by R. L. Stine
Some of the Cannibal players were still picking themselves up off the ground. It took a while to get things started again.
When the game finally continued, everyone could see that the Cannibals didn’t stand a chance. My secret weapon exploded all over the field. Jennifer ran and tackled and creamed everyone in her path.
The Fighting Apples won the game by twenty-one points.
Can you imagine the excitement?
Our school is a hundred years old. And this was the first football game we’d ever won! We’d lost 1,500 straight games. But the losing streak had finally ended.
The players were so happy, we tried to carry Jennifer off the field on our shoulders. But we couldn’t lift her. So Jennifer carried me off the field. Then we all jumped in the air and screamed at the top of our lungs.
Coach Bunz came rumbling over to us, his stomach bouncing in front of him. He had a big smile on his face.
“Way to go!” he told Jennifer. He slapped her on the back. He shouldn’t have done that. He broke several fingers.
“I’m glad you like my secret weapon, sir,” I said. “I don’t want to take all the credit for the win. But I think I made the right choice here. Of course, I’ll share the credit with Jennifer. I mean, she had something to do with our win, too.”
Coach Bunz ignored me. He walked off with Jennifer. “You’ve got to play to win,” he told her. “Showing up is the most important thing. Hit the line hard. You’ve got to see the whole field at once. It’s a team game. Contribute. Just focus and contribute.”
Jennifer turned back to me. “What is he talking about?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Beats me. But the man really knows his football.”
Laughing and cheering, my teammates trotted into the locker room. Jennifer came running up to me. “Bernie, that was so exciting!” she gushed. She grabbed my hand and started to plant smoochy kisses all over it.
“Down, girl, down!” I cried.
I pulled my hand free and wiped it dry on my shirt. “No smoochy hand kissing. That’s on page twenty-three. Didn’t you read the rule book?”
She smiled at me. “Remember, Sweet Knees, you promised if we win the championship, you’ll come to my Homemaker class? And you’ll let me measure you for ten sweaters?”
Ha-ha. Win the championship? Fat chance! We just won our first game in one hundred years! Forget about the championship, I thought. That’s science fiction!
“Know what I’m going to put on each sweater?” Jennifer asked, pinching my cheek. “They’re all going to say ‘Bernie Loves Jen’ inside a big red heart. Nice?”
“Nice,” I said. Ha-ha. Fat chance.
“Tell you what,” I told her. “If we win the State Championship, I’ll help you pick out the yarn! Then I’ll model all ten sweaters in front of the whole school!”
Chapter 11
BIG NEWS FROM APRIL-MAY
On Saturday, we played the Mercy Academy Mad Dogs. They looked terrifying—and some of them actually foamed at the mouth.
I knew we didn’t stand a chance.
Before the game, Feenman and Crench helped me pad my uniform with big slabs of foam rubber. The foam rubber made it hard to walk or move my arms. But at least when I hit the dirt, I wouldn’t feel it.
My teammates didn’t want Bernie B. to feel any pain.
To my surprise, a crowd showed up on the field to watch the game. “Go, Jennifer!” I heard a girl shout.
And I heard two other kids chanting, “Ecch! Ecch! Ecch!”
Weird. Were they cheering for Jennifer? Or did they have something stuck in their throats?
Well, we gave them something to shout about.
Jennifer stampeded over the Mad Dogs like a…like a mad dog! She still didn’t understand the rules. She ran in every direction and tackled anyone who came near. In the second quarter, I saw her tackle a tree!
Beast showed Jennifer how to head-butt—his favorite move—and she started head-butting everyone in sight! Then she and Beast started head-butting each other. We had to pull them apart so the game could continue.
I tossed Jennifer a pass. She didn’t know what to do with it. So she head-butted the ball to Feenman—and he ran for a touchdown! “I like this!” Feenman shouted.
Suddenly we were acting like a team! Beast stopped grazing on the grass long enough to block. Feenman and Crench didn’t want to look bad in front of a girl, so they started catching my passes. Even I ran for a touchdown, with Jennifer head-butting everyone in my path.
