New Creep at School Page 3

  Baby Mooshrooms? Sure enough, one popped out of the herd of Mooshrooms that was grazing beside us on the hilltop. It wandered over on wobbly legs to get a drink from its mother. Now, I’m not big on baby ocelots or baby wolves like some mobs are. But that baby Mooshroom was REALLY cute. Like Cat Cam cute.

  Sam was oohing and ahing over that thing as if it were Moo herself. That’s when Mr. Zane pulled some wheat out of his pocket and handed it to Sam. He said that if Sam held out the wheat, the baby Mooshroom would follow him. And sure enough, it did!

  I kind of lost track of Connor for a minute, because I was so into that baby Mooshroom. Sam and I led it down the hill and back up again.

  But as we were walking back toward the herd of Mooshrooms, something EXPLODED. At first, I thought it was Chloe. But then I remembered my Evil Twin was back at Mob Middle School.

  When a rocket lit up the night sky, I knew exactly what had happened. But why didn’t Connor wait for me? And why would you set off a rocket in the MIDDLE of a herd of Mooshrooms?

  Well they mooed like the Overworld was ending. And they scattered off that hilltop faster than an Enderman can teleport.

  By the time Sam and I got to Mr. Zane, there wasn’t a Mooshroom left in sight—and he had a bowl of mushroom stew dripping off his face. UH-OH. He was one mad zombie.

  I looked around for Connor, but he was long gone. Apparently he’s good at sneaking away, just like my dad. That’s one skill I REALLY have to learn.

  Well Mr. Zane made us all march right back to the boat. Then he asked which one of us brought fireworks.

  Yup, you know where this is going.

  I stayed quiet, but Ziggy Zombie opened his mouth. (I mean, his mouth is pretty much ALWAYS hanging open, right?) He said that Mr. Zane should see the fireworks in MY backpack. I think he was trying to pay me a compliment—not get me in trouble. But that’s proof that the zombies should pretty much leave the thinking to us creepers.

  So Mr. Zane busted ME for having fireworks, even though I hadn’t set a SINGLE ONE of them off. Not fair! And where was Connor during all this? I don’t know. He finally showed up walking along the shoreline, whistling—with NO backpack. I guess he had destroyed the evidence somewhere.

  After Mr. Zane lectured me on having respect for critters, Connor crept over and told me not to worry about it. “That was FUN,” he said. “Did you see those Mooshrooms run for the hills?”

  I didn’t really say much, but when I looked up, Eddy Enderman was standing right in front of us. He totally ignored Connor, but he stared right at me.

  And then he was gone.

  What did he mean by that? I didn’t know. But Connor was suddenly looking at me the way I’d been looking at him for the last two weeks. With RESPECT.

  “So you know Eddy?” he said.

  “Sure,” I said. “I mean, his real name is Louis. But that’s kind of a secret he shared with me.” I don’t know why I threw that last part in there. Probably just to prove to Connor that Eddy and I were friends—at least SORT of friends. And I scored some big points with Connor, I could tell.

  That should have felt great. I had finally shown Connor how awesome I was (thanks to Eddy Enderman)!

  But I didn’t really feel like being around him right now. In fact, I didn’t even care if he sat by me on the boat ride home. Because all I could think about was the TROUBLE I was going to be in.

  Mr. Zane was the least of my worries. It was MOM that a creeper really had to worry about. Good thing I hadn’t thrown that mushroom sweater overboard. I was going to have to wear it every day, just to try to get back on Mom’s good side.

  When we got back to shore this morning, Mr. Zane told me he’d be having a talk with my parents. “I’ll be calling them,” he promised.

  GREAT.

  That means I won’t get a wink of sleep today. Or if I do, I’ll be having daymares about angry Mooshrooms and itchy sweaters.

  So, yeah. Day 13 was not a good one in my overall plan. But as Mom always says, the sun will go down again tomorrow. So, I’ve just gotta cross my feet and hope that I won’t be grounded for the rest of my life.

