Punk'd and Skunked (6 page)

Did we win big-time at the poker game? Does a bear barf up its dinner in the woods? Does a guppy take his vacation in a fishbowl?

Of COURSE we won big-time.

I know. I know. I said we weren't going to play. But Bernie B. just couldn't say no.

Feldspar, Corky, and Nicki showed up to play. Belzer had a stomachache from swallowing a chicken leg whole at dinner. So it was just Feenman, Crench, and me. We found a table in a quiet corner of the game room.

Check it out. This was not like the game room at Rotten School—two card tables, a candy vending machine, and a Ping-Pong table.

The game room at this school looked like a huge electronics store. Every video and arcade game you could think of—and big flat-screen monitors to play them on. I saw pinball machines and a bowling alley, Skee-Ball, and a basketball court.

That's
a game room! How did these rich dudes ever get to class?

Feldspar shuffled the cards. “So, you guys have never played poker before?” he asked.

“Is it anything like Go Fish?” I asked.

“A little,” he said.

“Gambling! I feel so
bold
!” Corky said. “Maybe I'm starting a new Pigge family tradition tonight!”

Feldspar piled a big stack of poker chips onto the card table.

“I've never played with those little plastic things,” I said. “Is it hard?”

“Let's keep it simple,” Feldspar said. “We'll just use the dollar chips.” He started to deal the cards.

“Is it good to have a five?” Corky asked.

“What does a two count for?” Nicki asked.

My heart was pounding. I didn't want to do it. I knew I should be back at the dorm, dreaming up an invention. But my fingers were itching! I had to play. And I had to win. It's in my blood.

I'll skip the gruesome details. Two hours later I had a big grin on my face and two tall stacks of chips in front of me.

The three Preppy Prep Prepsters didn't look happy. They were moaning and making soft, whimpering sounds. I saw teardrops on their polo shirts.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “Wouldn't you know it? I had all the luck tonight.” I counted the chips. “You owe me twenty dollars each,” I said. “Pay up.”

The three of them pulled out their wallets.

“Do you have change for a hundred?” Feldspar asked.

“Huh?” I stared at the hundred dollar bill in his hand. “No. I…uh…”

“The smallest I have is a five hundred,” Corky said. “Can you change it?”

“I just have credit cards,” Nicki said. “I never carry cash.”

Whoa. She's in fourth grade, and she only carries credit cards?!

“I don't have change,” I said. I forced a smile to my face. “Besides, I'd never take your money. We were just playing for fun—right?”

“We can donate the money to charity,” Feldspar said. “How about the Bow Tie Fund?”

I sighed. “Yes,” I said weakly. “Bow Ties for the poor. Such a good cause.”

They put their money and their credit cards back in their wallets and hurried away.

Feenman, Crench, and I couldn't move. We stayed hunched at the table, staring sadly at the piles of chips.

“We got nothing,” Crench muttered. “Zero.
Nada
.”

“We've been punk'd and skunked,” Feenman said.

I looked up and saw Alli and Feldspar running back to us. “By the way, guys,” Alli said. “I hope you downloaded the schedule. Round One of the Make-a-Great-Invention contest is first thing tomorrow morning.”

I started to gasp, but I held it in and made it look
like a burp. “Round One?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yes. The judges will look at all five inventions. The kids whose invention comes in last will be
out
. They'll have to go home.”

“But we just got here!” Feenman cried.

Feldspar grinned at us. “Hope I didn't keep you guys up too late,” he said. And he winked.

Feldspar did it deliberately, I realized. He kept us here playing cards to keep us from working on our invention.

Clever. The guy was as clever as someone else I knew—ME.

We really
had
been punk'd and skunked!

Time for Bernie B. to give a pep talk. I paced back and forth in my dorm room. “Okay, guys,” I said. “I know it's already two in the morning. But we're gonna stay up all night and build a fabulous invention. Right?”

No answer.

Feenman and Crench were leaning against each other, asleep on the couch. Belzer lay flat on his back on the floor, snoring away.

“Bad attitude, guys,” I said. I shook them awake. “After tomorrow, only four schools will be left in the
contest. And we want to be one of them. So start thinking.”

Belzer sat up and yawned. “How about an invention that helps you sleep?” he moaned. He dropped back onto the floor.

