The Big Blueberry Barf-Off! Read Free Page B

guess I don’t have to describe Chipmunk to you. You can probably figure out how he got that name.
    He was wearing faded jeans, and a gray T-shirt that said SHY PEOPLE RULE ! in tiny letters. He wiped his runny nose with the front of his T-shirt.
    â€œChipmunk, get into your school uniform, dude,” I said. “It’s almost dinnertime.”
    â€œI can’t go to dinner,” Chipmunk said in his whispery mouse voice. “I can’t leave the dorm, Bernie. I have to stay in my room for at least two weeks.”
    â€œExcuse me?” I said. “Are you sick?” I jumped back. “You’re not contagious—are you?”
    Chipmunk lowered his head again. “No. I’m not sick. Look at me. Look at my hair, Bernie. Someone…someone snuck down here last night while I was sleeping—and gave me a haircut.” He let out a sob.
    I stared at his head. It looked like a patchy quilt with some of the pieces missing. He had sprouts of hair surrounded by big, bald squares.
    â€œAt least they left you two ears,” I said. “Did you ever meet One-Ear Schmidt? He transferred to another school after his haircut last year.”
    Chipmunk let out a long, sad sigh. “I just have to stay in my room till it grows out,” he said.
    â€œTurn around,” I said. “Let’s see who did this to you.”
    Chipmunk turned so I could see the back of his head.
    â€œI knew it!” I cried. “It was one of those creeps from Nyce House! He carved a big N on the back of your head.”
    â€œHe did?” Chipmunk covered his face with his hands again. “An N on the back of my head?”

    â€œSherman Oaks is behind this,” I said. “Do you believe it? Jerks from Nyce House sneaking into our dorm and giving my guys haircuts while they sleep?”
    I slapped Chipmunk on the back. “One more reason to pay them back—right? Leave it to Bernie. I’ll show these jerks they can’t carve letters in our hair!”
    Chipmunk shook his head. “I don’t care about that,” he said. “I’m ruined, Bernie. Ruined.”
    â€œNo way,” I said. “Chipmunk, are you kidding me? Hel-lo. This is an awesome new look for you.”
    He squinted at me. “Huh?”
    â€œIt’s totally punk,” I said. I picked up a paper clip from the floor. “Here. Put this on one ear. Awesome. The punk look is perfect for you. Everyone will be imitating it. You’ll see. Guys will beg you to tell them how you did it.”
    Chipmunk’s eyes brightened. “You really think so?”
    â€œOf course I do.” I slapped him on the back. “Now, get dressed for dinner. People are waiting in the Dining Hall to see your new look.”
    He jumped to his feet. “Okay, Bernie.” He had a smile on his face. But then the smile fell.“Bernie…what about the N ?” he asked.
    I stopped at the door. “You’re from Nebraska, right?” I asked.
    â€œYeah. Omaha.”
    â€œWell, okay!” I said. “No problem, dude. Tell everyone the N stands for Nebraska. Then just watch—in a few days, the other guys will all be cutting their state initials into their heads. No kidding.”
    â€œThanks, Bernie,” Chipmunk said. He had a big grin on his face. “ N for Nebraska. Thanks a lot!” He flashed me a thumbs-up.
    I turned and climbed the stairs to my room. I had a smile on my face, too.
    I’d just saved another life.
    All in a day’s work for Bernie B.

Chapter 8
M Y F RIEND B EAST
    A short while later, I stepped into the Dining Hall. I saw Sherman Oaks standing at the first table. He was showing off his watch to a group of third graders.
    He was shouting over the roar of loud voices and the clatter of plates and silverware. “This is Function 32,” he said. “It’s a first-aid kit. Function 33—a powerful halogen flashlight.” He beamed the