Mob School Survivor Read online

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

  Special thanks to Erin L. Falligant.

  Cover illustration by Amanda Brack

  Cover design by Brian Peterson

  Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-5107-1814-2

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-5107-1823-4

  Printed in the United States of America

  DAY 1: THURSDAY

  It all started with brussels sprouts.

  Tonight is my first night at Mob Middle School, which has me kind of creeped out. It's a time when a guy could really use a pork chop—burned to a crisp, just how I like it. But instead, Mom served me brussels sprouts!

  See, she's all into this new cookbook: 30 Days to a Greener You. Dad tells her, "Honey, you're as green as the day I met you." But that just makes her all weepy-eyed. Then they end up kissing or something. (GROSS!)

  So let me say that I am not a fan of this green diet. Creepers don't eat brussels sprouts. It's not normal!

  There's NOTHING normal about my family—except me. I'm pretty sure my egg was switched at birth. I have three sisters named Cate, Chloe, and Cammy. And not one of them is normal—not a single one. But I'll tell you more about them later.

  My name is also NOT normal. It’s not Colton or Cooper or Cody like other creepers I know. It’s GERALD. I was named after my dad, Gerald Creeper Sr.

  People say I look like him, but I don't really see it.

  Anyway, back to the brussels sprouts. I would have fed them to my pet dog, except I don't have one. I have a pet squid named Sticky.

  And if I tried to feed them to Sticky, Mom would notice the gross green hunks floating in the aquarium.

  So I tried to feed them to my baby sister when Mom wasn't looking. But Cammy just threw them across the floor like bouncy balls.

  When Dad scolded her, she scrunched up her face and did what she always does. She blew up. Yup, right there at the kitchen table. I almost wished I'd died in the blast and respawned somewhere else—like in a normal family's kitchen.

  I call Cammy the Exploding Baby because she has zero control over her emotions. She blows up when she's scared or mad or sad—or sometimes just really happy. And she NEVER gets in trouble. In this family, that kid can do no wrong. Seriously.

  I thought that when she blew up, that would be the end of the brussels sprouts. But it wasn't. Mom just piled them back on MY plate.

  When I complained, she used the old "There are starving mobs in the Nether who would DIE to have these brussels sprouts, mister."

  I could tell she wasn't going to give on this one. So she left me no choice—I had to do it. I started rapping.

  My favorite rapper is Kid Z. He taught me pretty much everything I know about rapping. And raps have gotten me through some tough situations.

  I thought Mom would laugh at my rap, or at least get the point and fry me up a pork chop. Instead she did something I'll NEVER forget—no matter how much I try. SHE started rapping TOO.

  We're going green, creep,

  Going green,

  Greenin' up

  like a veggie machine.

  She got all up in my face with these Mom dance moves. I tried to look away, but there she was again—creeping up on my other side!

  Going green.

  You know what I mean?

  Eat your sprouts,

  or I'll cause a scene.

  Too late—she was already causing one. I shut my eyes, but I could still hear Mom rapping and dancing across the kitchen. And let me tell you, it wasn't pretty. I'm practically scarred for life.

  That was when my older sister crept in. I didn't recognize Cate at first because she was wearing a red wig and pale skin. I call her the Fashion Queen because she likes to play around with makeup and different skins.

  I think she's trying to impress this guy named Steve. She talks about him all the time. He must not be all that into her, though, because I've never met him. I'm not even totally sure he exists.

  Anyway, Mom doesn't like it when Cate changes the way she looks. Mom said, "You should love yourself for the creeper that you are." Blah, blah, blah.

  I took that opportunity to sneak away from the table. But for a creeper, I'm not very good at sneaking around.

  "Where do you think you're going, buster?" Mom said right away.

  She made me go back to my brussels sprouts. But by then, DAD had somehow snuck away. I heard the front door click shut, and I saw a green blur pass by the window.

  Have I mentioned that Dad is an excellent creeper? That's not a good thing when I'm trying to get away with something. He can pretty much SMELL when I'm doing something wrong, and he shows up out of nowhere—ready to bust me. But I can see how his skills could come in handy during a brussels sprouts dinner.

  When Cate got tired of Mom giving her advice about boys, Cate started giving ME advice. She likes to do that—even when I don't ask for it. And it's usually about stuff I don't care about.

  But today, her advice was about surviving Mob Middle School. So I listened up.

  She said I just had to keep my head down and make it through the first two weeks. Then things would get better. She gave me all this advice about which mobs to avoid—and what would happen if I DIDN'T.

  I don't know if Cate was trying to HELP me with school or just freak me out. But she pretty much freaked me out.

