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  Wait a minute! Mr. Smock looked more closely at that red sweatshirt and realized that the portrait was not of George Grizzington. But it was indeed of someone the audience recognized. For painted in large block letters across the sweatshirt was QUEENIE.

  “I think it’s kind of interesting,” Babs Bruno was saying to Ferdy Factual. “It must be modern art.”

  “I don’t know how modern it is,” sneered Ferdy. “But it certainly is ugly.”

  By now the giggling had turned into roaring laughter. Roaring laughter mixed with hoots, hollers, hisses, and boos. Reporters scribbled furiously on their notepads. Photographers and camerabears fell all over each other to get good shots of both stage and audience.

  Mr. Smock waved his arms wildly at the audience. “This isn’t my masterpiece!” he cried.

  “No kidding!” yelled Too-Tall above the din. “It’s your messterpiece!” He settled back into his seat and surveyed the scene. “Ain’t this beautiful?” he said to Smirk. “Look at Queenie’s face. That crush of hers just crumbled into a million pieces!”

  “Yeah,” said Smirk. “I’ll bet she’d like to rip that awful portrait into a million pieces, too!”

  But just then Skuzz muttered, “Uh-oh. You got a problem, boss….”

  “Are you kiddin’, Skuzzo?” said Too-Tall. “Smooth sailing!”

  “Look at the underside of the veil draped over the easel,” said Skuzz. “It’s white.”

  “Big deal,” said Too-Tall. “So’s my mama’s aprons.”

  “That’s exactly what I was just thinkin’, boss,” said Skuzz. “Smock’s veil is blue. Remember how we covered your painting with your mom’s apron before you smuggled it in here last night? It looks like you accidentally left the apron on when you switched your painting with his. You musta put Smock’s veil right over the apron…”

  Too-Tall took a closer look. His stomach went all queasy.

  “I don’t know, boss,” Skuzz was saying. “Somebody’s bound to notice sooner or later.”

  Vinnie leaned over to Too-Tall and whispered, “Don’t give up hope, boss. Maybe everybody’ll think your mom did it.”

  Someone did notice. Someone in the audience. And sooner rather than later.

  Suddenly, Queenie dashed down the aisle. She leapt onto the stage and snatched the apron from the easel. “Aha!” she cried. She approached the audience, holding the apron high as flashes flashed and pens scribbled. She pointed a finger directly at Too-Tall.

  “You did this!” she cried. “You stole Mr. Smock’s masterpiece!”

  Chapter 10

  Dinner for Two

  Queenie peered into the bathroom mirror as she adjusted her bead necklace. She wanted to look perfect for her big dinner date with Mr. Smock. He would be there any minute now.

  She hoped he wouldn’t be mad at her for tricking him into coming. Naturally, he had assumed that the invitation to dinner was from her parents and that she was only the messenger. She hadn’t actually lied to him. When she’d invited him and he had replied, “Please tell your parents that I accept their kind invitation,” she had just run off without saying anything. She’d simply “forgotten” to mention that her parents would be out to dinner that night. Nor had she “remembered” to tell her parents that she’d invited Mr. Smock to dinner. And there was another convenient thing that had happened. Somehow it had just “worked out” that tonight was the night of the week when Bermuda always ate dinner early, then stayed glued to the TV set in Queenie’s room for several hours watching her favorite shows, which included “Brainless” and “Sabrina the Teenage Bear.” So it looked as though it would be just Mr. Smock and Queenie for dinner tonight!

  Out on the porch, Mr. Smock pressed the doorbell and stepped back to wait. He was very relieved that this dinner was really going to happen. Earlier, as he had looked at that hideous portrait of Queenie, it had occurred to him that the McBears might want to have him for dinner rather than to dinner. But now everything was fine: Too-Tall would probably get expelled, and he was sure Chief Bruno would find his masterpiece. (Even if Too-Tall had destroyed it, he could paint another one; the important thing was that nobody thought that he, Mr. Smock, had painted that horrible portrait of Queenie.)

