Got Cake?

by R. L. Stine

  Her blond ponytail wagged behind her, glowing under the afternoon sun. I could see her bright blue eyes, her warm smile.

  I know she’s nuts about me. But she’s always so shy when I’m around. When she saw me coming, the shy thing started to run away.

  “April-May—stop!” I shouted. “I want to ask you something!”

  “The answer is,

  she shouted back.

  I love a girl with a sense of humor.

  “April-May…gasp, gasp.” I was panting hard by the time I caught up to her. “Answer one question. Who is more popular than me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Everyone,” she said.

  “Ha-ha! You’re joking, right?” I said.

  She rolled her eyes again. “I thought YOU were joking, Bernie,” she said. “You’re about as popular as what I just cleaned off the bottom of my shoe after walking near Pooper’s Pond.”

  I laughed. “You love to tease me—don’t you! That’s how I know you like me.”

  She stuck a finger down her throat and made gagging sounds.

  “Enough teasing,” I said. “Come on. Make my day. Say something nice about me.”

  She gagged up her lunch. “Okay,” she said finally. “Something nice.” She thought hard. “Uh…Bernie, I think you’re more popular than stomach flu.”

  A happy smile spread over my face. “See? I knew you could do it.”

  I turned and saw Leif Blower trotting over to us. “Yo—Blower. Whussup?” I called. “Lookin’ good, dude!”

  Blower gave April-May a big, black-toothed smile.

  April-May’s eyes twinkled when she saw him. She flashed him a bright smile and wrapped her arm around his. “Who’s most popular?” she breathed into his ear. “I am—aren’t I, Leify baby?”

  He giggled. And blushed dark red. “Know what? I think maybe you are!” he said, nodding his head.

  She squeezed his hand and rubbed her cheek against his. “I’m the most, most, most, most popular, aren’t I?”

  He giggled again. “Uhhuh” was all he could choke out.

  I watched them walk off hand in hand.

  “This is going to be more difficult than I thought!” I told myself.

  I heard thundering footsteps. The ground shook.

  I spun around—and saw Jennifer Ecch. Stomping toward me, head lowered like an angry bull coming after a red flag.

  Jennifer Ecch, the biggest, strongest, hulkiest girl at Rotten School. I call her Nightmare Girl.

  But it doesn’t matter what I call her. The Ecch is totally in love with me.

  But now as she thundered toward me, I froze in TERROR.

  Because I could see the fierce gleam in her one brown eye and one blue eye.

  And I knew what she planned to do.

  She planned to do The Stomp on my foot!

  Chapter 6

  WHY I LOOK LIKE A DUCK

  My scream sent leaves tumbling from the trees. I saw two birds fall out of the sky and land with two thuds on the grass.

  I’ll never forget the grin on Jennifer’s face. When it came to The Stomp, she knew she ruled.

  “Why are you screaming?” she cried. “That was a love tap.”

  A love tap?

  My foot was buried two feet in the ground!

  I tugged it out. My shoe looked like shredded wheat. I grabbed it with both hands and started hopping in agony.

  I glanced up and saw Jennifer with a camera pressed to her face. She snapped picture after picture as I hopped on one foot.

  “Look what you did!” I screamed. “My foot is totally FLAT! You gave me a webbed foot! I look like a DUCK!”

  She laughed. “Keep hopping, Ducky Lips. I think you can set the school record.”

  “Don’t call me Ducky Lips!” I screamed.

  I couldn’t hop anymore. My foot had swelled up to the size of a cantaloupe! I plopped down onto the grass. “What are you doing with that camera?” I cried.

  She plopped down beside me. She giggled and grabbed my arm.

  “Ducky Lips, you crack me up,” she said. Then she started planting wet, smoochy kisses up and down my arm.

  She didn’t stop until my arm was limp and soaked as a sponge.

  Do you know how embarrassing it is to be in fourth grade and have a girl totally in love with you?

  I sighed. “What about the camera?” I asked again.

  “The shots of you hopping up and down are going to be awesome in the Rotten Egg!” she gushed.

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  She gave my shoulder a gentle slap—so gentle, it knocked me flat on the grass. “Ducky Whiskers, you know I’m the new photographer for the yearbook.”

  I stared at her until my glasses steamed up. “Huh? You? You work for the yearbook?”

  She nodded.

  I scooted away. She looked like she was going to give me another gentle tap.

  “You’re the Official Photographer for the Rotten Egg?” I asked.

  She nodded again.

  My mind whirred. I could feel my brain heating up inside my skull as I began to think. My ears started flapping again.

  Now I couldn’t lose! With Jennifer as my Official Photographer, I couldn’t lose! (Maybe.)

  Chapter 7

  TOTAL EMBARRASSMENT

  I jumped to my feet. I began to pace back and forth excitedly in front of Jennifer. “You know about the Most Popular Rotten Egg page?” I asked her.

  She nodded. “Of course. I’m taking the photo of the winner.”

  She leaned forward and started pulling up clumps of grass from the ground with both hands. Then she stuffed them into her mouth and chewed on them.

  I squinted down at her. “Why are you doing that?”

  She shrugged. “MMMPH, MMMMPH. I like to keep busy.”

  I told you she’s a beast.

  “I want to win the Most Popular contest,” I said.

  A lopsided grin spread over her face. “You’re already Most Popular with me, Honey Face.” She grabbed my hand, jerked me back down to the ground, and began planting more smoochy kisses on my arm.

  I had to shove her away when she started to chew the buttons off my shirt.

  “Jen, listen to me,” I begged. “You want to help me, don’t you?”

  She giggled. “Of course I’ll help you. You’re my wubby-wubby—aren’t you?”

  “Your WHAT?!” I screamed.

