Creepin' Through the Snow Read online

  DAY 3: SUNDAY (NIGHT)

  I woke up again tonight to my sister’s ugly mug, demanding her daily emeralds. And you know what I said? I said NO.

  Just like that. NO.

  I thought she might blow up right there on the spot, but instead she got this creepy smile on her face. She said she was just going to have to bring my sled into the kitchen to show Mom and Dad. “For your own good,” she said, like she was doing me a favor by saving me from a life of crime or something.

  “Go right ahead,” I told her.

  So she poked her head under the bed and came up red as an angry cave spider. “Where is it?” she demanded.

  I told her that I took the sled back to the store. And got my money back.

  “Well, if you have money, give me the emerald you owe me for today,” she hissed.

  And I said, “For what?”

  “For not telling about the sled!” she almost shouted.

  “WHAT sled?” I asked.

  That time, she DID blow. Gunpowder floated down around us, and the water in Sticky’s aquarium churned like a lava pit.

  But you know what? It was WAY worth it, just seeing the look on my Evil Twin’s face. Plus, I got to check something off my 30-day plan today.

  There’s still a lot left on the list. I mean, I’m hoping Dad comes through for me on the job front, with something that doesn’t require TOO much work. (I’m just a kid, after all.)

  But it’s only Day 3. I’ll give the old man some more time.

  DAY 4: MONDAY

  So last night, I got the best idea for how to make more emeralds. I’d be swimming in them! It was all thanks to Ziggy Zombie—and believe me, THAT’S not something I say very often.

  When we got to the sledding hill, Sam was acting all mopey. He said I wasn’t giving him enough turns on the sled.

  I almost pointed out that it was MY sled. But I guess he’s kind of doing me a favor by hiding it from Chloe, so I had to be nice. I said maybe we could try riding together on the sled. I already knew we wouldn’t fit, but I thought I’d at least get points for offering.

  When Sam shot that idea down, I had an even better one. I challenged him to a race down the hill. I said I’d ride the boring old sled and HE could slide down on his belly.

  Sam actually thought that sounded pretty fun. And it WAS fun—until he started laughing. And jiggling. And hiccupping. And slid totally out of control. That slime’s pretty fast, but he really needs to work on his steering.

  He bounced a few times and then started to roll. By the time he reached the bottom of the hill, he looked like a ginormous snowball.

  Did I mention that he crash-landed into someone’s snow fort? Yeah, it wasn’t pretty.

  And for a second, I was SURE the fort belonged to Bones or some other spider jockey. Because that’s the kind of thing that happens to Sam all the time—the slime’s got really bad luck.

  Turns out, it was Ziggy Zombie who crawled out! And he wasn’t mad at all. People complain about zombies moaning and groaning about stuff, but Ziggy is actually pretty cheerful—at least when we let him hang out with us.

  When Sam offered to help Ziggy fix his fort, he gave us a goofy green grin. And then we all got to work.

  I thought re-building the snow fort was going to seriously cut into our sledding time, but then Willow Witch showed up. She’d been brewing a potion of swiftness, and she offered to share it with us so that we could build the fort even FASTER.

  Well, my parents raised me right. I always say NO to stuff like that. Who knows what Willow puts in those potions? Spider eyes? Rabbit’s feet? Ah, no, thank you.

  But Sam and Ziggy each took a swig of potion from the bottle. And three minutes later, that fort was not only fixed, it was BIGGER than ever. Big enough for all of us to fit inside. So like I said, sometimes Willow Witch can be kinda cool.

  We were all sitting in the fort when we got to talking about the holidays. Willow said her family was getting ready to celebrate the solstice, which is the shortest day of the year—and longest night. But this year, she said, solstice was going to fall on a school night. What a waste of extra time!

  Ziggy said his family tradition was giving up eating rotten flesh for a week. I almost got up and did my happy dance when I heard that. No rotten flesh hanging from Ziggy’s teeth for a WHOLE week? Now THAT was something to celebrate!