We won 45 to 0.
The Rotten School crowd went wild, leaping in the air and shouting, “Ecch! Ecch! Ecch!” The cheer rolled over the field.
The Mad Dogs slumped back onto their school bus, whimpering and trembling.
Two victories in a row. Am I a football genius or what?
Later, I was walking across the Great Lawn, feeling awesome, making up some cheers about me—when Sherman Oaks appeared.
“Dude, I just won my soccer game,” he said. “We slaughtered them two to nothing.”
I started to tell him about my football game. But he pushed a ball into my face. “Check out my new soccer ball.”
He rubbed it over my nose and forehead. “Go ahead—feel it, Bernie. Soft, huh? It’s made out of grebe skin.”
I squinted at the ball. “Sherman, what’s a grebe?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some kind of grebe, I guess.”
“Did you kick the winning goal with it?” I asked.
“No way,” Sherman said. “I wouldn’t kick this ball. It’s too valuable! I keep it in my safe.”
Sherman is the only fourth grader I know who has a wall safe in his room.
He pulled out his portable DVD player. “Let me show you the game highlights,” he said. “Of course, I’m in all of them.”
But before he could start the DVD player, April-May June came running up. She was in her green, yellow, and purple cheerleading uniform. Her blond hair floated behind her as she ran.
“Bernie—I’ve got big news!” she cried breathlessly.
Chapter 12
WHAT RHYMES WITH ECCH?
Sherman’s eyes grew wide. “Big news about my soccer game?” he asked April-May. “You want a highlight reel? I’ll be happy to make a copy and e-mail you all my best plays.”
“It’s not about you,” April-May said sharply.
He gasped in shock and nearly dropped his grebe ball.
She turned her back on Sherman and flashed me a smile. “It’s about your team, Bernie,” she said.
“My team?” I said. “Well, yes, I’ve whipped that team into shape. I know we have a long way to go. But they’re starting to listen to me. And it shows!”
April-May kept her awesome smile on me. Sunshine. Sunshine! Her smile was so bright, I had to hide my eyes.
“Bernie,” she said, “the cheerleaders have decided that—now that you’re not pitiful, geeky losers—we are going to come cheer for your games!”
Sherman gasped again. “But—but—what about my soccer games?” he sputtered.
“You don’t need us anymore,” April-May snapped. “The football team is a lot more exciting.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Especially since Bernie put Jennifer Ecch on the team.”
April-May shook my hand. “Bernie, I’m so proud of you for letting a girl play.”
“Yes, I’m a pioneer,” I said. “And I’m proud of it. I really think girls are almost as good as boys in sports. I think we need even more girls on the football team.”
I grinned at Sherman. “I think girls should be on all teams—even soccer teams!”
Sherman choked.
I slapped him hard on the back until he started breathing normal again.
“Bernie,” April-May said, “if the Apples win the football championship, I’ll have lunch with you in the Dining Hall!” Then she added, “If you promise to eat fast.”
My heart leaped around in my chest.
“Yes! Of course, I eat fast,�
� I said. “Of course, we’ll win the championship.”
I flashed her my best dimpled grin. “Especially with you and the other cheerleaders there to cheer us on!”
She seemed to like that.
“Here’s a new cheer you might want to try,” I said. I stepped back and performed it for her, jumping and waving my arms in the air.
“Give me a B! Give me an E! Give me an R! Give me an N! Give me a—”
Sherman shoved his finger down his throat. “Give me a P-U-K-E!” He groaned.
“Here’s the new cheer I’ve been working on,” April-May said.
She put her hands on her waist, tossed back her head, and shouted at the top of her lungs. “Give me an ECCH! Give me an ECCH! Give me an ECCH ECCH ECCH!”
She did a perfect cartwheel. “Bernie, the cheer isn’t quite finished. What rhymes with Ecch?”
I thought hard. “Blecch?”
She frowned. “It still needs work.”