  Her crooked grin spread all the way to her huge, floppy ears. “My wubby-wubby.”

  Oh, puke.

  “Jennifer, please!” I begged. “Don’t ever say that again. Please—swear you’ll never say that again.”

  She giggled. “How do you want me to help you?”

  “I want you to take a bunch of photos of me being popular,” I said. “Follow me around with your camera. And whenever you see me being popular, snap a shot.”

  “Okay, Wubby-Wubby,” she said.

  “Please—no wubby-wubby!” I pleaded. “If you say it one more time, I’ll have no choice. I’ll have to leave school.”

  “So I take photos of everyone adoring you,” Jennifer said. “Then what?”

  “Then you snap a thousand photos of the huge crowd at my birthday party,” I said. “Total proof of how popular I am.”

  She squinted at me with her one brown eye and one blue eye. “You’re having a birthday party?”

  “The biggest party in Rotten School history,” I said. “Then you bring the stack of photos to Leif Blower. Blower will see that I’m the only choice. Piece of cake!”

  Jennifer lumbered to her feet. “I’m late for hockey practice,” she said. “Can I bake you a big birthday cake for your party? Please, please, please? Can I bake the cake?”

  “Sure,” I said. “The bigger the better.”

  She grinned. She had clumps of grass stuck in her teeth. “Thank you! Thank you! I’m going to bake the biggest birthday cake in history!”

  She started to trot toward the hockey field. Then she suddenly turned and yelled at
the top of her lungs: “Bye, Wubby-Wubby!”

  I saw April-May and Leif across the grass. They HEARD her! They started to laugh. Other kids started laughing, too.

  Oh, wow. I felt my face turn red. Laughter rang in my ears. I slumped to the ground. And I started pulling up clumps of grass and stuffing them into my mouth.

  Hey—not bad!

  Chapter 8

  THE SECRET IS OUT

  So far, the birthday party was just a brilliant idea. Now I had to get people working on it.

  I knew I couldn’t give the party for myself. How lame would that be?

  Other kids had to throw the party for me.

  You probably go home every day after school. But I can’t. Rotten School is a boarding school. That means we all live at school.

  My buddies and I live in a dorm called Rotten House. Actually, it’s a run-down, beat-up old house with creaking floors, rattling windows, an inch of dust everywhere, and strange, furry bugs crawling up and down the walls.

  We love it.

  We can do whatever we want. No parents! And Mrs. Heinie, our dorm mother, is totally nearsighted. She can’t see a thing we do.

  How great is that?

  I have a big room all to myself on the third floor. My friends Feenman, Crench, and Belzer are squeezed into the tiny room across the hall.

  They don’t mind. They know a popular guy like me needs plenty of room to practice being popular.

  That night, I crossed the hall into Feenman, Crench, and Belzer’s room. I stopped at the door—and gasped in surprise.

  Crench’s face and hair were gleaming bright red. He was standing totally still while Feenman slid a fat paintbrush up and down his jeans and T-shirt.

  Painting him red.

  I stepped into the room. Feenman’s hobby is painting things red. He likes to paint kids’ computer screens red when they’re not looking. One night he sneaked into the School House and painted all the windows in Mrs. Heinie’s classroom red.

  “Yo, Bernie,” Feenman greeted me with a smile. “How does he look?”

  “He looks red,” I said. “Why are you doing this to him?”

  “For Halloween,” Feenman answered. “Cool, huh?”

  “But—but—” I sputtered. “Feenman, Halloween is five months away!”

  “No problem,” he replied. “I used waterproof paint. No way it’ll ever wash off.”

  Crench grinned at me through the thick, red globs of paint oozing down his head. “Scary, huh?”

  “Scary,” I said. “What are you supposed to be?”

  “A dude who is red,” he said.

  I should have known.

  Time to get the ball rolling. Time to put the party idea in their heads…

  I dropped down onto the edge of their bunk bed. “You know, it’s hard to keep a secret around here,” I said.

  Feenman bent down to paint Crench’s sneakers. “Secret, Bernie?”

  “Yeah. I heard your secret,” I said. “I know you guys are planning a big surprise party for my birthday.”

  “We are?” they both replied.

  Feenman carefully painted Crench’s socks.

  “Yeah, the secret got out,” I said. “But listen, guys. Keep the party small, okay? I don’t want kids to think I’m stuck-up. Just invite everyone in the whole school. And maybe a few hundred kids from other schools.”

  “No problem, Bernie,” Feenman said.

  “Yeah, no problem,” Crench repeated. He scratched his head. Now his hand was smeared with red paint. “When did you say your birthday was?”

  I laughed. “Don’t tease me,” I said. “I know you know the answer to that. I know you guys have been planning this party for weeks.”

  “Yeah. Right,” Feenman said. He turned Crench around and started painting his butt red.

  “Catch you later,” I said. “Remember—make it a small party. Just invite everyone you can think of.”

  I stepped out into the hall, but I didn’t go into my room. I pressed myself against the wall and eavesdropped on them.

  “Did you know it was Bernie’s birthday?” I heard Crench say.

  “No,” Feenman answered. “Think we should give him some kind of party?”

  “I dunno,” Crench replied. “Maybe.”

  Okay! I thought. Well done, Bernie. That’s a start.

  I tiptoed back to my room.

  I’d put the idea into their heads.

  I could already hear the whole school singing “Happy Birthday” to me.

  Will that impress Leif Blower?

  Does a duck swim backward in the spring?

  Chapter 9

  BELZER CAN’T KEEP A SECRET

  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….

  Chapter 10

  I BERNIE

  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.”<
br />
  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!”

  Chapter 11

  SHERMAN KNOWS HOW TO BE POPULAR

  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….

  Chapter 12