Queenie's Crazy Crush Read online

  As he thought, Skuzz happened to look across the schoolyard. Suddenly his eyes lit up. “Hey, boss!” he said. “There’s Bermuda McBear hangin’ out with Cool Carl King!”

  “Too bad,” joked Too-Tall. “She oughta stay away from that dude.”

  “That’s not what I meant, boss,” said Skuzz. “Bermuda is Queenie’s cousin. She even lives with Queenie. Maybe you could get her to find out who S is.”

  Too-Tall smiled. “Good thinkin’, skuzz-brain,” he said. He sidled over to Bermuda. “Hey, there, Bermuda McBear. How’re things goin’?”

  “Not bad, big guy,” said Bermuda. “I’d ask you the same thing, but I’m afraid to.”

  Too-Tall nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m pretty upset about this Q & S business. You know what I’m talkin’ about?”

  “Who doesn’t?” said Bermuda.

  “Has Queenie said anything to you about it?”

  Bermuda shook her head. “Sorry, big guy.”

  “Look,” said Too-Tall. “I’ll bet you can find out who S is. It’s probably some older cub. Talk to Queenie tonight. Draw it out of her. Then report to me here in the morning. I’ll owe you a favor. Big time.”

  Bermuda shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “If I find out who this S cub is, what’re you gonna do to him?”

  “Just threaten him a little,” said Too-Tall.

  “I ain’t gonna hurt him. Won’t have to. Everybody’s scared of me.” He looked at Cool Carl. “Right, Cool?”

  Cool smiled and said, “Right, big guy.” Cool Carl was cool, but his notion of “cool” didn’t include messing with Too-Tall.

  “Okay,” said Bermuda. “It’s a deal.”

  Chapter 5

  New News Is Bad News

  The next morning, Bermuda reached the schoolyard before anyone else. She came early because she was worried. She needed to talk to someone. Anyone.

  Ferdy and his girlfriend, Trudy Brunowitz, were next to arrive.

  “Trudy!” cried Bermuda. “Am I glad to see you! I need to talk to you before Too-Tall gets here.”

  “What’s up?” asked Trudy.

  “Look, you’re the smartest girl in the school,” said Bermuda. “You can tell me what to do. I promised Too-Tall I’d find out from Queenie who S is. Well, I did. I’m supposed to tell him as soon as he gets here. But I’m afraid of what he might do.”

  “Why?” asked Trudy. “Who is it?” Bermuda hesitated. “If I’m going to help you,” Trudy prodded, “you have to tell me.”

  Bermuda let out a big sigh. “S stands for Smock,” she said.

  Trudy stared. “Smock? As in Mr. Smock? Our art teacher?”

  “Bingo,” said Bermuda.

  “Oh, dear,” said Trudy. “I see your problem.”

  “What problem?” asked Ferdy.

  “She’s afraid that Too-Tall will do something to Mr. Smock and get kicked out of school,” said Trudy.

  “Nonsense,” said Ferdy. “Too-Tall will do nothing of the kind. As soon as he hears that Queenie’s crush is a hopeless one that can lead nowhere, he’ll realize that Mr. Smock is no threat to his own position as Queenie’s boyfriend. It is only logical that Too-Tall will then forget all about Queenie’s crazy crush.”

  “I don’t know about that, Ferd,” said Trudy. “Love and jealousy aren’t rocket science, you know. That kind of logic doesn’t always work.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Ferdy. “Too-Tall may be a jerk, but he’s not stupid. Look, here he comes now. Too-Tall! Hey, Too-Tall!”

  Too-Tall and the gang came over. Ferdy gave Bermuda a nudge and said, “Bermuda has something important to tell you, big guy.”

  “I’ve been waitin’ all night for this,” said Too-Tall, with a wicked grin. “Well, let’s have it.”

  Bermuda’s face broke into a big sheepish smile. “Er…uh…I really like your cap, Too-Tall.”

  “That’s not it!” said Ferdy. He poked Bermuda in the ribs. “Go on. Tell him who S is.”

  “Well…okay,” said Bermuda. “Remember how you thought it was an older cub, big guy? Well, you were half right. He is older. But he’s not a cub.”

  Too-Tall glared at Bermuda. “Oh, he ain’t a cub? So what is he, a frog?”

