— quaaack —shakes. Now get to class!”
    â€œOkay, sir,” I said. I gave him another two-fingered salute. “Lovely to see you, sir. I do love that suit. Those big shoulders make you look very strong. I know you’ll grow into them in no time!”
    â€œBERNIE! GET TO CLASS!” he screamed.

    He started quacking at the top of his lungs and tearing out his hair with both hands. (Only he didn’t have any hair.)
    â€œGO AWAY! QUACK! GO AWAY!”
    I can take a hint.
    I took off, running across the grass to the School House building.
    Talk about rotten mornings!
    Sherman tricked me out of my money. And he still had the watch.
    I needed it. Needed it!
    I gazed up at the sun, rising golden and bright over the school grounds. It wasn’t as bright as that watch.
    I had to have it. But how?
    How?
    That night at dinner, I knew how I would do it. It all came to me in the crunch of a pizza crust….

Chapter 7
C HIPMUNK
    That evening, I was climbing the stairs to my room in Rotten House. I stopped to straighten the framed portrait of me that I had hung on the second-floor landing.
    I heard a soft sound. Squeaky. Sniffling.
    Was someone crying?
    I don’t like crying. I like my guys to be happy, cheerful.
    I poked my head into the first room. Three bunk beds were jammed into this room. In one bottom bunk, a kid sat hunched over, his face buriedin his hands. His shoulders heaved up and down. He was definitely crying.
    â€œChipmunk? What’s up?” I asked. I stepped over two weeks of dirty laundry to get to his bed.
    My friend Chipmunk raised his head. He had tear stains on his puffy cheeks. His eyes were red and runny.

    I