The Twelve Burps of Christmas
Page 1
For Liz Barkan, whose warmth and workouts melt away the winter aches—NK
For Mom and Dad, for making every Christmas magical and for never giving me a Red Ryder BB Gun—AB
GROSSET & DUNLAP
Published by the Penguin Group
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Text copyright © 2012 by Nancy Krulik. Illustrations copyright © 2012 by Aaron Blecha. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Printed in the U.S.A.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2011046446
ISBN 978-1-101-62066-3
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Copyright
DON"T BE SUCH A FLAKE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
WHAT'S A FEW BURPS BETWEEN FRIENDS?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
About the author and illustrator
“Yuck!”
George Brown looked down at the plate of red and green Jell-O with pieces of fruit in it. The Jell-O was the lunch lady’s way of getting everyone into the Christmas spirit. Not that the kids at Edith B. Sugarman Elementary School needed reminding. Christmas was all anyone could talk about these days.
“I’m getting a battery-operated guitar amp and a wireless microphone,” Louie told a bunch of other fourth-graders. “And a new air hockey table for the game room.”
“How do you know you’re definitely getting all that?” Julianna asked him.
“Because they’re on my Christmas list,” Louie said.
“Don’t you know anything?” Louie’s friend Mike asked Julianna.
“Louie always gets what’s on the list,” his pal Max added.
“Well, exc-u-u-u-se me,” Julianna said.
George turned to Julianna. “I spent the whole weekend trying to find gifts my mother has hidden. But no luck.”
“Oh, Georgie . . . look over here.”
Oh man. It was Sage walking toward their table. She was dangling some green leafy thing in the air.
“Do you know what this is?” Sage asked. She batted her eyelashes. “And do you know what it means?”
George knew what it was. It was mistletoe. He also knew what it meant. Sage wanted him to kiss her. That was not going to happen, not in this life.
Sage puckered up her mouth.
George took a big bite of his macaroni and cheese and shoved a spoonful of Jell-O into his mouth. “Sure. I know what it is,” George answered. Jell-O goo, slimy yellow cheese, and chewed-up fruit bits dripped out of his mouth and onto his chin.
“Yuck!” Sage shouted. She dropped the mistletoe and walked away. “Never mind.”
Score one for George. He swallowed his food and grinned.
“Sage’s a real pain,” George’s best friend, Alex, said.
“She’s not the biggest problem,” George told him.
Alex knew what George meant. “You’re worried about the you-know-whats,” he whispered.
George nodded. Alex was his only friend who knew about the you-know-whats. That was because it was a tale too terrible to tell. But Alex had been smart enough to figure it out on his own. The you-know-whats were magic burps, burps so huge and powerful that they were ruining George’s life.
It all started when George and his family first moved to Beaver Brook. George’s dad was in the army, so the family moved around a lot. By now, George understood that first days at school could be pretty rotten. But this first day was the rottenest.
In his old school, George had been the class clown. He was always pulling pranks and making jokes. But George had promised himself that things were going to be different at Edith B. Sugarman Elementary School. He was turning over a new leaf. No more pranks. No more whoopee cushions or spitballs shot through straws. No more bunny ears behind people’s heads in class pictures. No more goofing on teachers when their backs were turned.
But George didn’t have to be a math whiz like Alex to figure out how many friends you make being the unfunny, well-behaved new kid in school. The answer was easy. Zero. Nada. Zilch.
That night, George’s parents took him out to Ernie’s Ice Cream Emporium. While they were sitting outside and George was finishing his root beer float, a shooting star flashed across the sky. So George made a wish.
I want to make kids laugh—but not get into trouble.
Unfortunately, the star was gone before George could finish the wish. So only half came true—the first half.
A minute later, George had a funny feeling in his belly. It was like there were hundreds of tiny bubbles bouncing around in there. The bubbles hopped up and down and all around. They ping-ponged their way into his chest and bing-bonged their way up into his throat. And then . . .
George let out a big burp. A huge burp. A SUPER burp!
The super burp was loud, and it was magic.
Suddenly, George lost control of his arms and legs. It was like they had minds of their own. His hands grabbed straws and stuck them up his nose like a walrus. His feet jumped up on the table and started dancing the hokey pokey. Everyone at Ernie’s Ice Cream Emporium started laughing—except George’s parents.