  The gang snickered at that, but they stopped the moment Bermuda said, “Smock.”

  Too-Tall’s glare turned into a blank stare. For a moment he said nothing. Finally he got his mouth open. “Smock?” he said. “As in Mr. Smock? Our art teacher? The silly guy with the purple beret and the paint-smeared jacket?”

  “Isn’t that great?” said Ferdy. “It’s just a crazy crush. Smock could never feel the same way about Queenie. And as soon as she realizes that, she’ll forget all about him. Isn’t that a relief?”

  But Too-Tall didn’t look relieved. He looked upset. And confused. Really confused. “I don’t get it,” he said. “Queenie already has me, a real stud. What does she want with that wimpy artist?”

  “It all depends on whose eyes you’re seeing things through,” said Bermuda. “You look at yourself and you see a stud. You look at Mr. Smock and you see a wimp. But Queenie loves art. Naturally, she’s attracted to artistic types. And who could be more artistic than a painter who’s painting a masterpiece for the Bear Country Museum of Fine Art? So, when Queenie looks at Mr. Smock, she sees a stud. And when she looks at you, she sees a wimp. An art wimp. Hey, don’t look so glum, big guy. What’s wrong? Didn’t I explain it well enough?”

  “Cool it!” Trudy hissed at Bermuda. “You explained it too well!”

  “Oh, sorry, big guy,” said Bermuda. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  But it was too late for apologies. Too-Tall, shoulders hunched and head down, was already trudging off toward the schoolyard gate.

  Chapter 6

  Too-Tall’s Great Idea

  Too-Tall wasn’t seen again at school all that day. No one knew where he’d gone. He hadn’t even told the other gang members. So after school, Skuzz decided they should split up to search. His plan was simple. He would check the gang’s clubhouse behind Parts R Us, Two-Ton’s auto-parts lot. Smirk would check Biff Bruin’s Pharmacy and the Burger Bear. And Vinnie, who was so dim-witted that he might forget where he was going on the way there, would search wherever he wanted. At five o’clock they would meet at the Burger Bear.

  A few minutes before five, Skuzz walked into the Burger Bear to see Smirk sitting alone in the gang’s favorite booth. It turned out that neither of them had found Too-Tall. They waited a whole hour for Vinnie, but he never showed up. So they went home.

  The next morning, Vinnie was the last of the three to get to the corner of Main and Elm, where the gang always met to walk to school together.

  “Well, well,” said Skuzz, “if it ain’t Little Boy Lost. Don’t tell me: you stopped to take a quick nap in some vacant lot and didn’t wake up until this morning.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t make it yesterday,” said Vinnie. “I was runnin’ errands for the boss.”

  “You found him!” said Smirk.

  “So where was he?” asked Skuzz.

  “Sittin’ on a rock out in the woods behind school,” said Vinnie. “There’s a little rocky clearing that Brother Bear calls his Thinking Place. The boss said he decided to try it out ’cause he needed to think. And it must have worked.”

  “What did he come up with?” asked Smirk.

  “Wouldn’t tell me,” said Vinnie. “But I know he got an idea, ’cause right after I got there he jumped up and said something very strange.”

  “What was it?” asked Skuzz.

  “I memorized it word for word,” said Vinnie. “Hang on…” He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Oh, yeah! He said, ‘If it’s art that Queenie wants, then art she shall have!’ Just like that. Weirdest thing that ever came out of his mouth.”

  “And then what did he do?” asked Skuzz.

  “He told me to go get some things for him,” said Vinnie. “First I hit the art closet at school: all kinds of
oil paints, brushes, canvases, a palette, even an easel. Then my mom’s china closet: a cut-glass vase and a china bowl. Next, I hit our garage for a lantern. Last, the supermarket: one bag of oranges. Then I took everything to the boss over at the clubhouse.”

  “Did you ask him what he was gonna do with all that stuff?” asked Smirk.

  “Yeah,” said Vinnie.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said, ‘Shut up and get outta here before I break yer face.’”

  “Well,” said Smirk, “at least he’s still his old bossy self. What do you think he’s up to?”

  “Probably gonna sell all that stuff so he can buy Queenie a nice present,” said Vinnie.

