The Big Blueberry Barf-Off! Read Online Free PDF

stood up and straightened her denim skirt. She had grass stains on those giant knees.
    I flashed her my famous, five-star, fifty-two-tooth, dimpled grin.
    Jennifer swooned. She gave me a dreamy look.
    The dimples get them every time. Sometimes I push a pencil eraser into my dimples to make them deeper.
    â€œWhy were you looking for me, Sweet Cakes?” Jennifer asked.
    I started to gag. “Please— please don’t ever call me Sweet Cakes,” I begged. “It makes my ears sweat. Really. Look how they’re sweating.”
    â€œWell, why were you looking for me, Bernie?”
    I reached into my pocket for an order form. “Would you like to buy a Bernie Bridges T-shirt? They’re made out of rope. But they’re very comfortable.”
    Jennifer let out a roar. She lowered her head, rushed forward, and rammed her head into my stomach.
    Ohh. I couldn’t breathe! I felt like I’d been hit by a garbage truck. Moaning and groaning, I dropped to the ground. I sprawled on my back, struggling to breathe.
    And Jennifer Ecch sat on my chest.
    â€œIs that a no?” I asked.
    â€œI bought two of them,” she said. “They scratched my skin until I bled. Three days after I stopped wearing them, I was still itching like crazy.”
    I groaned some more. “Get off me, Jen. You’re breaking my ribs. I need my ribs. They keep my chest on.”
    Jennifer didn’t budge. “I’ll make you a deal, Bernie.”
    â€œA deal?”
    â€œI’ll get up—if you take dance lessons with me at the Student Center Saturday night.”
    I choked. “D-d-d-dance lessons? With y- you ?”
    â€œBernie, why are you stuttering?”
    â€œBecause I think it’s a great idea,” I said. “D-dance lessons with you. Awesome.”
    Jennifer let out a squeal. She jumped to her feet. “Really? You want to do it?”
    Holding my aching stomach, I stood up slowly. “Yeah. Only I can’t do it, Jen. I can’t dance. I may never dance again.”
    I lowered my head sadly. I forced some tears to drip from my eyes.
    Jennifer Ecch gazed at me. “Why, Bernie?” she cried. “What’s wrong, Sweet Cakes?”
    â€œMy knees,” I said.
    I started to stagger and stumble around, pressingmy knees together. “See? See how I’m walking? Isn’t this terrible? I hurt my knees…in a horrible skiing accident.”
    She squinted at me. “You ski?”
    â€œWell…yeah. And I was caught in an avalanche. A huge snowdrift fell on my knees. Two tons of solid ice. My knees are still frozen stiff! I haven’t been able to dance ever since.”

    I staggered around some more.
    â€œOh, Honey Bunch, that’s so sad!” Jennifer cried. She tried to wrap me in a hug, but I ducked away.
    She glanced at her watch. “Oh, no. I’m late for Cooking class. We’re getting ready to make cakes.”
    â€œI know, I know,” I said. “Hey, Jen—do you know any way I could get Ms. Monella to bake pies instead?”
    She squinted at me. “Bake pies?”
    I nodded.
    â€œIf I tell you how, Bernie, will you take the dance lessons with me?”
    â€œSure,” I said. “Dance lessons. No problem.” I didn’t really hear myself. I was thinking about blueberry pies.
    Jennifer smiled at me. “Just ask her. That’s all.”
    â€œThat’s your big idea?” I cried. “Just ask her? No way. She’ll know it’s for one of my schemes. She’s much too smart to do anything I ask.”

    â€œNot true,” Jennifer said. “Sally Monella is a pushover. She’s totally soft-hearted. Last week, a kid started crying his eyes out because he missed his mother’s hamburgers. So guess what? We all made hamburgers.”

    My brain started hissing and steaming again. “Crying, huh? Crying worked on her?”
    â€œYes. Crying always works with Ms.