I shook all three of them some more. I tickled them. I slapped their cheeks. I put ice cubes down their backs.

I work hard for my guys.

Finally I pulled them to their feet. “It's for your own good,” I said. “You want to be looking cool on MTV-6, don't you?”

They nodded.

“Start thinking,” I said. “If we get a good idea, we can catch a few hours of sleep.”

“I've got an awesome idea,” Feenman said. He grabbed the flat-screen TV on the dresser. “We take this to the contest and say we invented it.”

“Feenman, go back to sleep,” I said.

He blinked several times. “How about a shirt you can wear on your head?”

“How about you go back to sleep?” I said.

“Bernie, how about shoes with an alarm in them?
You know. Like a car alarm. In case someone tries to steal your shoes?”

“Feenman, does your head feel hot?” I said. “I think you've overheated your brain.”

He felt his forehead. “You think so?”

Crench snapped his fingers. “I got one, Big B! It's a toothbrush, see. But it has a brush on
both
ends. That way, you can brush both sides of your mouth at once.”

I patted Crench's shoulder. “You can go back to sleep, too.”

Belzer was already asleep.

I knew it. I knew it would come down to my brilliant brain.

Time for me to come up with something awesome and save the day for me and my good buddies.

Think, Bernie…think…
think.
…

YAWWWWWWWWN.

When I woke up, it was 8:20 the next morning.

We had ten minutes. Ten minutes to get cleaned up, changed, make an invention, and get to the science lab for Round One.

“Settle down, people. People! People! Settle down.”

Mr. Spittup, the contest judge, was trying to get everyone quiet. He was a young guy, with perfect wavy brown hair, thick eyebrows over green eyes, a flashy smile, an excellent tan, and a silver ring in one earlobe. He wore a white shirt open at the neck over straight-legged jeans.

The kids in the contest gathered in groups around the tables in the science lab. A mobile of the solar system planets hung low over our heads.

Belzer wasn't watching where he was going and
smacked his head on Neptune.

“Settle down, people. Are all five schools here?” Mr. Spittup said. “I can't
wait
to see what you've come up with.”

“Neither can I,” I muttered.

How did this happen?
I glanced around the room. The other four schools all had interesting inventions with them. And my buddies and I stood there with…with…nothing.

I needed an idea. I could hear my brain plopping weakly inside my skull.
PLOP…PLOP…PLOP…
The inside of my head felt like a swamp this morning. No ideas could rise out of the muck.

“Good luck to everyone. Let's start with our friends from Poly-Wannacracker,” Mr. Spittup said. “Show us your invention.”

Nicki Toros smiled and patted her machine. “This will change the sport of bubble blowing forever,” she said. “And…no more children crying when their bubbles pop. Because these bubbles
can't
pop.”

Mr. Spittup nodded. “Tough bubbles,” he muttered. “Tough bubbles. I like it!”

Next, the kids from Baked Potato Chips Middle
School showed off their air-driven elevator. “You just blow into this pipe, and the elevator car goes up one hundred floors.”

“Well done,” Mr. Spittup said. “Very clever. Very clever.” He breathed into the pipe, and we all watched the elevator rise.

“Next let's hear from our friends here at Preppy Prep Prep. What did you bring us?”

A tall, skinny blond boy stepped forward, bobbing his head. “Yo, yo,” he said. “Yo. We'll take first prize now if you'd like to save some time, yo.”

Everyone laughed.

Mr. Spittup squinted at their invention. “It looks like a paper airplane,” he said.

“Yo, it
is
a paper airplane,” the kid replied.

“It's radio-controlled, yo. It can fly across the ocean if the wind is right,” he said. “Yo.”

“I'm impressed,” Spittup said. “And what is the paper airplane made of?”

“Paper,” the kid answered. “Yo.”

Spittup rubbed his chin. “Interesting…”

Was I next? My throat felt tight. My hands started to shake. My brain was gurgling and plopping. I had nothing. NOTHING.

“Our fourth school is the Whussup School,” Spittup announced. “Whussup with you guys? Ha-ha.”

I let out a sigh of relief. I still had a few seconds to dream up something.

Spittup moved to the Whussup table. “What did you invent?” he asked.

A cute girl with a long, brown ponytail and brown glasses held up some kind of brush. “Our invention is a new kind of toothbrush,” she said.
“See? It has a brush at both ends. This way, you can brush both sides of your mouth at once.”

