“She wasn’t crazy,” Mr. P. said. “It was a hobby. We all have hobbies, right? For example, I like to collect my own toenail clippings. I have two thousand of them in a jar in my room. I give each one a name. Nothing strange about that.”
A hushed silence fell over the auditorium. Toenail clippings?
“One night Mrs. I.M. Pitiful decided that maybe Rotten School’s fourth, fifth, and sixth graders would like to stay out all night hunting rodents, too,” Mrs. P. said. “She decided it would be a girl-ask-boy rodent hunt. And that’s how the All-Nighter began.”
“It was a lot of fun,” her husband added. “Because no hands were allowed. You had to use your teeth.”
They both chuckled.
We all stared at them. No one made a sound.
Mr. Pocketlint blew his nose loudly again. Then for a few moments he studied what he had done in his handkerchief. “Of course, we don’t have a rodent hunt any longer,” he said. “The All-Nighter has changed a lot. But it’s still a girl-ask-boy party.”
Mrs. Pocketlint held up a long sheet of paper. “We have a list of rules you need to follow at the party,” she said, sniffing the air again. “The list is short, only one hundred and twelve rules, and I’d like to read them to you now.”
That was the signal for us to start talking and laughing, telling jokes, pushing one another, arm wrestling, and fist-fighting. We kept this up until the list of 112 rules had been read. I didn’t hear a single rule. I was too busy thinking about how I could prove to Jennifer that I was a total loser, unworthy of her.
And when I saw Mr. and Mrs. Pocketlint wheel a machine onstage, I realized I had my chance.
I saw my archenemy, that spoiled rich kid, Sherman Oaks, strut onto the stage. Sherman is the leader of Nyce House. He is tall and blond and good-looking, in an icky sort of way.
He’s so spoiled, he never looks in a mirror. He has someone else look in a mirror for him!
Sherman had a big, toothy grin on his face as he stepped up to the machine. The machine had a flat-screen monitor, a big speaker, and a microphone resting on its top.
“Dudes, you probably know what this is,” Sherman said. “But, of course, you’re not filthy rich like me, so you can’t afford one!”
Mrs. Pocketlint sniffed the air. “Just tell them what it is, Sherman,” she said.
“It’s a video karaoke machine!” Sherman announced. “We’re gonna use it for the All-Nighter.”
Everyone went nuts. Who doesn’t love video karaoke? Sherman Oaks was a hero!
“My parents bought this for me,” Sherman announced. “They like to spoil me rotten because then they don’t have to spend any time with me!”
Kids started to scream and shout.
“Do we have a volunteer?” Mrs. Pocketlint shouted.
I jumped to my feet. Perfect! This was my big chance! My chance to look like a total loser in front of Jennifer!
Chapter 12
TINKLE TINKLE
Don’t think it’s easy for the great Bernie B. to act like a klutz and a loser. I’ve been a winner all my life, but now I had to act, act, act.
I made my way up the stairs to the stage—and stumbled and tripped just to make myself look like a jerk. I flashed Sherman a grin as I stepped up to his machine.
“Ooh, can I try it, Sherman?” I asked, pretending to tremble and shake. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” I said. “Is it hard to do?”
“Go, Bernie!” a girl in the audience shouted.
Who was it? I hoped it wasn’t Jennifer.
“Go, Bernie! Go, Bernie!” some other kids started to chant.
I picked up the microphone. “Could you show me how it works?” I asked Sherman. “I’m not a good singer, but perhaps…”
Sherman grinned. “Anyone can do it, Bernie—even you.” He turned to the machine and clicked a few dials and buttons.
I pretended to be totally confused. “Do I press this button right here?” I pushed a red button, and a deafening squeal came out of the box.
“No! Don’t push that one!” Sherman cried.
“You mean this one?” I said. I pushed it again. Another high squeal that made everyone cover their ears.
“Don’t touch anything,” Sherman said.
“Then how is he going to learn?” Mrs. Pocketlint asked.
“Yes, how am I going to learn?” I said. “Do I turn this?” I reached into an opening on the side of the video screen. “Hey—my hand is stuck!” I cried.