The magical super burps came back lots of times after that. And every time a burp arrived, it brought trouble with it. Like the time George dive-bombed into the audience in the middle of the school talent show. That wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t landed right in Principal McKeon’s arms!
George would never forget the time a burp exploded during Louie’s birthday party at a water park. George went crazy on a tubing ride. He dived underwater and started pinching people’s butts! Boy, were the lifeguard
s mad.
There were a lot of good surprises that could come during Christmas. Surprise presents. Surprise visitors. Surprise snowstorms. Those were great. But a surprise burp was definitely not something he wanted!
“Have you burped a lot lately?” Alex whispered to George.
“Not since last Sunday, when it made me soak my feet in my soup bowl during dinner,” George said.
“I’m working on a cure,” Alex assured him. “Maybe that can be my Christmas present to you.”
George smiled. A cure for the super burp. That would be the best Christmas present ever!
“Class, settle down,” Mrs. Kelly, George’s teacher, said as the kids filed into the classroom after music class.
George hated music class. Today Mrs. Cadenza had taught them “The Snowflake Serenade.” The words were: Snow is falling everywhere, snowflakes flying in the air. Landing softly on a branch, dancing a lovely snowflake dance.
Sheesh. It didn’t even rhyme. So George had made up his own words in his head while everyone else sang out loud: Snowflakes falling everywhere, in my ears and on my hair. Melting as they end their dance. Looks like Louie wet his pants!
Now that would have been fun to sing!
“I have a wonderful holiday surprise,” Mrs. Kelly said. “I call it our Santa’s Workshop project because it’s all about toys!” She gave the kids a gummy smile. “Over the next two nights, your homework will be to research the history of your favorite toy. On Friday, you will have the chance to tell the class what you’ve learned.”
George slumped down in his seat. A research project? That was her big holiday surprise? Mrs. Kelly sure had a weird way of saying “Merry Christmas.”
At least George had no trouble deciding what he’d write about—skateboards. He loved to skateboard. And he already had a great idea: He would demonstrate riding a skateboard during his speech. That meant that practicing on his skateboard would actually be doing homework!
That was why, for the first time in a long time, George wanted to start working on his homework right after school. But his mom had other plans for him. She wanted to take George shopping at Mabel’s Department Store.
The last time he was at Mabel’s, the burp had made him run up the down escalator, crashing into people and sending their packages flying.
George wouldn’t be surprised if Mabel’s Department Store had wanted posters with his picture all over the store.
“I don’t want to go shopping,” George groaned as his mother pulled the car into the parking lot.
“But I have to get gifts for Grandma and Great-Aunt Catherine,” his mom explained.
“Why do you need me?” George asked.
“Well . . .” His mother gave him a weird smile.
Uh-oh. George had seen that smile before. His mother used it every time she wanted George to do something he was sure to hate.
“For a picture on Santa’s lap,” his mother said.
George’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Was she kidding? That was for little kids! George wasn’t going to climb up on Santa’s lap. “No way. Not happening.”
“Oh, come on. I’ve kept every picture of you with Santa since you were a baby.” His mother sighed. “Soon you’re going to be too big.”
Soon? George was already too big!
But George’s mom really wanted him to pose for that picture. And George didn’t want to disappoint her, especially not this close to Christmas. That would be a bad move.
“Okay, I guess,” George said.
They walked into the store. Right away, George spotted a saleswoman who had been there the day of his big burp. Quickly, George wrapped his scarf over his mouth and nose and pulled his ski cap down to his eyebrows. The only things showing were his eyes. There was no way she could recognize him now.
“What are you doing?” George’s mom asked.
“I’m cold,” George said from under his scarf.
“You’re not wearing all that when you take your picture,” his mom said. “I want to be able to see your beautiful smile.”
She wanted him to smile, too? Now that was asking a lot.
There was a long line of little kids waiting to see Santa at the North Pole Photo Studio. The studio was on the eighth floor of Mabel’s Department Store, right next to the toy department. That meant the kids were all staring at all those toys while they waited in line—when they weren’t staring at Santa, that is. Once George had believed that the guy sitting in the big chair was the real Santa. Now he knew better. Still, George didn’t want to ruin it for all the little kids. So he kept his mouth shut.
“Ho, ho, ho,” the department store Santa said when it was finally George’s turn. “You’re a big one.”
“My mom wants a picture,” George said, plopping onto his lap.