  Honey-baked salmon, thought Mr. Smock. He was more than ready for it. He was even dressed up. Or, at least, neatly dressed. By his standards, that is. Ordinarily, his smock-jacket was covered with paint smears and crumbs from peanut-butter-and-honey sandwiches. Now it was covered only with paint smears, for he had carefully de-crumbed it. (The paint smears, of course, were permanent.)

  Queenie answered the door. “I should have known you’d be fashionably late,” she cooed. “You’re so grown-up!”

  “That’s because I’m a grownup,” said Mr. Smock.

  Queenie blushed and giggled. “And you’re so witty, too!” She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the living room.

  “Where are your parents?” asked Mr. Smock, looking around.

  “Oh, them…,” said Queenie. “Well…er, uh…actually, they’re out to dinner at the Red Berry. So I guess it’s just you and me.”

  Mr. Smock frowned. “But didn’t you tell them I accepted the invitation?”

  “No,” said Queenie.

  “Why not?”

  “Because they never asked?” said Queenie, with a sheepish grin. “Anyway, I’m making honey-baked salmon. It should be ready soon.”

  Just then Mr. Smock smelled something burning. “Did you say the salmon would be ready soon?” he asked Queenie, who nodded. “Well, if you’d said that about twenty minutes ago, you’d have been right.”

  Now Queenie smelled it, too. “Oh, no!” she cried, and ran to the kitchen, with Mr. Smock right behind her.

  Smoke was pouring out around the oven door. Spying a fire extinguisher on the wall, Mr. Smock grabbed it, flung open the oven door, and doused the flames. He and Queenie stared down at the charred and oozing mess in the pan.

  Queenie smiled nervously. “How about blackened honey-baked salmon?” she said. “I could wash off the white stuff…”

  But Mr. Smock wasn’t listening. He was too busy putting two and two together. Everything that had happened that week was falling into place: Queenie’s dreamy stares, her Q & S artwork, her tricking him into dinner for two…and Too-Tall’s behavior…. He must be sweet on Queenie! Yes, that was it! Queenie had a crush on her art teacher, and Too-Tall had a crush on her!

  “But you probably don’t like blackened salmon,” Queenie was saying. “Hey, I know! Let’s go to the Burger Bear for dinner!” It had just occurred to her that that was a way for the other cubs to see her on her date with Mr. Smock. What an impression that would make!

  “I think I’d better just go home,” said Mr. Smock. “You know it was wrong to trick me like this, don’t you, Queenie?”

  The excited look was wiped right off Queenie’s face. Tears welled up in her eyes. “But…but I didn’t lie…,” she said.

  “I’m very flattered that you wanted to have dinner with me, Queenie,” said Mr. Smock gently. “But I think you’d better talk with your parents about the way you feel about me. I’m going to call them right now.”

  Mr. Smock bit his lip as the tears spilled from Queenie’s eyes and ran down her face. She turned and trudged up the stairs toward her room.

  Chapter 11

  Easel Come, Easel Go

  Mr. and Mrs. McBear weren’t just angry at Queenie for tricking Mr. Smock. They were worried about her, too. She had never had a crush on a grownup before. Would she get over it as easily as she seemed to get over her other crushes?

  When they got home, they found Queenie in her bedroom, talking excitedly with Bermuda. “Oh, hi, guys,” she said, looking up. “We were just planning how I can get Too-Tall back. He must be pretty mad at me. I sure hope he doesn’t get expelled for stealing Mr. Smock’s masterpiece.”

  Mr. and Mrs. McBear glanced at each other and smiled. Apparently, Queenie’s crushes on grownups were just like her
crushes on cubs.

  “Too-Tall isn’t the only one who’s mad at you,” said Mr. McBear sternly.

  “Er, uh…right,” said Queenie. “I know I messed up by tricking Mr. Smock.”

  “You certainly did,” said Mrs. McBear. “And also by not telling us you invited him. And by not getting permission to invite him in the first place. You can have a few more minutes with Bermuda. Then I want you downstairs to talk with us about your punishment.”

  “Okay, Mom,” said Queenie.

  Mrs. McBear went downstairs, but Mr. McBear hung back. “We’re leaning toward grounding you for a week,” he added.