  Sam started to talk about how his family lights torches every night for like eight nights in a row. But Ziggy interrupted him. He couldn’t wait to tell us how HUMANS celebrate something called “Christmas” in the village.

  See, Ziggy lives near a village and likes to stagger around at night, moaning and scaring villagers. It’s a zombie thing, he says. And because of all that moaning and groaning, he knows more about humans than any of us do. So when he started to talk about Christmas, we all shut right up and listened.

  Here’s what Ziggy said about Christmas. (I don’t know if I believe it all or not, but it SOUNDS kind of fun.)

  •

  Some old, fat, jolly guy named Santa visits ALL the human kids in a single night and brings them presents. Yup, every last kid, Ziggy said. When I asked how an old guy could get around the whole Overworld in one night, Willow said maybe he uses a potion of swiftness. I figure that’s a pretty good guess.

  •

  Santa rides a sled pulled by critters called reindeer. Ziggy says they’re like horses except they have these branches sticking out of their heads. Oh, and they can fly. (I’m not so sure about that last part. Ziggy might have a few of his facts wrong.)

  •

  Santa lands his sled on rooftops and comes down chimneys. Before I could ask Ziggy how, Willow said maybe Santa uses a potion of fire resistance so he doesn’t get burned by the hot lava in the fireplace. (She’s pretty smart. I can see why Sam likes her—not that I would EVER tell him that.)

  •

  The kids hang stockings by the fireplace. It’s how they get rid of old socks that don’t match, Ziggy said. And then Santa puts little presents in them, like apples, to make them smell better.

  •

  Santa puts bigger presents under dead trees that humans decorate and put in their living rooms.

  •

  Before he leaves, Santa drinks all of the kids’ hot cocoa and eats their cookies.

  Willow thought that was really mean, but then Ziggy said, “No! The kids love it when he comes!” He said that humans love Santa so much that they dress up like him. They wear padded suits and long white beards so that they look like the real Santa. And parents actually pay emeralds to have their kids sit on those fake Santas’ laps.

  Well, that’s when I REALLY started paying attention. If I wanted to make a few emeralds, maybe all I had to do was dress up like this Santa dude.

  I must have said that out loud, because Willow shot it down right away. She said there was NO WAY villager kids would believe I was Santa. She said they’d scream and run away from a green-faced Santa, like they do when they see zombies. “Right, Ziggy?” she asked.

  He said she was right. But then he said baby ZOMBIES would LOVE to see a green-faced Santa—especially his baby sister, Zoe. And then Sam said his mini slime brothers would want to meet a green-faced Santa too.

  “Would your parents pay emeralds?” I asked.

  They both nodded. So . . .

  BAM!

  That’s how it all started—my master plan for making emeralds to buy gifts for Creeper’s Eve. We’re going to have the Santa party for all the little mobs next Saturday.

  I mean, the plan did change a little. I decided SAM should be the Santa, because he’s pretty much the fattest and jolliest mob I know. And while he’s entertaining all the baby mobs, I’ll perform my new rap song. Did I mention I’m a rapper?

  Willow wanted to know what my rap song was about. “What does it have to do with Santa?” she asked.

  I told her it was ALL about Santa. But the truth was, I hadn’t written it yet.

  So that’s why I�
�m staying up late this morning. If we’re going to do the Santa party next weekend, I’ve got to get going on this rap. This is what I have so far:

  Oops! Sorry about that.

  I sort of fell asleep. Guess I’ll write more tomorrow.

  DAY 7: THURSDAY

  Did I say I’d write more on Tuesday? Well, I couldn’t, because I’ve been dealing with a LOT this week, let me tell you.

  ALL my friends and I have done at school is fight about the Santa party.

  I know, last time I wrote the party was really coming together. But let me catch you up on what’s happened since then.

  Monday night in math class, Ziggy and I disagreed about how much to charge for the party. Ziggy and I have never disagreed about ANYTHING—except about whether he should keep his mouth closed when he chews. (I sit by him at lunch, and it’s totally disgusting.)