  Then, when I thought things couldn’t get worse, my Evil Twin walked in. Chloe flicked one of Cammy’s burned brussels sprouts at me and said, “Hey, brother. Itch much?”

  See, I have itchy skin. It’s called psoriasis (SORE-EYE-A-SIS). I tell people that my “sis” Chloe is so ugly, she makes my eyes sore. And she teases me about my itchy skin every chance she gets.

  My twin sister and I couldn't be more different. I can't believe we ever shared the same egg! Chloe is always running around with her fuse half lit. But not me.

  Dad says I'm a "pacifist." The first time he said it, Chloe laughed. "Gerald sucks a pacifier," she said, pointing at the rubbery thing Cammy sucks on.

  But Dad says being a pacifist is a good thing. It means I like to keep the peace—that I use my brains instead of my blasts.

  So when Chloe used my forehead as a backboard for a brussels sprout, I just ignored her.

  Then she said, "Don't follow me to school tonight. I don't want anyone to know we're related." Like SHE was ashamed of ME.

  "Nooooo problem
," I told her. If she wants to pretend we're not related, that's fine by me.

  So I guess I'm on my own at middle school. Which means I need a plan—kind of like Mom's green diet plan, except better. WAY better.

  I need a SURVIVAL plan. I'm going to write it all down in this notebook. So here's my plan so far:

  30 Days to Surviving Mob Middle School

  • Keep a low profile.

  • Avoid skeletons and spider jockeys (those jocks think they rule the school).

  • Steer clear of zombies. They’re gross and annoying.

  • Never, ever look an Enderman in the eye. EVER.

  • Come up with a cool nickname.

  (Okay, most of that was Cate's advice. But the last part is mine.)

  See, I know I can't change my family. And I probably won't change my skin, like the Fashion Queen does. But I've been thinking that maybe I CAN change my name, sort of. I can come up with a nickname, right?

  I just have to think of the right one—a name that tells other kids right off the bat how cool I am. I have one hour to come up with something before school starts. And then I'll try it out. TONIGHT.

  DAY 2: FRIDAY

  Okay, so let's just say I learned A LOT at school last night. I learned that things don't always go according to plan.

  For starters, it's hard to keep a low profile when your new best friend is a super bouncy slime.

  My OLD best friend was Cash. We did everything together at Creeper Elementary. He liked art and writing, like me. And we made up lots of rap songs. And I only ever saw him blow up once—when someone threw his sketchbook into a lava pit.

  But then Cash moved away, and everything changed. Sure, there are other creepers to hang out with. But they're not like Cash and me.

  So I was ready to go it alone at school. But Sam bounced right over and introduced himself. He said, "Hey, I'm Sam Sebastian Slime." He actually used all three names, like I might confuse him with some other slime named Sam.

  You know what I noticed right away? That slime is ALWAYS smiling. Even when a skeleton snapped the strap of his backpack and sent him bouncing down the hall. He just jumped right up with a smile on his face, as if nothing had happened!

  But pretty much everyone else saw what happened so, like I said—there's no keeping a low profile with bouncy Sam around. I might as well cross that off my survival plan right now.

  I know what you're thinking: Sam's cheerfulness might get annoying. I'm kind of worried about that, too. But since Cash left, new friends haven't exactly crawled out of the woodwork like silverfish. So that slime might be my best bet for a new sidekick.

  Sam and I compared schedules and figured out that we have three classes together: history, science, and art. Sam was WAY too excited about Science and not nearly excited enough about Art. But I decided to let that slide.

  While we were looking at our schedules, this group of skeletons walked by and started messing with us. The tallest, skinniest one, who I heard the other skeletons call "Bones," grabbed my schedule. He said, "Jeepers, creeper. Looks like a pretty full day. Want me to clear your schedule for you?" Then he crumpled up my schedule with his bony fingers and tossed it to another skeleton, and they started playing keep-away.

  Bones probably wanted me to blow up, just to get me in trouble on my first day. But that wasn't going to happen. I almost told him I was a pacifist, but I'm pretty sure that word isn't in his vocabulary.

  Anyway, he finally flicked the crumpled-up paper in my face and walked away, laughing with his annoying skeleton friends. I could hear their bones rattling all the way down the hall. Boy, was Cate right about avoiding skeletons!

  She was pretty much right about ZOMBIES, too. This one zombie named Ziggy said something to me in the hall, but I couldn't understand him. He was eating a carrot and spewing chunks everywhere. YUCK. I got away from him as fast as I could, but he chased me all the way to math class. (Good thing zombies are slow!)