  DAY 14: WEDNESDAY

  YIKES.

  Never make your mom mad when she’s holding a pair of knitting needles.

  I thought she was going to knit a giant spider web and wrap me up in it so that I’d never, ever be able to leave the house again.

  She probably would have, except she ran out of yarn—AGAIN.

  So instead, she made me hand over my fireworks. And she said I had to write an apology letter to Mr. Zane and the whole sixth grade class.

  I thought about Connor Creeper and that smile he uses to charm teachers and get out of trouble. I tried that smile tonight.

  And I decided to share a couple of interesting facts about Mooshrooms with Mom, too—just to prove that the field trip hadn’t been a total waste of time.

  “Mom, did you know that you can shear the mushrooms right off a Mooshroom?”

  “Don’t interrupt me when I’m punishing you, Gerald,” she said.

  I looked to Dad for help, but he was wearing this turtleneck that Mom had knit. And the neck was so high, it pretty much covered his mouth. I don’t think he could have said anything even if he’d wanted to.

  So I just kept talking. “I was thinking, Mom, that maybe you should get a sheep. And you could shear the sheep for wool. And never run out of yarn again!”

  Dad’s eyes got really big when I said that. But Mom actually stopped to think about it. Genius, right?

  Then she caught on to what I was doing and marched me off to my room without dinner. I could smell the burnt pork chops and roasted potatoes from my room, which was REALLY unfair.

  The more my stomach growled, the more mad I got at Ziggy Zombie for ratting me out to Mr. Zane. So when I sat down to write that apology letter, I came up with something else instead.

  It’s not my best work. But what can I say? I’m STARVING. And there are burnt pork chops pretty much right outside my door.

  An artist really can’t be expected to work under these conditions. Or to write apology letters.

  DAY 15: THURSDAY

  I’m supposed to go straight TO school and straight HOME from school. Those are Mom’s rules.

  So when Connor asked me to hang out after school this morning, I said no. It wasn’t easy. I mean, I’ve been wanting to be friends with this guy for two straight weeks now.

  But I’m still kind of peeved that he let me take the fall for his fireworks show on Mushroom Island. PLUS I’m grounded. So I told him maybe another time.

  “That’s too bad,” he said. “I’m planning a big adventure tomorrow after school. I thought you’d be just the guy to go with me.”

  Huh? What am I supposed to do with THAT information?

  When I didn’t say anything, he said, “It’ll take like half an hour. No big deal. Just think about it. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  Then he crept off, as if HE were the one who had someplace to be.

  I thought about it on my walk home. An adventure? With Connor? I wondered if it would be like the adventures Cash and I used to take to the swamp. Or to a village nearby, where we’d spy on villager kids.

  But Connor’s adventure was only going to take half an hour. So . . . I figured I could probably squeeze that in. Even while I’m grounded. I mean, how could I say no?

  By the time I got home, I’d made up my mind. That was when I heard the sheep bleat from the backyard.

  That’s right. A SHEEP. In the backyard. Mom was out there trying to shear it, but it looked like Dad was taking the brunt of it all. I’m pretty sure he got a good kick in the kneecaps.

  “That’s no sheep,” he grumbled as he pushed past me into the house. “That’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

  I don’t know what he meant by that. But the sheep DID look pretty grumpy.

  And by the time Mom came in with a bucket full of white wool, she did, too. “That sheep was YOUR idea, mister,” she said.
“So you’re going to help me take care of it.”

  I decided that the first order of business would be to come up with a name for IT. So I went out to meet the sheep and get a better sense of its personality. I did pretty well with my pet squid. I named him “Sticky,” and he’s definitely a squid that likes to stick around, staring at me from behind the glass.

  “Take Cammy with you,” said Mom as I headed outside. “But don’t let her near the sheep.”

  REALLY?

  Everyone knows that Cammy’s going to want to be near the sheep. And Cammy ALWAYS gets what she wants—or she blows sky high.