“Ho, ho, ho.” The store Santa laughed again. “What do you want for Christmas?”
No department store Santa was going to be able to get him what he really wanted.
Especially right at that very moment, since suddenly the super burp was back and on the move! Already, tiny bubbles were bouncing around inside George. They were kickboxing his kidneys, ping-ponging past his pancreas, and loop-the-looping around his liver.
George shut his mouth tight to keep the burp from escaping. But the burp was strong. It jingle-jangled its way into his throat. And then . . .
George let out a burp so loud, elves at the North Pole could have heard it!
“Whoa!” The department store Santa pinched his nose. “What’d you have for lunch, sonny? That was some strong burp!”
George opened his mouth to say “Excuse me.” But that’s not what came out. Instead, his mouth shouted, “Ho, ho, ho!”
George’s hands took on a life of their own. They reached up and grabbed Santa’s red cap and plopped it onto George’s head. George’s legs leaped from Santa’s lap. His feet started running all around the North Pole Photo Studio.
“George!” his mother shouted. “Sit back down on Santa’s lap this instant!”
“Ho, ho, ho!” George’s mouth shouted to all the little kids in line. “Merry Christmas!”
“Give me back that hat!” the department store Santa shouted. “Stop that brat!”
A little boy waiting in line said, “Mama, Santa called that boy a brat.”
“Santa is being mean,” a little girl said.
George’s feet ran around the North Pole Photo Studio, knocking over cardboard candy canes. His hands grabbed ornaments off a plastic tree and tossed silver tinsel in the air.
“Ho, ho, ho!” George’s mouth laughed. “’Tis the season to be jolly!”
“Somebody get him!” Santa shouted.
One of Santa’s helpers tried to grab George.
“Ho, ho, ho!” George’s mouth shouted as his feet started to run.
Whoops! George’s feet tripped on some slippery tinsel.
Bash! George fell to the ground.
Crash! The Christmas tree fell over. Christmas decorations and tinsel went flying all over the place.
Whoosh! Suddenly George felt the air rush right out of him. It was like someone had popped a balloon in his belly. The super burp was gone! But George was still there, covered in tinsel and holding two red Christmas balls.
A little girl with long, brown curls looked at him strangely. “Are you one of Santa’s helpers?” she asked.
“No, he’s not,” the department store Santa said. He turned to George’s mother. “Get this kid out of here,” he added.
The photographer handed her a picture of George on Santa’s lap. George peered over his mother’s shoulder. There he was, with his mouth wide open and his eyes bulging out of his head. Santa was holding his nose. George had a feeling that was not the Christmas picture his mom had in mind.
George’s mom looked at the picture. Then she looked at George all covered in tinsel. “Gee, George,” she said. “If you didn’t want to pose with Santa, you should have just said so.”
“Another burp in Mabel’s?” Alex whispered to George as the boys filed into the school auditorium the next morning.
George nodded. “It was a whopper.”
“I did more research last night,” Alex said. “Did you know that certain species of birds use burping as mating calls?”
“Interesting. But what about a cure?” George asked.
Alex shook his head. “Nothing yet.”
Just then, Alex and George’s friend Chris joined them. Chris was in another fourth-grade class, so the boys usually only saw him at lunch. “Do you guys have any idea why we’re here?” Chris asked Alex and George.
George shook his head. “Mrs. Kelly just said we should go straight to the auditorium.”
“It’s about the holiday play,” Louie said, pushing past the boys and interrupting their conversation. “When my big brother, Sam, was in fourth grade, they did a holiday play. Sam was the narrator. He had more lines than anyone. Sam’s a great actor.”
“I hate plays.” Alex groaned. “I’m no good at acting or singing.”
“I always forget my lines,” Chris said. He looked at Alex. “You remember the play about the parts of speech last year? All I had to say was, ‘A noun is a person, place, or thing.’”
“And you said, ‘A noun is a place mat or something,’” Louie said and started laughing hysterically.
Chris turned red. “I was nervous.”
“And he wasn’t wrong,” Alex added. “A place mat is a thing, and that makes it a noun.”
George hated plays, too. It wasn’t that he didn’t like singing or that he couldn’t learn lines. Plays took place onstage, and the super burp seemed to really like stages. It had already burst out at the talent show and right before the county-wide spelling bee. It seemed the bigger the audience, the bigger the burp—and the more embarrassed George wound up.