  When we got to class, he staggered over to my desk and handed me my notebook. Turns out, I dropped it in the hall, and he was chasing me to give it back. Well, I'm grateful and all—I sure don't want everyone reading about my 30-day plan. But now Ziggy thinks we're FRIENDS or something.

  During class, he passed me this note inviting me to dinner. He said his mom makes the best roasted flesh. I almost lost my brussels sprout breakfast right then and there. I really gotta ditch this guy.

  Oh, and I learned that it's really, REALLY hard not to look an Enderman in the eye.

  There's this one guy, Eddy Enderman. He's tall and cool and just leans against the lockers, like he's not scared of anything or anyone.

  I tried to take Cate's advice and look at his legs instead of his face. But it's like I couldn't control my eyeballs. They just crept right up! So I pretty much have to avoid looking at him altogether. Too bad he's, like, THE coolest guy at school.

  You know what else I learned? Brussels sprouts don't keep you full for very long.

  I knew I'd never get through third period without a snack. So before Sam and I headed off to history, we hit the vending machine.

  But it wouldn't take my emeralds! I could see the pork chops right through the glass, but I couldn't get to them. Sometimes I swear life has it in for me.

  Then Sam stuck his emeralds in. And, of course, the machine took those—no problem. He got his milk.

  I was about to protest when he told me that he wasn't TRYING to get milk. He actually wanted a cookie. But Mr. Cheerful didn't complain. He chugged the milk right down.

  Then he told me that he's something called "lactose intolerant." Let's just say that means he should never drink milk. Never EVER. A stinky, green cloud filled the hallway, and I had to hold my breath all the way to history.

  Believe it or not, keeping Sam away from milk wasn't my biggest lesson of the school night. That came during lunch, when I was finally ready to try out my new nickname.

  I waited until the table was full of kids. Sam and I were sitting in the middle of a bunch of creepers, zombies, and witches. I paid him an emerald to ask, really loudly, "What's your name again?"

  Then I said, "You can call me Kid G. You know, like the rapper—Kid Z."

  What I didn't plan for was my Evil Twin walking by at that exact moment. "Did you say to call you Itchy?" she asked, snickering.

  Yup, she actually teased me about my itchy skin in public. At SCHOOL. Around OTHER KIDS. I still can't believe it. I mean, I always knew Chloe was evil, but I never thought she'd sink that low.

  I wanted to sink too—get swallowed up by a big hole in the ground. Where's Cammy the Exploding Baby when you need her?

  I hoped no one had heard Chloe, but of course, EVERYONE did. And they thought I said my nickname actually WAS "Itchy" instead of "Kid G." I tried to tell them what I'd really said, but there was no going back—especially after the skeletons at the next table over got involved.

  So now my new nickname is "Itchy," which I think we can all agree is NOT cool.

  I learned a lot of things last night, that's for sure. But my biggest lesson is to avoid Chloe at all times. I mean, Ziggy Zombie is annoying. And the skeletons are bony bullies. But my Evil Twin did the most damage. I'm pretty sure a nickname like "Itchy" will stick around for a while.

  So I might as well cross another line off my 30-Day Survival Plan. It's starting to look pretty skimpy now.

  Oh, well. I can always try again with the nickname thing when I get to high school—if I make it that far.

  DAY 3: SATURDAY

  So Sam invited me for a sleepover at his house today. And let me tell you, after another rough night at school, I need something to look forward to.

  The first thing I saw when I got to school last night was a note on my locker that said, "Got cooties?" I tore it off and crumpled it up. Then I opened my locker. BIG mistake.

  When I swung open the door, about a gazillion SILVERFISH crawled out. They were everywhere! Kids were screaming and running away from me, as if it was MY fault or
something.

  I'm pretty sure Bones and his skeleton gang are behind the silverfish—they're the ones who started the cootie jokes. Anyway, I can still feel those bugs crawling on me. I had to empty my backpack, like, seventeen times to make sure there weren't any left.

  Just the IDEA of those bugs crawling on me made me feel itchy. So I went through the whole school night trying not to scratch—for two reasons. First, scratching makes my psoriasis worse. Mom is always after me to stop scratching. Second, the last thing I needed was for anyone to actually SEE me being itchy.

  I waited till the hall was empty, and then I rubbed my back like crazy against a locker. Of course, that's the exact moment when a group of witches came around the corner. They wrinkled their noses and ran away from me, like they were afraid they'd "catch" my itchiness or something.

  So things are pretty much going from bad to worse on the nickname front.

  Anyway, enough about that. Sam wanted to come to my house today instead of going to his, but I shot that down—for three reasons. The first reason is obvious. My Evil Twin lives in this house, and she'd have way too much fun ruining our sleepover.