  Maybe Mom was still punishing me for the Mushroom Island thing. But, whatever. I led my baby sister out into the grass and hoped for the best.

  That poor sheep looked so NAKED! He had this white woolly head, but his body was tan where Mom had shaved all his wool off. “You know what you need, buddy?” I asked. “You need a PONCHO. It would cover all your bare parts, and you could stick your head through the hole in the middle.”

  He bleated. I guess he agreed with me.

  Then an idea struck—PONCHO would be the perfect name! I said so out loud. But Cammy shook her head.

  “Sock,” she said pointing toward one of the sheep’s legs.

  “You want to name the sheep SOCK?” I asked.

  She nodded. So that’s how the naked sheep in our backyard got its name. But I wasn’t about to try to put socks on it. I was going to learn from Dad’s mistake and keep my distance.

  Sock kept trying to jump the fence between our yard and the neighbor’s. But he couldn’t get high enough.

  And then Sir Coughs-a-Lot started strutting across the neighbor’s yard, TEASING Sock about the fact that he couldn’t get into that yard.

  See? That’s why I don’t like cats. They give off WAY too much attitude. Where’s a mushroom to fling when you need one?

  Anyway, it’s time for bed, and I’m not tired. So I’m TRYING to count sheep. I’ve heard that helps. You’re supposed to like imagine them jumping over fences in your mind, and count each one as it jumps. But MY sheep can’t make it over the fence. So counting Sock isn’t going to get me anywhere.

  Instead, I’m going to imagine Connor’s “big adventure” tomorrow. Maybe it’ll be something good—something SO fun I’ll forget all about Mushroom Island. And Connor and I will come out of it buddies. This could be our big breakthrough!

  I can see it now: Connor and me skydiving high above the Overworld. Or sledding down hills in the Taiga. Or battling the Ender Dragon side by side. I mean, none of that is probably going to happen in half an hour. But what can I say?

  A creeper’s gotta have dreams.

  DAY 16: FRIDAY

  So THAT’S IT. I’m going to jail.

  Any minute now, the creeper cops are going to come pick me up and throw me behind bars. Slam the door shut and throw away the key.

  I mean, I should have KNOWN it would come to this! Dad told me a few months ago that I come from a long line of convicts. At least one anyway: a great uncle on Dad’s side who blew up a village well. I saw his mug shot myself, clipped out of the Creeper Chronicle.

  The minute I saw the photo of my Convict Creeper Uncle, I should have turned my life around. I should have thrown on a purple robe like Cate’s and joined the priesthood in the nearest village.

  But I didn’t. Instead, I tried to buddy up to some creep named Connor. And now my life is over. O. V. E. R.

  I might as well practice my confession now.

  You see, officers, I stole a few emeralds. Yup, right out of the school vending machine. I didn’t MEAN to. I guess I was more like the lookout guy. But I didn’t know what was happening!

  It all went down like this: Connor met me after school, and he said I was in for a real treat. We tiptoed back into the school after everyone left, and Connor made me stand in the hall watching for the janitor.

  But the janitor is this half-asleep zombie, so I wasn’t even worried. Until I heard the PLINK, PLINK, PLINK of emeralds dropping out of the vending machine behind me.

  I guess that old janitor is SO slow, Connor stole the key to the vending machine from him! And he didn’t even know.

  So THAT’s where Connor has been getting all his emeralds for the vending machine. He’s been getting them FROM the vending machine!

  As soon as he’d filled up his sack, we made a run for it. And let me tell you, I’ve never run so fast in all my life—not even when I took Sprinting as an extracurricular. We parted ways when we got outside. We didn’t even talk about it. I just wanted to get as far away from that creep as I could.

  Now I think I know what Dad meant when he said Sock was a “wolf in sheep’s clothing.” Connor may LOOK like a creeper, just like me and my old buddy Cash. But the dude is a total poser. It’s like he’s just wearing a creeper skin—like villager kids do on Halloween. Because inside? He’s more like Bones and his skeleton buddies. He’s a liar and a robber, and he’s NO friend of mine.