I pretended I couldn’t get my hand out. I twisted and pulled. I pushed the red button again and made the machine squeal.
“Don’t touch that!” Sherman cried. He was starting to get steamed.
I heard kids laughing. Some kids still chanted, “Go, Bernie! Go, Bernie!” But now they were being funny. They didn’t mean it.
Jennifer, I hope you’re watching, I thought. I hope you see what a klutz I am. I hope you’re deciding right now that you can do better than me!
“Where do I find the songs?” I asked Sherman. “It’s so confusing. Do I look in here?”
And I stuck my head into the space between the video screen and the control box.
“Not there! No! Don’t do that!” Sherman screamed.
Kids were laughing and hooting.
“My head is stuck!” I cried. “Help me! I can’t get my head out!”
Sherman grabbed me by the shoulders and gave me a hard tug.
My head popped out—and the whole karaoke machine fell over and crashed to the floor. Tinkle tinkle. Glass flew everywhere. The video screen shattered into a million pieces.
“Oops,” I said. “Did I do that?”
I tiptoed off the stage. Kids were muttering and booing and hissing. I looked like a total jerk. But it was for a good cause.
I waited outside the auditorium with my fingers crossed. This had to work.
Kids started streaming out. The assembly was over. I saw April-May hurry over to Jennifer. I crept up behind them to listen.
“Do you see what a loser Bernie is?” April-May said. “See what a total klutz and jerk he is?”
Yes, yes, YES! You go, girl!
But Jennifer shook her head. “Just because Bernie isn’t mechanical doesn’t mean he’s a loser,” she said.
Huh?
“I think Bernie did that for ME,” Jennifer told April-May. “He knows I hate karaoke!”
I let out a long sigh. My body suddenly felt too heavy to stand. I sank to the ground.
Defeated again. Jennifer just wouldn’t give up on me.
What could I do to lose The Ecch?
I needed another idea.
I shut my eyes and thought hard. I thought till sweat poured down my face, and my whole body shook.
Yes! Another idea.
Bernie B. never runs out of ideas!
I know what will work, I decided. I’ll totally gross her out….
Chapter 13
EGG BARF
I suddenly remembered the hard-boiled egg-eating contest. Every year I bet on Beast to gobble down the most eggs. But this year was gonna be different.
This year Bernie B. was going to enter the contest.
I made sure Jennifer and Sharonda knew about it. I wanted them to be there.
“Yo, dudes!” I called to my friends as I met them in the little alley behind the Student Center. We hold the contest there so we won’t get caught.
I mean, it probably isn’t good for you to eat fifty eggs in three minutes.
The contestants stood against a brick wall. Each one had a helper—someone to keep handing him eggs. I saw Joe Sweety, the big, mean kid from Nyce House. He was chewing on a football, warming up his jaw. (I told you he was big and mean!)
Feenman was there, cracking open eggs for Beast. Beast warmed up by eating the shells!
I picked up a bucket of eggs and moved next to them. I waved to my friend Crench. “Dude, get over here. Start cracking eggs for me.”
He squinted at me. “But aren?
??t you betting on Beast?”
“This year I’m betting on Bernie B.,” I said. “There’s gonna be a new champ this year! Better bet on me, dudes—I’m HUNGRY!”
Sherman Oaks stepped up to start the contest. He raised a gold whistle to his lips. “When I blow the whistle, start eating,” he said.
But Jennifer and Sharonda weren’t there yet. I had to stall. “Sherman, is that whistle real gold?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. My parents sent it to me. It cost five hundred dollars at Tiffany’s. They know that silver whistles give me chapped lips.”
I fingered the whistle. “How does it work?” I asked. “Do you blow into it? Or is this a digital one?” I had my eye out for the girls.
Sherman groaned. “Are you stalling, Bernie? If you don’t want to eat eggs, step out!”
I saw Sharonda and Jennifer slip into the alley. “Me, stall?” I said. “Why would I stall? I can eat eggs with my eyes closed.”
The girls came closer. Jennifer waved a big paw at me. “Honey Breath!” she called. “I’m here, Honey Breath!”