  Skuzz threw his head back and laughed. “Sell it?” he cried. “You two dummies are lucky I’m around to tell you the difference between your heads and your elbows. It’s obvious what the boss is doin’. He’s paintin’ a picture!”

  “Of what?” said Vinnie.

  “Of a cut-glass vase and a bowl of oranges, you nitwit!” said Skuzz. “And since he had you steal him a lantern, I’ll bet he’s been paintin’ all night.”

  Vinnie still looked puzzled. “Why’s he paintin’ a picture? He don’t even like art.”

  “What Bermuda said about him bein’ an art wimp must have gotten to him,” said Skuzz. “So he’s tryin’ to win Queenie’s heart back by outpainting Mr. Smock.”

  “He’s nuts!” said Smirk. “There’s no way he can outpaint Smock!”

  “You know what they say,” said Skuzz. “Love is blind.”

  Chapter 7

  The First Unveiling

  That morning, just before lunch, Teacher Bob’s class had their second art period of the new school year. This time they made collages. Near the end of class, Mr. Smock called for everyone’s attention and pointed to Queenie. “Since you were last to show your watercolor painting,” he said, “it’s only fair that you be the first to show your collage.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Smock,” said Queenie. She skipped to the front of the room and held up her collage. It was the same as her watercolor painting. But this time the heart was of colored paper, the arrow had been cut out of a magazine photo, and the letters Q & S were made of tiny glued-on shells.

  “Very nice,” said Mr. Smock. “You know, class, there’s nothing wrong with doing the same picture twice. Many great artists have treated the same subject over and over with different materials, from different angles, in different lighting. All right. Babs may go next.”

  But Queenie didn’t seem to want to sit down. She gazed dreamily up at Mr. Smock and said, “It’s a picture of a heart. And it’s also from the heart….”

  There were titters and giggles from the class. By now, Mr. Smock was the only bear in the room who didn’t know who S was.

  Mr. Smock smiled. “That’s very sweet, Queenie,” he said.

  Queenie sighed and said, “Not half as sweet as S.”

  The tittering and giggling got louder. What was she doing? Was she going to tell Mr. Smock she had a crush on him? Right there in front of the whole class?

  Just then the door swung open and in marched Too-Tall, carrying a large canvas. He snatched up an easel, took it to the front of the room, and placed the canvas on it. Over the canvas was draped one of Too-Too’s aprons. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept a wink. But he also had a proud grin on his face.

  “If there’s gonna be any unveiling of masterpieces around here,” he announced, “it’s gonna be right here, right now!” And, with that, he whipped the apron from the canvas, like a magician performing an amazing trick.

  When Too-Tall first burst into the room, Mr. Smock thought of sending him straight to Mr. Grizzmeyer’s office for being late and disrupting the class. But now, as he looked at Too-Tall’s painting, he began to have second thoughts. Yes, Too-Tall had disrupted the class. But what an odd way to do it! The cub had obviously put a lot of time and effort into his painting. It appeared to be the first oil painting he’d ever done, and it also looked as if he’d done it all by himself, without anyone to show him the tricks of the trade. The painting would surely never hang on the walls of the Bear Country Museum of Fine Art. But for a first try it was pretty good. Good enough for Mr. Smock to recognize a cut-glass vase and a bowl of some sort of purplish fruit. He decided to go easy on Too-Tall, at least until he could figure out what was going on with the cub.

  “Well, class,” said Mr. Smock. “We were going to leave oil painting until the end of the year, but it looks as if Too-Tall just couldn’t wait.” He walked over to the painting. “He’s done a kind of painting called a still life. Here we have a cut-glass vase—very difficult to paint, I might add—and here is a bowl of fruit. I can’t quite make out the kind of fruit, though. Are they plums, Too-Tall?”

  Too-Tall blushed. “No,” he said. “They’re supposed to be oranges.”

  The whole class laughed, even the rest of the gang. Too-Tall glared out at everyone, finally fixing his gaze on Vinnie. “And they woulda looked like oranges, too,” he said, “if the lamebrain who stole—er, bought—the paints for me hadn’t forgotten to get orange!”

  More laughter.

  “But you can make orange,” said Mr. Smock. “By mixing what two colors, class?”

  Queenie’s hand shot up first. “Red and yellow!” she said.