  But on Monday, Ziggy said he thought I was charging too much for the Santa thing. Personally, I think he should leave the business stuff to me. He’s not the brightest zombie in the pit. Plus, I think I had a pretty good plan. Here’s what I was thinking:

  Sounds good, right? But Ziggy didn’t think so. Then our math teacher yelled at us for talking during class and separated us. Which was probably a good thing.

  Then Tuesday night, at lunch, Willow said we should serve eggnog at the party. Egg WHAT? I didn’t even know what that was. I figured it was one of her weird witches’ brews. When she said the first ingredient was MILK, I immediately put the kibosh on the eggnog.

  Why? Because my good buddy Sam is lactose intolerant. That means his body doesn’t know what to do with milk. If he drinks it, his green belly bloats up with gas. And then? Bad things happen. REALLY bad things.

  Yes, I’m sorry to say that I speak from experience. And let me tell you, the slime knows how to clear a room.

  I tried to tell Willow about the lactose-intolerant thing, but for some reason, Sam kept interrupting me and changing the subject. So I guess he hasn’t told Willow ALL his secrets yet.

  Lucky for Sam, Eddy Enderman teleported into the lunchroom just then, and he kind of distracted me.

  I was about to ask Eddy why we didn’t see him on the sledding hill over the weekend. Most sixth-graders are afraid to talk to Eddy, because he’s pretty much the coolest kid at school.

  Plus, it’s hard to talk to a mob when you can’t look him in the eye.

  But I know a few things about Eddy, just like I know a few things about Sam. Here’s what I know:

  •

  Eddy’s real name is Louis—Louis Edward Enderman.

  •

  His mom, Mrs. Enderwoman, is my history teacher. She’s kind of strict, so I really try not to look HER in the eye.

  •

  Eddy doesn’t like rain or getting wet. (Now that I think about it, that’s probably why he wasn’t out sledding over the weekend.)

  •

  If you look him in the eye, he WILL teleport to you. But he’s not looking to pick a fight. He’s too cool for that. He just says stuff like, “What’s up, dude?” And sometimes, when I’m brave enough to talk to him, he gives really good advice.

  Anyway, the bell rang before I could talk to Eddy. But by then, Sam and Willow were done talking about eggnog. So I kind of missed my chance to shoot that idea down.

  Then, in the middle of art class, Sam and I got into a fight about what kind of Christmas TREE to have at the Santa party.

  See, I thought we should decorate one of those dead trees like the villagers do. I mean, if we’re going to do Christmas, we should do it right. Right?

  But Sam thought we should decorate a CACTUS. Because then it wouldn’t have to be dead. He even drew a picture of the cactus decorated in all these twinkly lights. Our art teacher, Ms. Wanda, came by and gave him a compliment on it, which really didn’t help matters.

  See, I realized right then and there that I know all of Sam’s secrets, but he doesn’t know ME at all. If he did, he’d know that creepers and cactuses (cacti? cactis? cactusies?) are kind of like creepers and cats. We just don’t get along.

  How could Sam not KNOW that about me?

  I didn’t bother explaining it. But I decided to tell Willow about Sam’s little gas problem first chance I get. Because I am NOT going to perform at a Santa party with cactuses AND a stinky slime.

  NO way.

  DAY 9: SATURDAY

  So just in case you were wondering, the party was an EPIC fail. And I blame Santa. Santa SAM, that is.

  Do you know what that slime planned behind my back? Well, I guess Willow and ZIGGY knew the plan, because Ziggy could barely keep it to himself.

  As soon as I got to the party, Ziggy said they had a surprise for me. He was grunting with excitement, and I could tell that the secret was gonna spill right out of his mouth like a hunk of rotten-flesh sandwich.

  Willow could tell too, because she slapped her hand over his mouth. GROSS.

  She wiped her hand on her robe afterward, but I hope she has zombie germs now. That would serve her right. You know why? Because she and her BOYFRIEND totally TRICKED me.

  See, Sam bounced over all innocent-like and told me to close my eyes. Which I did. Partly because he looked so goofy in his Santa outfit, and I knew if I kept looking at him, I’d burst out laughing. And partly because I TRUSTED him.

