Got Cake? (5 page)

I waited three days. Then I took Belzer aside in the Dining Hall during lunch.

Belzer must have eaten a big lunch. He couldn't button his school blazer. Underneath it he wore a red-and-white T-shirt. I pulled open the blazer and read the T-shirt:

I MAY BE STUPID BUT AT LEAST I'M UGLY
.

I frowned at him. “Belzer, where do you get these loser T-shirts?”

He squinted at me. “You really think it's a loser shirt? My mother sent it to me.”

Belzer grabbed a slice of pizza off the serving table. He tried to eat it whole but missed his mouth, and most of it went onto his shirt.

“Belzer, I know you and the guys are planning a big surprise party for me,” I said. “It's going to be HUGE—right?”

He blinked. “Party?”

“Try to keep it small,” I said. “I'm a modest guy. I'd like it to be small.”

He picked a piece of pepperoni off his shirt and ate it. “Party? Bernie, I haven't heard anything about a party.”

I laughed and slapped him on the back. “I see that little smile on your face, Belzer,” I said. “You're so bad at keeping a secret!”

He blinked some more. “Party? Are you sure?”

I handed him another pizza slice. This time it went all over his forehead.

Did the guys forget about planning the party?

I decided they needed more reminding. So I called a Rotten House dorm meeting that night….

I herded everyone into the Rotten House Commons Room. That's like our living room, with comfy chairs and couches. Mrs. Heinie stood in the doorway, squinting at us through her thick glasses.

“You're looking really, really wonderful tonight, Mrs. H.,” I said. “I love your new hair color—bright orange.”

“It's not my hair. I'm wearing a shower cap,” she said. “Hurry up and get this meeting over with, Bernie. I have to go upstairs and deworm my cat.”

“No problem, Mrs. H.”

I set a big carton down on a table and pulled out a few T-shirts. “Okay, dudes,” I said. “Here are the official T-shirts for everyone to wear to my surprise birthday party. Do you like them better in blue or gray?”

I held up one of each. On the front they said:
I
BERNIE
. And on the back they said:
I
BERNIE
.

I wasn't taking any chances.

I reached into the carton. “And here are the party favors. Pictures of me, of course.” I held them up. “Do you like this view or this view? I can't decide which is my best side. You get to vote since you're the ones who are throwing the party.”

“Bernie, hold your horses,” Mrs. Heinie said. She crossed the room and picked up a few T-shirts.

“I'd be honored for you to wear one, Mrs. H.,” I said. “Let me see if I have your size. You take a small—right? No. Maybe a teeny-tiny.”

She usually loves it when I do a little flattering. But she frowned and tossed the shirts down. “Bernie, what is this meeting about? You told me you wanted to discuss planting pansies and petunias around the statue of I. B. Rotten.”

My mouth dropped open. “Pansies? Petunias? Mrs.
Heinie, how can you think about flowers? My friends here have been working so hard on my birthday party. I know they want to get it right. So I called this meeting to help them.”

Her eyes goggled behind her glasses. “Party? What party? I'm the dorm mother. It's my job to know
everything
that's going on around here!”

“And you do it so well,” I said. “You're an
awesome
snoop, Mrs. Heinie.”

“Well,” she said, “I haven't heard anything about a party.”

I laughed. “You can't keep a secret. I see that smile on your face. You know about the party. I'll bet you've been helping the guys plan it, haven't you!”

Mrs. Heinie frowned. “But what about the pansies and petunias?”

“Yes, they would be nice for my party,” I said. “But roses are my favorite. I know you're all planning to fill the room with roses—aren't you!”

Was the party idea working?

Does a bear wear suspenders in the woods?

The answer was definitely
no
.

For the next few days I kept my eyes and ears open. But no one was talking about it. No one was making decorations or blowing up balloons. I searched every closet in Rotten House. No one had hidden away any birthday presents for me.

Friday afternoon, I saw Sherman Oaks with Leif Blower outside the Student Center. Sherman waved a hundred-dollar bill in front of Blower's face.

“Did you lose this?” he asked Blower. “I think I saw this crisp hundred-dollar bill fall out of your pocket.” He stuffed the bribe money into Blower's blazer pocket.

Blower had a huge grin on his face. He touched knuckles with Sherman.

I clenched my fists so hard, my
knees
hurt! “I can't let Sherman Oaks bribe his way to Most Popular Rotten Egg,” I told myself.

I knew my birthday party would win the day. But how could I get the guys to start planning it? Maybe I had to try a few other things first. Suddenly, I had an idea….

That night, Belzer was in my room, sitting at my desk, doing my homework. He does my homework every night. Good kid, Belzer.

Tonight he was writing a history report for me. He looked up from the laptop. “Bernie, how do you spell FBI?” he asked.

“Well…spell it the best way you can,” I said. “I've gotta talk to Feenman and Crench.”

I heard noises from across the hall. Loud, cracking sounds.

I hurried into the guys' room. “Dudes—what's up?
What's that cracking noise?”

“We got tired of doing The Stomp,” Crench said. “It hurt our feet too much. No one can walk.”

“So we've all switched to knuckle cracking,” Feenman said. He knotted his hands and cracked his knuckles really hard. I saw a bone poke through the skin on his middle finger.

That's
champion
knuckle cracking!

“No time for that, guys,” I said. “We have to get busy. You have to help me.”

CRAAAAACK.

Crench cracked his knuckles. Then his eyes bulged, and he let out a scream. “Oh, help!
Help
me!” He couldn't get his fingers untangled.

I had to get my pliers and pull them apart.

Crench retreated to his bunk and blew on his fingers.

“I do everything for you guys, right?” I said. “Everything. I'm always looking out for you. I even keep your money safe and sound for you. So now it's time for you to help
me
.”

