The Heinie Prize by R.L. Stine Page A

case,” I said. “Mrs. Heinie is crazy about me! I’ve probably already won.”
    Sherman tilted his perfect nose in the air and sneered at me. “Bernie,” he said, “she doesn’t awardthe Heinie Prize for being soaked in root beer. To win, you have to be both an outstanding student and an outstanding citizen .”

    Feenman opened his mouth and let out a long Rotten School Burp.
    â€œThat was outstanding!” Crench said.
    Sherman tilted his nose higher and sneered some more. “When I win the Heinie,” he said, “I’m going to display it in the front hall of the Student Center so everyone will be reminded that I’m not just filthy rich—I’m also fabulous!”
    Sherman walked away, humming to himself.
    My whole body started to shake. I started to pant like a dog. My teeth rattled. My lips flopped up and down.
    Feenman grabbed me by the shoulders. “Bernie—what’s wrong?” he cried.
    â€œI…I’ve gotta win that prize,” I finally choked out. “I can’t let Sherman Oaks win. I’ve gotta win the Heinie. I’ve gotta be Most Outstanding.”
    Feenman and Crench stared at me. “But—how?” they cried.

Chapter 3
“D REAM O N …”
    Our dorm is called Rotten House. It’s a run-down old house, but we love it.
    My buddies and I chose the third floor. It’s perfect for dropping water balloons out the window when kids walk by.
    Anything for a laugh—right?
    That’s not Mrs. Heinie’s slogan. She is our dorm mother, so she has to be serious. She spends her time snooping and spying on us, making sure we don’t do anything for a laugh.
    I climbed the creaky stairs to my room and found Mrs. H. stretched out on the floor beside my bed. “Mrs. Heinie? Are you okay?” I cried.

    She rolled over to face me. “I’m doing an under-the-bed inspection in every room,” she said. “You’d be surprised at the things I find under beds.”
    â€œReally? Like what?”
    â€œWell, on the second floor, I found a boy under his bed. He’d been there for three days.”
    â€œThat’s my friend Chipmunk,” I said. “You know how shy he is. He doesn’t like to come out.”
    She rolled over and pulled out a carton from under my bed. Inside was my secret stash of Nutty Nutty candy bars. I planned to sell them to the second graders for a dollar each.
    â€œAha!” she cried. “What have we here? Trying to hide something from me?”
    â€œYes,” I said. “I am.” I grabbed the carton from her hands. “Please, Mrs. H.—it’s your birthday present. Please don’t spoil the surprise.”
    She squinted at me through her thick eyeglasses. “My birthday present?” She shook the box. “Sounds like candy bars to me,” she said.
    She has an awesome ear!
    I slid the box back under the bed. Then I helped her to her feet. “It’s actually a thank-you present,” Isaid. I flashed her my best, dimpled smile. The dimples in my cheeks always KILL!
    â€œThank you?” she said. “For what?”
    I kept the awesome smile aimed at her. “I know I’m going to win the Heinie Prize,” I said. “I just want to tell you how honored I am.”
    â€œYou’re joking, right?” she replied. She started for the door.
    â€œNo, wait. I want to show you something,” I said. I pulled her to the window. “See this windowsill, Mrs. H.? That’s where the prize trophy will go.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Dream on.”
    â€œDo you think you could lend the Heinie trophy to me now?” I asked. “I want to get used to having it in my room.”
    She stuck her finger down her throat and made a gagging sound.
    â€œIs that a hint?” I said. “Are you trying to tell me I really am number one?”
    â€œBye, Bernie.” She lumbered from the