  HUGE mistake, that was.

  He and Willow spun me in a circle, and when I opened my eyes, I was all wrapped up in twinkly lights. WHAT???

  Then Sam announced that I was the Christmas tree for the party. “You didn’t want a cactus tree, so we decided to have a CREEPER tree!” He laughed so hard, his whole body jiggled.

  I thought it was just one of Willow’s dumb jokes. But as mobs and parents started showing up, I realized Sam and Willow were going to LEAVE me wrapped in those lights. ALL NIGHT. I was going to have to perform my RAP dressed like a talking, twinkling Christmas tree. And that’s the kind of thing that can ruin a rapping career, let me tell you.

  I ordered Sam to unwrap me PRONTO, but he completely ignored me. And as I watched him playing a jolly, jiggly Santa to baby zombies and sloppy mini slimes, my insides started bubbling like lava. I started to hiss. I ALMOST exploded right there on the spot (and I really try not to do that very often).

  Then I saw that I was scaring one of the little zombies who was waiting in line to see Santa. It was Zoe, Ziggy’s baby sister! I met her once at a sleepover. But now that I was all wrapped up like a Christmas tree, she didn’t recognize me. (Go figure.)

  I felt bad for scaring her. But when I saw her let a mini slime barge in line in front of her, I figured something out. She wasn’t scared of ME. She was scared of SANTA.

  So I crouched down next to her—which kind of hurts when you’re wrapped up in twinkly lights. I asked her if she wanted to see Santa, and she shook her head. So I told her I was the Talking Tree and that she could talk to me instead of Santa, if she wanted to.

  She smiled and whispered something in my ear. Normally I don’t let zombies get anywhere CLOSE to my face. But Zoe is a whole lot cuter than Ziggy—and not nearly as stinky and gross. (Too bad baby zombies have to grow up.)

  Anyway, do you know what she said? She said Santa doesn’t WIKE her. (Translation: Santa doesn’t LIKE her. She was kind of slurping on her thumb.) She said he doesn’t come see her because she’s naughty and doesn’t go to sleep.

  Well, I don’t know much about this Santa guy. But I think it’s pretty unfair that village kids get to meet him and baby zombies don’t. I told Zoe she wasn’t naughty for staying awake.

  “LOTS of kids stay awake,” I said. “Like kids in the Nether. THEY don’t sleep. And it’s not because they’re naughty. It’s because they don’t have beds. Do you know what happens to beds in the Nether?”

  Zoe’s eyes got wide and she shook her head.

  “They blow up!” I whispered.

  “So there’s no sleeping in the Nether.” I made a funny face, and Zoe giggled. I thought I handled that one pre
tty well. Turns out, I was kind of a natural at this Talking Tree thing.

  Before Zoe ran back to her parents, she handed me a crumpled-up piece of paper. It was a drawing of a tiny green blob next to a big red blob. Someone, maybe Ziggy, had written “Zoe” under the green blob and “Santa” under the red one.

  But Zoe didn’t give it to Santa. She gave it to ME.

  Well, I had to admit, that was pretty cute. I didn’t even mind that the paper was probably full of zombie germs. I smoothed it out and stuck it under the row of twinkly lights that was stretched across my stomach like a belt.

  But by the time I stood back up, the line of kids in front of Sam was GONE. Parents were leaving—RUNNING for the door, actually. And I hadn’t even done my rap!

  What in the Overworld was going on???

  That’s when I saw Santa Sam, sitting in the middle of a GINORMOUS green cloud, holding a cup of eggnog. Looking like he’d just ruined Christmas.

  GREAT.

  I couldn’t get out of that room fast enough. I mean, it’s pretty much impossible to run when your legs are wrapped in twinkly lights. Plus, I almost slipped on a mini slime on my way out the door.

  So like I said, the party was a total disaster. We earned a few emeralds. But after Sam and I split them, there were barely enough left over to pay Willow back for the eggnog ingredients. I bet she’ll never make THAT again.