The Heinie Prize (7 page)

Feenman, Crench, and I hurried back to Rotten House. We were feeling good. We saw Sherman trying to show off his loser trophy to April-May June and some other girls. But they weren't interested.

Belzer was king, thanks to Bernie B.

“How do I do it, dudes?” I asked my friends. We slapped knuckles again. “How do I do it?”

“Pure genius?” Feenman asked.

I nodded. “You got
that
right!”

“Now Belzer won't have to leave school,” Crench said. “He can go back to waiting on you hand and foot.”

“You got
that
right!” I said again.

We marched into our little room. I picked up the letter from Belzer's parents. “Say good-bye to this!” I said.

I raised the letter high. I started to rip it in two and throw it away. But I stopped.

“Whoa, dudes!”

I stared at the handwriting.

The beautiful, perfect handwriting.

“Where did I see this?” I asked my friends. “I just saw this handwriting somewhere.”

And then I let out a hoarse cry. “It's SHERMAN'S!” I screamed. “SHERMAN wrote the letter! Belzer's parents DIDN'T WRITE IT!”

I took several deep breaths. I wanted to scream and scream. But Bernie B. never loses control.

A trick. A vicious prank. The letter was a fake—an evil prank that ruined my life for
days
!

Feenman studied the letter. “Sherman got you good
this
time,” he said. “What are you going to do?”

“I don't know,” I said. “I have to think about it when I'm calmer. I—”

Belzer burst into the room, wearing his crown.
He pushed a white shirt into my face. “Bernie,” he said, “this shirt you washed for me. Look at it. You didn't get the stain out. Go wash it again.”

I shoved it away. “Huh? Remember, Belzer? You burped up potato salad all down the front? That stain won't come out.”

He pushed the shirt back in my face.

 

“Try again,” he said.

I tossed the shirt on the floor. “Forget the shirt,” I said. “It's time to move my stuff back into my room.”

Belzer stared at me. “You're joking, right?” he sneered. “It's
my
room now, Bernie. The King of the Campus doesn't
share a room. That's the king's room. So stay out!”

The king stomped into his room.

The three of us whimpered in shock. “Who
was
that?”

We didn't have time to think about it. A few seconds later, Belzer drop-kicked my fat bulldog, Gassy, into our room. “Keep that stink bomb away from the king!” he shouted.

“But…but…,” I sputtered. “Belzer, it's time for you to take him for his four o'clock walk.”

“I don't walk animals,” Belzer said, his fat nose in the air. “I have to stay in my room and think outstanding thoughts.”

He slammed the door in my face.

I turned to Feenman and Crench. “He'll get over it,” I said. “In a few hours he'll remember he's an idiot.”

They both shook their heads. Crench put his hand on my shoulder. “Bernie,” he said softly, “you've created a MONSTER!”

Crench never spoke truer words.

The next morning I was talking to April-May June on our way to class. April-May is my girlfriend, only she doesn't know it yet. In fact, she barely speaks to me.

“April-May, would you like to watch the eclipse of the moon with me tonight?” I asked.

She stared at me with those stunning blue eyes. “There
is
no eclipse tonight,” she said.

“I know,” I said. “But we could wait for one.”

Suddenly, Belzer appeared. He tugged April-May
away. “The king doesn't want you talking to his girlfriend,” he barked.

I laughed. “Excuse me? Girlfriend? You're joking, right?”

April-May shrugged. “Well, face it, Bernie. Belzer
is
the most outstanding kid on campus.” She walked off arm in arm with him.

I couldn't believe it. April-May and Belzer?

I followed them across the lawn. We came to Wes Updood. He was sitting under a tree, practicing his saxophone.

Belzer stuck his fist in the sax's horn. “Do you have a permit?” he asked Wes. “You need a music permit from the King of the Campus if you want to play outdoors.”

Wes couldn't believe it. He had to give Belzer five dollars for a music permit.

Belzer shoved the money into his pocket. “If you see any other musicians,” he said to Wes, “tell 'em to pay up. If you wanna swing, you pay the king!”

I couldn't stand it. I ran to find Feenman and Crench.

“Where were you guys?” I asked. “I couldn't find you this morning.”

Crench shook his head. “We had to go see Headmaster Upchuck,” he said. “We didn't make our beds this morning. And Belzer
snitched
on us.”

“Belzer says all dorm rules must be followed,” Feenman told me. “He says the king must enforce every single rule.”

I slapped my forehead. “What am I going to do? King Belzer is out of control!”

Across the lawn, I saw Sherman Oaks standing next to a pile of trash. I ran over to him. “How could you write that phony letter?” I asked angrily. “Do you know what you've done?”

“It was a joke,” Sherman said. “I was just trying to shake things up.”

“Well, you shook things up,” I snarled.

Sherman sighed. “Tell me about it. In the Dining Hall last night, Belzer grabbed the last slice of pizza off my tray. He said the king gets all the pizza he wants.”