“What do we have to do, Big B?” Feenman asked. He was pushing the bone back into his finger.

“Just show up after class tomorrow,” I said. “Get all the guys in the dorm. Meet me at the library after school.”

Feenman and Crench stared at me. “Bernie,” Crench said, “does our school have a
library
?”

“No one told us,” Feenman said.

From my room across the hall I heard Belzer shout: “Bernie, how do you spell PTA?”

The next afternoon was crisp and cool. A strong wind kept blowing my balloons from side to side. And the party streamers fluttered noisily from the tree behind the library.

The guys from my dorm came bopping up, led by Feenman and Crench.

“Yo—dudes! Let's get this party started!” I shouted.

“Party?” Crench asked. “Huh? Is
this
your birthday party?”

“No. No way,” I said. “This is my PRE-birthday party. It's the warm-up party. You know. To get
everybody pumped for the
real
party.”

They scratched their heads and stared at me.

“I've never been to a PRE-party,” Belzer said. “What do we do?”

“No worries,” I said. “What we do is, we
pretend
we're having a lot of fun.” I clapped my hands. “Everybody start cheering. Come on, dudes—big smiles!”

I stuck out my arms. “Feenman! Crench! Pick me up!” I shouted. “Carry me around on your shoulders. It's my birthday—right? Parade me around. Let's hear it, guys. Everybody cheer for Bernie B.! Make it look real! Bring tears to my eyes!”

Feenman and Crench hoisted me onto their shoulders. I pumped my fists in the air. “Let's hear it for ME!” I yelled. “Everybody cheer now! Let's make this the best PRE-party ever. Everybody smile into the camera!”

Balancing on my friends' shoulders, I turned to Jennifer Ecch. “Are you ready?”

She nodded. “Yes, I'm ready. Only one problem.”

“Problem?”

“I forgot my camera.”

I let out a sigh and slid to the ground. My friends started walking away, grumbling.

“Don't anybody move!” I shouted. “Freeze! Everybody, freeze! This is a party—remember? Nobody leaves.”

“Sorry, Honey Bunny,” The Ecch said. “My camera is lost. I think I left it somewhere.”

“Don't call me Honey Bunny,” I said. “Don't worry about it. No problem!”

I turned to Belzer. “Run back to the dorm. Get my camera. It's on my dresser. Hurry. Some of the balloons are blowing away. And Beast is eating all the streamers!”

Belzer took off.

“It's cold out here,” my friend Chipmunk complained. He was hugging himself and shivering. “Can't we go inside?”

“I have a nosebleed,” Nosebleed whined.

“These streamers are making me thirsty!” Beast growled with a mouth full of crepe paper.

“Nobody move,” I said. “This is gonna be a great PRE-party. You'll see.”

They all booed and groaned and muttered mean,
nasty things under their breath.

Bad attitude.

You've probably figured out what was up. I wanted Jennifer to take a bunch of pictures of the guys cheering me and carrying me around on their shoulders. A big celebration with balloons and streamers.

She takes the pictures to Blower. And he says, “Wow. I guess these pictures are proof—Bernie
is
the most popular dude in school.”

It
had
to convince him. We all know pictures don't lie—right?

A few minutes later Belzer came running back. Panting, he handed the camera to Jennifer.

“I'm ready, Honey Bunny,” she said. She licked my face. Then she raised the camera to her brown eye.

“Okay. Take two!” I cried. “Feenman! Crench! Get me up on your shoulders. Let's go, everyone! Party time! Look happy! Let's hear the cheers. Pump your fists! Party! Party! Make it look real!”

The cheers went up. The guys all grinned and waved and clapped. Feenman and Crench paraded
me back and forth as everyone went nuts.

Jennifer snapped shot after shot. She just kept clicking away.

We celebrated for at least twenty minutes. Jennifer took about a hundred shots.

Finally Feenman groaned. “Bernie, can I put you down? I've lost all feeling in my shoulder!”

“Me too!” Crench moaned. “My whole body is numb.”

“Cut!” I shouted, sliding to the ground. “Cut! Good work, everyone! Great PRE-party! Awesome! Thanks for coming! See you at the
real
party, which I know you are busy planning!”

My friends all took off, heading back to the dorm. Beast stayed to pop the balloons with his two front teeth.

I turned to Jennifer. “Good work,” I said. “Did you see those guys? Could there be any better proof of how popular I am?”

Jennifer rubbed her cheek against mine. “That's why you're my wubby-wubby,” she whispered.

Yuck.

“Never mind that wubby-wubby stuff,” I said.
“Get that film developed—fast. And take the shots to Blower.”

Jennifer stared at the camera. “Film?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Get it developed. I want Leif Blower to see it as soon as—”

“But—but—” Jennifer sputtered. “I thought your camera was a
digital
camera!”

“No
way
!” I said. “It's film.”

I grabbed Belzer by the front of his shirt. “Did you put film in the camera? Tell me you put film in the camera.”

He shook his head. “No, Big B. I can't tell you I put film in the camera…cuz I didn't.”

I slapped my forehead. “Why not?”

“You didn't tell me to.”

Jennifer opened the camera. We all stared inside.

No film.

“My bad,” Jennifer said. She grabbed my head with both hands and made a pouty face. “Bunny Breath, will you ever forgive me?”

“Jennifer, you're crushing my head into a raisin,” I said.

“Oops. Don't know my own strength.” She let go.
“What are we going to do now, Bunny Breath?”

“Don't panic,” I said, trying to stretch my face back into shape. “Don't anybody panic. There's always Plan B!”

“Plan B?” Jennifer asked. “What's Plan B?”

“Well…Plan B,” I said, “is thinking up what Plan B should be.”