“Let’s start,” I said. “I’m HUNGRY!”
Sherman blew the whistle.
Joe, Beast, and I began shoving eggs into our mouths. Ucch. I tried to chew. It tasted like pillow stuffing.
I began sliding them down my throat without chewing. Two…three…Could I manage four? I had to!
Next to me, Beast was shoving eggs into his open mouth three at a time. He made a glug, glug sound as egg after egg slid down his throat. Next to him, Joe Sweety had egg smeared all over his face. He was half finished with his first bucket.
Crench handed me another egg. I pushed it into my mouth. The yolk stuck to my tongue. I shoved it down with another egg. Whooooah. My stomach started to bubble and churn.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. But it was for a good cause!
Sharonda had her arms crossed in front of her. She rolled her eyes. “You guys are totally disgusting,” she said. She turned to Jennifer. “Could it be any more disgusting than this?”
Just as she said that, I bent over and started to HURL my guts out.
A waterfall of yellow egg barf gushed from my open mouth. Wet lumps of egg poured out my nose.
The smelly egg barf puddled over my shoes. It stuck to my cheeks and my chin.
When I finally stopped heaving it up, I raised my head and gave Jennifer a big, yellow grin!
This has to work! I told myself. I’m totally gross and disgusting. This has got to turn Jennifer off.
I pulled a chunk of egg barf from my nose and gazed at her.
“Bernie is a total competitor,” she said to Sharonda. “He always plays to win.”
“But, Jen—” Sharonda started to protest.
The Ecch smiled at me. “I really admire someone who takes on a new challenge,” she said. She stepped up and began tenderly wiping the gunk off my face with her school scarf.
I picked up the egg bucket and slammed it down over my head.
What do I have to do to prove to Jennifer that I’m PITIFUL?
Chapter 14
BA-BOOM! BA-BOOM!
I was acting like a loser for so long, I started to feel like one!
Come on, dude. Who is the greatest schemer and plotter on earth? Do I have to answer that? So why couldn’t I think of a scheme or plot to get rid of The Ecch?
Defeated. Was Bernie B. actually defeated?
I couldn’t stand it. During the day I walked around campus with my head down, staring at my shoes. At night I sat for hours gazing at the two big cartons on my floor.
The flashlights. The sweatshirts. They were gonna make me RICH! I had to get to the party. But NOT with Jennifer—with April-May.
Sigh, sigh. Day after day I moped and sighed. My friends weren’t used to seeing me like this. I know they missed my funny jokes, my winning smile, my great laugh. But what could I do?
Then, one gray afternoon I was surprised to see April-May June come running across the Great Lawn. “Hi, Bernie. How are you?” She flashed me a smile that sent me stumbling back across the grass.
“Uh…good,” I said. My legs started shaking. My chest fluttered. Was she actually being NICE to me?
“Bernie, would you go to the All-Nighter with me?” April-May asked.
“Whuh-whuh-whuh-whuh,” I replied. My lips didn’t work. They suddenly felt like flapping, rubber balloons.
“I did plan to ask Sherman Oaks,” she said. “But you’re so much cuter.”
BA-BOOM! BA-BOOM! BA-BOOM!
My heart was pounding so hard, the buttons on my school blazer popped off. Did April-May finally realize that she was my girlfriend?
“Yes,” I said. “Of course I’ll go to the All-Nighter with you.”
“GOTCHA!” a husky voice cried. And Jennifer Ecch jumped out from behind a bush. She let out an angry growl and shook both meaty fists at me.
April-May turned to Jennifer. “See?” she said. “I told you Bernie was a creep! Now do you finally believe me?”
Jennifer growled again. “Yes, I believe you,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Bernie, how could you DO this to me? You’re a total rat! You promised to go with me. Then you said YES to April-May! I heard every word!”
A trick. I was tricked by the two girls. I took several steps back. “Don’t get angry,” I said. “Please—don’t sit on me and crush all my bones to powder.”
Jennifer’s face turned bright red. “How could you do this? How could you break your promise? You traitor! I’m not taking you to the All-Nighter!” she screamed.
“You-you’re not?” I stammered.