  Too-Tall’s blush got deeper. “Oh,” he mumbled. “I thought it was…red and blue.”

  “Wrong!” snarled Queenie. “That makes purple!” She pointed gleefully at Too-Tall’s purple oranges as the class broke into laughter again.

  Mr. Smock waved his arms for quiet. He wanted to point out some of the good features of Too-Tall’s painting. But before he had the chance, Too-Tall grabbed it and stomped out of the room.

  Chapter 8

  The Opposite Approach

  This time Too-Tall wasn’t gone for just a day. He was gone for several days. The gang knew exactly where he was, though. He was holed up in the clubhouse. But he wouldn’t let them in. For three days they went to the clubhouse and knocked on the door, and for three days Too-Tall growled at them to leave him alone. By the time they knocked again on the fourth day, they were really starting to worry about their poor boss.

  “It’s open,” they heard Too-Tall say.

  They found him pacing the floor. “No more Mr. Nice Guy,” he was grumbling. “No more friendly competition. It’s time to pull out all the stops!” He turned and faced the gang. “I tried to win Queenie back by making myself look good, and it didn’t work. Now I’m gonna use the opposite approach.”

  Vinnie frowned. “Make yourself look bad, boss?”

  “No, goofball!” cried Too-Tall. “Make Mr. Smock look bad!”

  “Yeah, boss,” said Skuzz. “I been thinkin’ about that. Remember what we did to Ms. Barr, that substitute teacher, last year? We could rig up another bucket of water in the art room ceiling—”

  “Nah!” said Too-Tall. “If we pull the same stunt, everybody’ll know who did it. It’s gotta be different. And I’ve got a doozie in mind. One that won’t just make Smock look bad, but’ll make Queenie hate him for the rest of her life!” He handed Skuzz a sheet of notebook paper and a tape measure. “Here are the measurements of Smock’s socalled masterpiece. I sneaked into the auditorium last night to check it out; it’s already on the stage for tomorrow’s big unveiling. I want you to take this tape measure, sneak into the art closet at school, and get me a canvas exactly the same size.”

  “What’re you gonna do, boss?” asked Smirk.

  “Never mind,” said Too-Tall. “For now all I’ll say is, if you think my days as a painter are over, you’ve got another think comin’!”

  Chapter 9

  The Second Unveiling

  Mr. Smock sat calmly on a folding chair on the auditorium stage, waiting for Mr. Honeycomb to finish his long-winded speech. Beside him stood the easel that held his veiled masterpiece. The fine-arts assembly was almost over. In a few moments, he would unveil his masterp
iece for all to see. Not just for the students and faculty, though. The press was there, too. Newspaper reporters lined the auditorium walls; photographers and camerabears were crowded into the narrow space in front of the stage.

  Mr. Smock smiled. But he wasn’t thinking only of the satisfaction of unveiling his beautiful portrait of George Grizzington, Bear Country’s first president. He was also thinking of the delicious home-cooked dinner he would have that evening at the McBears’ house. He lived alone, and he wasn’t much of a cook. In fact, he had the same thing for dinner every night: a peanut-butter-and-honey sandwich. That wouldn’t have been so bad if he didn’t also have a peanut-butter-and-honey sandwich every day for lunch. And breakfast, too. So, when the McBears had invited him to dinner, he’d accepted quicker than you can say “honey-baked salmon.” Which, by the way, was exactly what Mrs. McBear was famous for cooking.

  Mr. Honeycomb finally finished his speech and invited Mr. Smock to unveil his masterpiece. Mr. Smock rose and said to the audience, “It’s a portrait of someone you will all recognize.” Then he lifted the veil and draped it over the top of the easel.

  Instantly a volley of flashes went off as the photographers took their pictures. The only sounds at first were a few gasps of astonishment from the audience. Then some giggles. Giggles? Something was wrong…

  Mr. Smock turned to look at his masterpiece for the first time since its completion. His eyes widened in horror. It was gone! His beautiful portrait of George Grizzington had been replaced with a different one! And this one was not beautiful—not by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, it was the most hideous portrait he had ever seen! The head was all lumpy and the eyes were bugging out. The nose was just a pair of nostrils, and the ears were missing. And who had ever heard of George Grizzington wearing a red sweatshirt?