  Queenie shrugged. “Sounds fair, I guess.” Suddenly there was a shriek from downstairs, followed by Mrs. McBear’s voice moaning, “Oh, my goodness!”

  “Uh, better make that two weeks, Dad,” said Queenie. “You haven’t seen the kitchen yet.”

  Chapter 12

  The Apology

  Meanwhile, Mr. Smock was wondering what to do about Too-Tall. Earlier that day, he would have voted for expulsion. But now he was beginning to see it differently. For one thing, Too-Tall had already returned the stolen painting. When Mr. Smock had gotten home from Queenie’s, he’d found the painting on his doorstep. Draped over it for protection was another one of Too-Too’s aprons. And taped to the frame was a handwritten note.

  Mr. Smock read the note again and chuckled. Clearly, the apology was just Too-Tall’s way of trying to get out of being expelled. No, it wasn’t the apology that impressed him. It was the condition of the painting that impressed him. Too-Tall had obviously gone out of his way to take good care of it. There wasn’t a scratch or smudge on it. And the apron had been fastened to the frame with masking tape to keep it from slipping off.

  Mr. Smock’s mind wandered back to the day when Too-Tall had marched into art class and so proudly presented his still life. That painting, despite the purple oranges, showed a lot of talent and enthusiasm.

  Too-Tall didn’t take good care of my painting because he likes me, thought Mr. Smock. He did it because he likes painting.

  And that was what convinced Mr. Smock to show up at Too-Tall’s expulsion hearing.

  Chapter 13

  The Verdict

  “Hey, boss,” said Skuzz. “Look over there.”

  The gang was on the school playground for recess. Too-Tall looked to where Skuzz was pointing and saw Queenie prancing around in front of Cool Carl King. Bermuda, who stood next to Cool Carl, was glaring at her.

  “Hey, she’s flirtin’ with Cool!” said Too-Tall.

  “Ain’t that rotten?” said Smirk.

  “Yeah,” said Vinnie. “And after everything she’s done to you, boss.”

  “Get outta here!” said Too-Tall, with a laugh. “I think it’s great!”

  “Whaddya mean, great?” said Vinnie.

  “She’s not makin’ me jealous now,” replied Too-Tall, grinning. “She’s tryin’ to make me jealous. Like she used to. It’s her way of makin’ up with me.”

  “Congratulations, boss,” said Skuzz. “Now if only Mr. Paint Smear would come through for ya…”

  “Yeah,” muttered Too-Tall, suddenly losing his smile. His expulsion hearing was only a few hours away. And there was no way to predict what would happen.

  Later, when he went into Mr. Honeycomb’s office with his parents, Too-Tall was relieved to see Mr. Smock sitting between the principal and Mr. Grizzmeyer. Mr. Honeycomb began by explaining that he himself favored expulsion, but that Mr. Grizzmeyer and Mr. Smock wanted only a one-week suspension.

  Too-Tall suppressed a smile. He had expected Mr. Grizzmeyer to go easy on him, of course. Old Bullhorn coached all of Bear Country School’s sports teams, and Too-Tall was his best player in every sport. It looked as if he’d gotten an extra break because the biggest football game of the year—the one against the Beartown Bullies—was just over a week away. But if Mr. Smock hadn’t gone along with Mr. G, who knows what would have happened?

  “So I insisted on a compromise,” continued Mr. Honeycomb. “A two-week suspension.”

  Oh, no! thought Too-Tall. Two weeks? I’ll miss the big game!

  “However,” said Mr. Honeycomb, “Mr. Smock suggested a much better compromise, one that truly fits the nature of your misbehavior in this case, Too-Tall. Instead of a second week’s suspension, you must paint an oil painting of your own. That will give you at least a hint of how much work went into the painting you stole from Mr. Smock. And the result must meet with Mr. Smock’s approval.”

  All right! thought Too-Tall. I’ve already done an oil painting of my own!

  “Ah, but I just remembered something else that’s bothering me,” said Mr. Honeycomb. “The art supplies that were taken from the art closet without permission.”

  Too-Tall held his breath. Was this going to mess up the compromise?