“No way. I’m taking back my invitation. I’m going to ask Wes Updood instead,” Jennifer said. “Sharonda told me that Wes has a crush on me.”
Her size-fourteen shoes pounded the ground as she spun away and hurried off to find Wes.
Is this REALLY happening? I asked myself. I watched Jennifer kick up grass as she ran.
She’s going to ask Wes? Did my plan actually work after all? Am I free? Totally FREE?
And does this mean I’m going to the party with April-May?
Chapter 15
“EVERYBODY JOIN IN!”
“Of course you’re not going with me!” April-May said. She tossed back her head and laughed in my face for nearly ten minutes. “The whole thing was a trick, Bernie. And you fell for it.”
She laughed again—until her face turned blue and she had to stop. “I already asked Sherman Oaks,” she said, gasping for air. “Bye.” She gave me a little wave and trotted off toward the girls’ dorm.
Well, I was disappointed that April-May didn’t want to ask me. But hey, no biggie. I knew a dozen girls were waiting for me. No complaints. Getting rid of The Ecch was a major WIN!
“Sweet!” I cried, clapping my hands together. “Totally sweet!”
I ran all the way to Rotten House, flashing a thumbs-up to every kid I passed. I rushed into my room. “Belzer!” I screamed. “Get in here!”
Belzer came bouncing in from his room across the hall. “What’s up, Big B?”
“Open the cartons,” I said. “Dust off the flashlights. We’re gonna cash in!”
Belzer picked up a flashlight and clicked it five or six times. “But, Bernie, they don’t work!” he cried.
“They work fine,” I said. “You just have to slap ’em a few times!”
Later, I saw Jennifer and Wes Updood having lunch in the Dining Hall. Jennifer sat really close to Wes and wrapped an arm around his neck. I think she meant it to be friendly. But it looked like a headlock on a TV wrestling smack-down.
She was calling him Honey Cakes and Lamby Breath. Can you imagine calling the coolest dude in school “Lamby Breath”?
When she planted loud, smoochy kisses up and down Wes’s arm, I had to laugh. “Bernie, you’re free!” I told myself. “You’re a genius!” I wanted to give MYSELF some smoochy kisses!
Jennifer jumped to her feet. “What can I bring
you for lunch, Hot Face?” she shouted.
“Highway 495, exit left onto the interstate,” Wes said.
Jennifer nodded. “Do you want ketchup with that?”
“Can you stare into the sun at night?” Wes replied.
“Okay. You got it,” Jennifer said. She hurried to the lunch line.
My mouth dropped open. Did she really understand what Wes wanted?
I couldn’t believe it. Wes and Jennifer were perfect for each other!
Chapter 16
GOOD NEWS, BAD NEWS
The days flew by. The All-Nighter was just a week away. I had good news and bad news.
The good news: Jennifer clung to Wes Updood like a mop on a dust bunny. She followed him everywhere, smothered him with smoochy kisses—and tackled him to the ground whenever he tried to get away.
What a hoot!
Wes was trapped—and I was free.
And that’s the bad news: I was free. No girl had asked me to the party. I had two cartons of stuff to sell. How could I unload it if I didn’t have a date?
Of course, I still hoped April-May would come to her senses and ditch Sherman. But I couldn’t count on that.
Why weren’t girls lined up to ask me? I never like to brag. But I can’t tell a lie. Who is the most popular dude at Rotten School? Answer: Bernie B.
Suddenly I knew what the problem was! I just had to let the girls know I was free….
I ran into Flora and Fauna, the Peevish twins, outside the library. I flashed them my most adorable grin, the one with the dimples.
“Don’t fight over me, girls,” I said. “I know you both want me for the All-Nighter. But I don’t want to start a battle between sisters. Why don’t we just flip a coin?”
“We already asked Feenman and Crench,” Flora said.
I patted their heads. “Don’t feel bad. I know you’re disappointed. Maybe next time.”
Sharonda Davis was in the Student Center, playing Ping-Pong with a red-haired girl named Georgia Pines. Sharonda is a tough Ping-Pong player. Her serves flew twenty feet off the table. And poor Georgia had to chase after the ball.