Sherman pulled out his wallet. He took out a hundred-dollar bill and waved it in April-May’s face. “I’m a generous dude. I’ll pay the cheerleaders one hundred dollars to cheer at the soccer games,” he said.
April-May gasped. “Sherman! Are you trying to bribe a cheerleader?” she cried. “Don’t you know you can’t bribe a cheerleader!”
I grabbed the bill from his hand. “Sherman, what’s wrong with you?” I scolded. “It’s not about money. It’s about school spirit. It’s about the joy of winning for our wonderful Rotten School!”
“Bernie is right,” April-May said.
I folded up the money and jammed it into my pocket. “I’ll see that this goes to a good charity,” I said. “I’ll donate it to The Bernie Bridges Marshmallow-Ripple Banana Ice Cream After-Dinner Fund.”
“I have to go work on my cheer,” April-May said. “I know something rhymes with Ecch.”
She did another perfect cartwheel, just to show off. Then she took off, heading toward the girls’ dorm.
I felt like doing a cartwheel, too.
Sherman, on the other hand, didn’t look too happy. His face was bright red, and he was gritting his teeth.
He gripped the soccer ball between his hands. And he squeezed it so hard, he popped his grebe ball!
Angrily, he tossed it to the ground, turned, and strode away.
Well, well. Everything was going Bernie B.’s way today. Everything was going great.
I shut my eyes and pictured myself winning the football championship…being carried off the field with all the cheerleaders shouting my name…sitting in the Dining Hall…chatting over lunch with April-May June.
Dream on, Bernie. Dream on.
I should have known that Sherman would find a way to mess things up….
Chapter 13
SHERMAN’S EVIL PLOT
My guys and I had a big celebration that night in Rotten House, our dorm. Thanks to Sherman’s hundred-dollar bill, we had tons and tons of marshmallow-ripple banana ice cream to celebrate with.
We didn’t bother scooping it into bowls. We each had our own gallon! Feenman and Crench ate it with their hands. Beast had his head buried in the carton. When he finished the ice cream, he swallowed the box.
Okay, maybe we overdid it with the marshmallow-ripple. Late that night, I was awakened by loud noises from down the hall.
No mistaking it. I’d heard it before. Guys in the third-floor bathroom, barfing their brains out.
“Hey, dudes!” I sat up in bed and shouted. “Could you barf to yourselves? I need my sleep, remember? Big game on Saturday!”
Good guys. Much quieter. I could tell they were covering their mouths as they hurled.
The next afternoon, I was still joyful, still floating on my victory, still gleefully innocent of what was waiting for me.
But I stopped when I got to the practice field.
Feenman and Crench came hurrying over. Feenman shook his head. “We’ve got a problem, Big B.”
They both pointed to the crowd in the center of the field.
“Girls!” Crench cried. “At least a dozen, Bernie. Maybe more.”
“They came to watch us practice?” I asked.
“They came to play,” Crench replied.
“Huh? Play what?” I cried. “You don’t mean…”
I jogged up to the crowd of girls. I recognized Flora and Fauna, the Peevish twins—friends of Sherman’s. And I saw April-May’s good friend Sharonda Davis. And lots of other girls, all talking at once.
“Hey, good to see you!” I said cheerfully. “You girls getting some sun? Hope you remembered your suntan lotion. If you need any, I have some tubes for sale. Only two dollars each.”
I motioned to the sidelines. “Sunbathers over there, please. Make room for the team to practice.”
“Bernie, we came to play,” Flora said.
The other girls all nodded and cheered and jumped up and down excitedly.
“You came to play volleyball?” I said. “Sorry. We don’t have a net. Have you tried the gym?”
Sharonda Davis stepped up to me. Sharonda is a tall, lanky girl with an attitude. “Volleyball? You’re joking, right? Bernie, we came to play on the football team.”
“You go, girl!” her friends shouted.
Sharonda poked me in the stomach with a football. Just to show me who’s boss, I guess. “Sherman said you are desperate for more girls on your team. So here we are.” She said each word with a poke in the stomach.