“Ouch!” I shouted because Crench elbowed me in the ribs.

“They stole my idea!” he whispered. “I
knew
it was an awesome idea!”

No time to answer Crench. Spittup was smiling at us now and walking over to our table. “And now, last but not least, let's see what our Rotten School friends have brought us,” he said. I gulped. I gulped again. I choked for a minute or two. Stalling. Stalling…

“Well…” I said.

I could hear my swampy brain going
PLOP…PLOP…PLOP.

“I know you Rotten School guys have come up with something clever,” Mr. Spittup said. “Please share it with us.”

I cleared my throat. “Well…uh…”

I gritted my teeth, trying to get the great Bernie B. brain unswamped.
Come on, Bernie, you can fake it. You can always fake it!

I took a deep breath. “We've been inspired by your school, sir,” I started. “Uh…Being here has helped us to clear our minds and think deeply about our invention.”

Sweat poured down my face. My knees knocked together. How long could I stall?

“Just show us your invention,” Spittup said.

“Yes, our invention,” I said. “You've been so kind to us. We want to show you our very best work. Uh…We put many hours of thought and labor into our invention…”

I glanced over at Feenman. He was stressed, too. He had a clump of dust the size of a softball in one hand. He was pulling at it, stretching it out.

“This is our invention,” I said. I grabbed the dust ball from Feenman and held it high so everyone could see it. “You know how little kids like to make dust bunnies? Well, we call our invention
Instant Dust
. See? You can model it into any kind of animal you want.”

I twisted the dust ball into a little bunny.

Some kids oohed and aahed. My three buddies grinned proudly, as if they'd been working on the invention for weeks.

“Clever. Very clever,” Mr. Spittup said. He took
the dust from me and twisted it around for a few minutes. “Look! I made a cat!”

He handed it back to me. “Very clever,” he said again. “Instant Dust. I don't know how you ever came up with that.”

“Just pure brainpower, sir,” I said. I mopped the sweat off my face with a shirtsleeve.

Mr. Spittup paced back and forth in front of us. “I knew I'd have a tough time judging today,” he said. “I'm sorry that only four schools can go on to the finals tomorrow. And we will sadly have to say good-bye to one school today.”

He walked around from table to table. “Let me check out your inventions one more time,” he said.

He worked the bubble machine and made some beautiful plastic bubbles. He blew into the pipe and sent the elevator shooting up.

At the PPP table, he fiddled with the radio controls and sent the paper airplane flying back and forth across the science lab. Then he picked up the clump of dust from my hand and squeezed it a few times. “Clever,” he muttered. “Totally clever.”

Finally he tested the two-sided toothbrush. He
pushed it into his mouth and moved it up and down. After a few seconds, he started to scream:

It took everyone awhile to realize the toothbrush was stuck in his mouth. Finally two kids rushed forward and pulled with all their might.

The brush flew out with a spray of blood. Mr. Spittup's gums were bleeding and his lip was cut.

Mr. Spittup mopped his mouth with a wad of tissues. “I think I know which school will be heading home,” he said. “You kids with the stupid toothbrush from Whussup School. Whussup with you? You're outta here! Go pack your bags!”

We kids from the other four schools all cheered and jumped up and down and slapped high fives and touched knuckles. I watched the Whussup kids slump out of the room with their heads down.

I shook my head. “They just didn't have a good idea,” I told my buddies. “Not like us.”

I held up the dust clump—but a gust of wind from an open window blew it away. “Belzer,” I said, “collect more dust. We've got a winner here!”

“Who invented dust?” Belzer asked. “That's a good invention! You see it everywhere!”

I patted Belzer on the head. “Take it easy, Belzer,” I said. “Just get a nice big hunk of dust for the finals tomorrow.”

I hurried to the door.

“Bernie, where are you going?” Crench called. “Don't you want to celebrate our victory?”

“No time,” I said. “Feldspar Pyrite invited me to a croquet game. I think he might want to make a little friendly bet on it. That's how I'm gonna celebrate. I'm gonna take his money!”

“But, Bernie—” Crench called. “Have you ever played croquet in your life?”

“How hard could it be?” I said. “You hit something with something—right? Easy!”

Little did I realize I was about to be punk'd and skunked in a big way!