“Nice,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“After dinner Belzer climbed on my three-thousand-dollar bike,” Sherman moaned. “You know. The one with the gold handlebars. And he rode away.”

“But Belzer doesn't know how to ride a bike,” I said.

“Tell me about it,” Sherman said again. “See that heap of trash over there? That's my bike!”

I stared at the twisted, mangled mess. “He totaled it,” I muttered.

“Everyone hates Belzer now,”

Sherman said. “He snitches on kids. And he makes them buy five-dollar permits for just about everything. I had to buy a comb permit to comb my perfect, blond hair this morning.”

“We have to stop him,” I said.

Sherman stared at me. “How?”

“You and I have to w-w-w-w…” I couldn't get the words out. Too painful. I couldn't say them.

I took a deep breath and started again.

“We have to w-w-w…we have to WORK TOGETHER!”

Sherman and I walked back and forth across the Great Lawn, hatching a plan. It was a nasty, evil plan. But we both agreed that Belzer deserved it.

That afternoon Belzer returned to Rotten House to find his room cleaned out. Totally empty.

“Hey—!” He scratched his red hair. “Bernie, I told you—this is the king's room now. Bring back my stuff.”

“Not my idea,” I said. “Sherman cleaned out your room.”

“Huh? Sherman? Why?” He scratched his hair more.

Sherman appeared, just as we'd planned. “The king can't live in a shabby pit like Rotten House,” he told Belzer. “All this dirt and dust and clutter? Guys playing tackle football in the hall? Loud music?”

Sherman put his arm around Belzer's shoulders. “Come with me, King Belzer. You have to room at Nyce House, where it's clean and quiet. And you can live like a king!”

Belzer took one last glance at his room. “You're right,” he said. “This place
is
a pit. I don't belong here.”

Sherman grinned at him. “You and I are going to be good buddies. I know how to treat a king the way he deserves!”

As he led Belzer away, Sherman turned and flashed me a thumbs-up.

So far, so good.

The next morning I crept out of Rotten House at dawn. I never get up before the sun. The darkness makes my skin itch. But I knew today it was going to be worth it.

I sneaked across the silent, empty campus to the back of Nyce House and climbed in through an open window. I knew where to find Belzer. In the Commons Room, with Sherman and a bunch of other guys.

I moved silently down the hall. Yes! There they were. Sherman had the list in his hand. The list of activities we had dreamed up for King Belzer.

I hunched down in the doorway and watched.

Activity One: Exercise Workout at Dawn. Poor Belzer. He started to sweat after one deep knee bend. Sherman worked him hard. Push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, and things I don't know the names of. Painful. Painful.

After about ten minutes, Belzer flopped around on the floor, going
urk urk
like a seal. Three guys had to carry him into the meeting room.

Activity Two: Quizzing One Another on Topics from the Newspaper. I had to giggle. King Belzer didn't know
anything
. “Let's discuss our leader's speech last night,” Sherman said.

Belzer stared at him. “Our leader? You mean SpongeBob?”

“SpongeBob isn't our leader,” Joe Sweety told Belzer. “SpongeBob isn't real.”

Belzer's mouth dropped open. “He
isn't
?”

The guys kept on asking him questions about the news. Belzer pretended to have a coughing fit.

Next activity for King Belzer: Singing in a Barbershop Quartet. It was totally gross. I covered my ears.

Next on the list: Sherman made all the guys read from the U.S. Constitution out loud. Belzer had trouble sounding out the words. He muttered to himself, totally embarrassed.

Then Sherman brought in a carton of accordions, and they took accordion lessons for an hour. Belzer pulled too hard and ripped his accordion in half.

“Can we stop now?” he begged, his whole body shaking. “Are we done?”

“Just starting, dude,” Sherman said, grinning. “You're one of us now. This is what we do every morning.”

Next came posture lessons. Then, Fun with Algebra Equations. Then choir practice. Then origami. Belzer couldn't get the hang of origami. After a few minutes, his hands were covered in paper cuts.

Belzer looked like a dried-up SpongeBob, and it was only eight o'clock! According to the list Sherman and I had dreamed up, Belzer had two more hours of wonderful Nyce House activities.

I sneaked back outside. I couldn't help it. I opened my mouth and shouted out a loud victory whoop. I cheered myself all the way back to the dorm.

I found Feenman and Crench carrying my stuff back into my room. Crench carried my desk on his back. He was grunting and groaning.

“You're gonna miss Belzer,” he groaned. “Who else is going to bring you breakfast in bed, dress you, walk your dog, and carry you piggyback to class?”

“Don't worry about Belzer,” I said. “He'll be back.”

I checked my watch. “Synchronize your watches, dudes,” I said. “Belzer will be back here by noon.”

They checked their watches.

“Now, get moving,” I said. “Bring my bed back in here. Careful with the mattress. It's a pillow-top. Don't wrinkle it!”