THIRTY

Everyone grew quiet. The whole school, all 250 of us. We were standing in front of the statue of the Unknown Sanitation Worker. Of course, even though they call us Garbage Pail Kids, we aren’t into garbage. But we are into trophies.

Who doesn’t want a shiny silver trophy to brag about?

We all want to be winners. It doesn’t matter that the contest smelled to high heaven.

And so we all stood there in silence, leaning toward Principal Grunt at the podium. Waiting . . .

“The winner grunt is . . .” he repeated.

But he didn’t get to make his announcement.

Everyone gasped and cried out as a big dog came bounding across the grass. The dog’s ears were flat against its head and its tail wagged furiously as it galloped toward the podium.

Nervous Rex bumped me from behind. “H-hey—isn’t that our dog? How did Pooper get out of the house?”

I shielded my eyes from the sun with one hand so I could see better.

Yes! It was Pooper!

And to prove beyond a doubt that it was our dog, he stopped in front of Principal Grunt, squatted—and began to poop.

Kids laughed and shouted.

Principal Grunt’s face turned red as a tomato and he shook the trophy angrily in the air.

“Pooper is ruining the whole award c-ceremony!” Nervous Rex cried.

I laughed. “I think he’s improving it!”

Rex began to tremble. “If Grunt finds out he’s our dog, he’ll find a way to punish us.”

“Wow! Pooper must have had a big breakfast!” I cried. “Look at him go!”

Two teachers ran out to chase Pooper away. But our dog never moves until he has finished his business.

At the side of the podium, Babbling Brooke began to jump up and down and cheer.

“GO, POOPER!

“GO, POOPER!

“YOU’RE SUPER!

“BETTER GET A SCOOPER!

“GO, POOPER!”

Cranky Frankie shook his head. “She’ll cheer for anything,” he muttered.

“I sure hope she doesn’t try another cartwheel,” Nervous Rex said. “If she falls facedown . . .”

Pooper finally finished. And then trotted away to a standing ovation.

His head was high, and his tail was wagging. I wondered if he knew that everyone was cheering for him.

I could see Principal Grunt at the side of the podium. He was bent over, puking his guts out into the trophy cup.

Coach Swettypants stepped up to the microphone. “Did anyone bring a shovel?” he shouted.

Of course no one brought a shovel. Why would they?

“Well . . . be careful, people!” he said. “Walk around it! Walk around it!”

Good advice.

Swettypants turned and watched Principal Grunt throwing up into the silver trophy. Then he turned back to the microphone. “We’ll get that trophy cleaned later,” he announced. “Don’t worry. It will be as good as new!”

Everyone grew quiet again.

“Principal Grunt has a very sensitive nose,” Coach said. “So he’s a little under the weather right now. That leaves it to me to announce the Smellville Middle School winner of the Garbage of the Year Award.”

Coach held up a small card with the winning name on it. “And the winner is . . .”