  Except that’s not going to really hold up down at the police station. “Not your friend?” the creeper cops are going to ask me. “That’s not what everyone at Mob Middle School says. That’s not what your JOURNAL says.” Yup, they’ll have it in my very own handwriting. I should probably just burn my journal now.

  So I’m sitting here in my bedroom sweating. And ITCHING. And panicking. I really don’t want my mug shot posted in the Creeper Chronicle. I REALLY don’t want to go to jail.

  But the law’s the law. The most I can hope for is visiting hours at the prison so Mom can bring me a roasted pork chop now and then . . .

  DAY 17: SATURDAY

  Mom made me go to school last night. I told her that since I was still grounded, I really didn’t DESERVE to go to school. I said I should probably just stay locked in my room all night until I learned my lesson. (Or until I got used to living in a four by four foot room, because that’s pretty much how I’m going to spend the rest of my life as a Convict Creeper.)

  But Mom wasn’t having it. So SOMEHOW, I crept my way back into that school—to the scene of the crime. But I had to walk around that place like I had eyes in the back of my head. Like EVERYONE was watching me. Like I might get apprehended by the school security cop at any moment.

  When Connor showed up, I couldn’t even look at him. And when he offered to buy me something from the vending machine, I was like, “SERIOUSLY?” The dude has no shame.

  In fact, he asked me if I wanted to go on ANOTHER adventure—something about planting fireworks in the Strategic Exploding field outside. I didn’t even hear him out. I just said “No.” Actually, I said “NO way. No how. Not happening. Leave me alone. I’m outta here.”

  But he FOLLOWED me. All the way to Language Arts class. I mean, he was going there anyway, but I could feel him creeping on my heels. Breathing down my neck. I started to sweat again.

  Eddy Enderman passed us in the hall, and I saw him glance my way. I almost shot him a plea for help with my eyeballs, but then I reached Mrs. Collins’s classroom and ducked inside there instead.

  “Dude, what is your problem?” Connor hissed.

  “YOU,” I said—too loud. “You’re my problem.”

  Well Mrs. Collins caught wind of that and took us both out into the hall. But when she asked what was going on, Connor plastered on his “I’m all innocent” look. And do you know what he said? He said that he’d been TRYING to make friends with me for the last two weeks, because you know—I’m the only other boy creeper in sixth grade. But he said that I don’t want to be friends with him. That I’ve been treating him like a silverfish stuck to the bottom of my shoe.

  WHAT? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  But Mrs. Collins believed it—every last word. “Gerald Creeper,” she said in THAT tone. You know the one. “I’m really disappointed in you. It’s hard to be the new creep at school. So I want to see you making more of an effort to be a friend to Connor, do you understand? Starting with class today. You two will be
partners during our creative writing lesson. Got it?”

  What I “got” was a sudden stomachache—as if Mad Mooshroom Disease was coming on all quick-like. I told Mrs. Collins that I should probably go to the nurse’s office. But she said I was faking it and that I could just sit right down next to my partner.

  REALLY? So she knows that I’M faking it, but she can’t see that Connor is a total poser? I think Mrs. Collins ought to get her glasses checked.

  As I shuffled back into the classroom, I caught Eddy Enderman’s eye again. He’d been watching the whole scene from his locker down the hall. And by the look on his face, I could tell that HE believed me. Sometimes I think Eddy Enderman is the only one at school who really knows what’s going on. I just wish he could DO something about it! Oh, well. Maybe he can bust me out of jail someday—teleport me right out of there, and I can live out the rest of my life hiding in the Nether.

  So now I’m supposed to be working with Connor on creative writing. But I’m writing in my journal instead. And he’s copying Chloe’s poem. And she’s LETTING him!

  Whatever. NOT my problem. I’m done with Connor Creeper.

  DAY 20: TUESDAY MORNING

  I may be done with Connor Creeper. But he’s not done with me. NOT AT ALL.