“Sherman?” I cried, my voice cracking. “Sherman said what?!”
And suddenly I realized what was happening here.
This was Sherman’s plot against me. He sends over a bunch of girls who have no clue how to play football. So I lose all my games. And the cheerleaders go back to the soccer team. And Sherman is the big, shining star once again.
I got Sherman’s plot. I got it, okay.
But what could I do about it?
I had to send them away. If I let these girls on the team, we’d be total losers again.
I had to be strong. I had to be brave.
“Sorry, girls,” I started. “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m afraid—”
And then I saw April-May June watching from the sidelines. Watching and listening.
“Uh…I hate to disappoint you,” I said, “but I’m afraid your uniforms won’t be ready until Friday!”
Chapter 14
AM I DOOMED OR AM I DOOMED?
Don’t get me wrong. I know girls can be really good athletes. But these girls didn’t understand the game.
“I want to kick a touchdown!” Flora shouted at practice.
Her sister, Fauna, caught a long pass after it bounced once. “Hey, I caught it!” she shouted. “How many points is that?”
“How many points for running out-of-bounds?” one of them shouted.
It was not an easy week for the team leader, Bernie B. And Coach Bunz was no help at all. He just kept shouting, “Focus! Focus! Bend but don’t break! Keep your whistle wet!”
No one knew what the heck he was talking about!
To make matters worse, Jennifer Ecch showed up at practice loaded down with big balls of wool. She kept holding them up to my face one at a time.
“This color is a little too pale,” she’d say. “This color is too bright. This one brings out your eyes, but it may be too scratchy. What do you think, Bernie?”
“Jennifer, they’re all perfect,” I said. “Use them all. I’ll be a rainbow!”
She squealed with happiness.
“Jennifer, please—no squealing!” I said. “Rules! Rules!”
I knew there was no way we’d win the championship now. The good news: Jennifer would not be knitting any sweaters for me. The bad news: No way I’d be having lunch with April-May.
An hour before our game with the Jimmy Neutron Academy Maniacs, April-May came running up to me in her cheerleader uniform. “Go, Bernie!” she cheered. “Go, Bernie! Go, Bernie!”
“April-May, I like that new cheer,” I said. “Di
d you make that up by yourself?”
“We all worked on it,” April-May replied. “We cheerleaders are totally thrilled you put so many girls on the team.”
“We needed the balance,” I said. “Before, we had too many kids who knew how to play. Now, we’ve fixed that.”
“Go, Bernie!” she cried. She backflipped over to the other cheerleaders on the sidelines.
My stomach suddenly did some backflips of its own.
I’m doomed, I thought. Sherman really got me this time. We’re going to be slaughtered! And Sherman’s soccer team will probably win the State Championship.
And then I watched the Maniacs climb down from their school bus. They piled off, grunting and head-butting one another. They were all as big as rhinoceroses! Some of them even had single horns growing out of their foreheads!
I turned and saw Jennifer Ecch watching from the field. Jennifer Ecch, our secret weapon. And even she was trembling, her whole body shaking and quaking, her teeth chattering.
Doomed, I thought. The Fighting Apples will be applesauce in an hour. Totally doomed.
A whistle blew. The game was starting.
Flora and Fauna came running up to me. “It’s our first game,” Flora said. “Give us a pep talk, Bernie. You’re the team leader!”
“Yeah. Give us a pep talk,” Fauna said.
The whole team huddled together on the side of the field.
“A pep talk? Okay,” I said. “Pep talk. Pep talk. Let me see…. Does everyone know where we keep the first-aid kit?”
Chapter 15
HOW TO BEAT MANIACS
I glanced over to the other side of the field. The Maniacs were grunting and growling, still head-butting one another, locking horns, waiting for us to come play.
I looked for my buddies Feenman and Crench. I spotted them hiding behind Coach Bunz. Cowards!
Okay. Pain time. I took a deep breath. “Let’s go out there and show these guys what Rotten means!” I shouted. I clapped my hands and went running onto the field, leading my team to the slaughter.