  “Don’t worry about that, Mr. Honeycomb,” said Mr. Smock. “I promised all my students supplies for oil paintings. I’ll just figure that Too-Tall and his gang have used up half of the supplies they have coming to them. All right?”

  “Well,” said the principal, “if it’s all right with you, Mr. Smock, I suppose it’s all right with me, too.”

  Phew! thought Too-Tall. He looked over at Mr. Smock and managed to keep a straight face as the art teacher slipped him a wink.

  Chapter 14

  At Last! Honey-Baked Salmon!

  The gang was waiting in the hall for Too-Tall. They let out a cheer the moment their boss told them about the suspension.

  “Now we got a real shot at beatin’ the Beartown Bullies!” said Skuzz.

  “A shot?” protested Too-Tall. “The way I feel, I could beat ’em single-handed!”

  Mr. Smock came walking by, and Two-Ton stopped him. “I just wanted to say thanks for goin’ easy on my son,” said Two-Ton. “He may be a knucklehead most of the time, but he’s not really a bad cub. Son, don’t you have something to say to Mr. Smock?”

  “Sure, Pop,” said Too-Tall. “Thanks for helpin’ me out, Mr. Smock.”

  “Don’t mention it,” said the teacher.

  “I really appreciate it—”

  “Shush, boss!” hissed Vinnie. “He said not to mention it!”

  “That’s just an expression, birdbrain!” groaned Too-Tall.

  “Well, I’m glad to be of help to a budding young artist,” said Mr. Smock.

  Two-Ton looked puzzled. “Budding young artist? Are you and me talkin’ about the same cub?”

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Grizzly,” said Mr. Smock. “Too-Tall has natural talent as a painter.” He turned back to Too-Tall. “Now, I realize you’ve already done an oil painting of your own. But if you’d be interested in doing another, I’ll be glad to give you some pointers. I’ll even supply the paints and equipment.”

  Too-Tall’s eyes lit up. “You will?” He was about to blurt out, “Cool!” But he caught himself. In a casual tone of voice, he said, “That’d be okay, I guess.”

  “Good,” said Mr. Smock. “We’ll set up an appointment when your suspension is over.”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” said Too-Too. “When Too-Tall’s suspension is over, why don’t you join us to watch the big football game against the Beartown Bullies? Afterward we can have dinner at our place. I’ll make honey-baked salmon.”

  Now Mr. Smock’s eyes lit up. “Why, I’d be delighted!” he said.

  As the Grizzly family walked across the school parking lot to their car, Too-Tall was thinking about a lot of different things. About how lucky he was to get Queenie back as his on-again, off-again girlfriend. About how lucky he was to get only a week’s suspension for the dumb stunt he’d pulled. And about how lucky he was to have a top-notch artist teach him about painting.

  As he walked to his own car on the other side of the parking lot, Mr. Smock was also feeling lucky. But he wasn’t thinking a lot of different things. He was thinking the same thing over and over again:

  At last! Honey-baked salmon!

  About the Au
thors

  Stan and Jan Berenstain began writing the Berenstain Bears series in 1962, with The Big Honey Hunt. Since then, more than 250 Berenstain Bears books have been published and sales of the series are nearing 300 million. Stan and Jan have left behind a legacy of arguably the best-selling children’s book series ever. Making the books has long been a family affair, with son Mike Berenstain writing and illustrating new stories about everyone’s favorite Bear family. You can visit the Berenstains online at www.berenstainbears.com.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

  Chapter 1

  A New Face

  Another spring had come to Bear Country, and as cubs gathered in the schoolyard of Bear Country School to wait for the morning bell, there were signs that it wasn’t just the birds and the bees who were thinking of romance. Bermuda McBear was flirting with Cool Carl King. Gil Grizzwold was flirting with Babs Bruno. And, of course, spring wouldn’t have been spring without Queenie McBear flirting, too.

  Queenie rarely flirted with just one cub. And today was no exception. At first she flirted a little with her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Too-Tall Grizzly. Then she pranced over to Barry Bruin, put her arm in his, and whispered something in his ear. Barry blushed. Suddenly he noticed Too-Tall glaring at him and went a bit pale. He pulled away from Queenie and ran over to a group of his friends.