The Great Smelling Bee Read Free

brothers. Only featherier and smellier.
    I needed a plan. I knew I could cover Lippy’s perch. That always shuts him up for a little while. But how could I hide Gassy?
    I was late for class. I hid both pets in the dorm Study Hall room. I knew they’d be safe. No one ever goes in there.
    A few minutes later, my brain was whirring in high gear as I made my way downstairs.
    I passed the Common Room. That’s our living room. “Yo—Billy!” I said, and waved to my friend Billy the Brain. He was hunched over a table, reading a manga comic book.
    Why do we call him the Brain? Because—duh—he’s the fourth-grade class brain. The kid has a solid C-minus average. Best in the school!
    How does he do it? He works hard for it. Hey, this brainiac studies almost half an hour every night.
    I stepped out the front door and down the steps. Then I started to jog across the Great Lawn to my first class.
    It was a sunny day. The grass sparkled. The sky was cloudless and blue. My empty backpack bounced on my back. Belzer was carrying all of my books for me.
    Up ahead, I saw Feenman and Crench walking to the School House. That’s what we call our classroom building. I hurried to catch up to them. “You still have a little green stuff in your nose,” I told Crench.
    He wiped it out with his finger. “What did you do with your pets, Bernie?”
    â€œThey’re safe,” I said. “I hid them in a room that no one ever uses.”
    â€œYou mean the Study Hall?”
    â€œRight,” I said. “Now let’s get to business, dudes. Give me the report. How are the raffle tickets selling?”
    Crench shook his head. “Not well.”
    â€œThey’re not selling at all,” Feenman said.
    My heart skipped a beat. “You mean you’ve only sold a hundred tickets? Two hundred?” I asked.
    â€œWe haven’t sold any,” Feenman said. “Kids don’t want to buy two-dollar raffle tickets from you.”
    â€œWhoa.” My mouth dropped open. “But it’s for such a good cause,” I said. “Aren’t we tired of soggy pizza? Every dollar goes to buying a new pizza oven for the Dining Hall. Just think of it, dudes. In a few weeks, our pizza will be crisp! Crisp and flaky! Look at me—I’m drooling. I’m drooling already!”
    Feenman shook his head. “Everyone thinks you’re just going to keep the money, Bernie. Like the last two raffles.”
    â€œThat’s crazy,” I said. “Mrs. Heinie asked me to hold this raffle. She put me in charge. I can’t let her down, guys. We have to sell those tickets.”
    Crench squinted at me. “ Mrs. Heinie asked you to hold this raffle?”
    â€œYes,” I said. “Of course, she was talking in her sleep. But that counts. That counts!”
    â€œBut, Bernie,” Crench said, “kids want to know what the prize is. You can’t have a raffle without a prize.”
    â€œThere’s going to be an awesome prize,” I said. “I just haven’t thought of it yet. Tell them it’s a secret prize! The prize is so totally outstanding , I have to keep it a secret.”
    My two buddies shrugged their shoulders. “They won’t buy, Bernie,” Crench said. “Not even the second graders. Feenman and I think you should give up.”
    â€œGive up?” I cried. I jumped in front of them. “Give up? Give up and eat gummy pizza for the restof the year? I’d rather starve!”
    â€œBut, Bernie—” Feenman started.
    â€œDudes—whoa. Hold on,” I said. “Did you sell any tickets to Sherman?”
    Sherman Oaks is the spoiled, rich kid who lives in the dorm across from us, the dorm we all hate. It’s called Nyce House.
    â€œNo. Sherman Oaks wouldn’t buy any,” Feenman said. “Sherman said he likes soggy pizza. He said he pays extra for soggy crust.”
    â€œHe would,”