The Overworld Games Page 5

  If I have to choose between winning a gold medal OR escaping a zombie pigman, I’ll escape. I’ll run for the Extreme Hills.

  And you can call the CREEPER CHRONICLE to report a missing creeper, because I’m NEVER coming back.

  DAY 27: SUNDAY

  Remember when I said that Dad sometimes has genius ideas?

  Well, today WASN’T one of those times.

  He’s trying to help me with Pig Riding, which I really appreciate. I mean, the Oveworld Games are only FOUR days away! And Mr. Carl hasn’t been able to find us any other pigs to ride.

  But when I told Dad about that, he said he had a GREAT idea. He said. “How about if you ride Sock the Sheep?”

  I swear Sock understood every word, because that sheep bleated and headed toward the fence, as if he were going to make a break for it.

  I reminded Dad that we weren’t allowed in the backyard. And that we REALLY shouldn’t irritate Mom, because she might turn on us like a zombie pigman.

  But Dad pointed out that Mom was in the chicken coop, and that we wouldn’t have to go in the backyard at all. “We can bring Sock inside. Remember when Mom brought him in to sleep with you?” Dad said.

  How could I forget? Sock ended up climbing onto my bed and getting wool all over my sheets. I’ve been coughing up “wool balls” ever since.

  Anyway, before I could shut down Dad’s not-so-genius idea, he led Sock into the living room. So I stepped up on the couch, ready to climb onto Sock’s back. And Cammy started laughing as if this were the FUNNIEST thing ever.

  Or the DUMBEST.

  Yeah, let’s go with that. Because as soon as I threw one leg over Sock, that sheep bolted. It was like the pig riding thing all over again. Except I never even made it ON to the sheep!

  I hit the floor so hard, I had an epiphany. That’s like when you get struck by lightning, and for just a second, everything is crystal clear.

  You know what I saw during my crystal-clear wipeout?

  FAILURE.

  Me losing the Pig Riding event. And getting beaten by a bunch of fire-breathing ghasts in Firework Crafting. And all my friends at Mob Middle School turning on me. And Dad disowning me because I’m the FIRST Gerald Creeper in FIVE generations who didn’t bring home the gold.

  Yup, I saw all of that—right before Cammy exploded with laughter. And everything went black.

  DAY 28: MONDAY (MORNING)

  So I’m at school. In the boys’ bathroom. Shaking in my shoes. (And I’m not even wearing any.)

  Want to know why?

  Because now I’m not going to fail only TWO events during the Overworld Games on Wednesday. I’m going to fail THREE.

  Never in a billion years could I have seen it coming—that moment when Mr. Carl called my name over the loudspeaker and invited me to the office. Was I in trouble? Had someone found out I’d overstuffed my rockets with gunpowder?

  I didn’t know. But when I got to the office, there was Mr. Carl sitting with Eddy Enderman. HUH?

  Eddy was smiling at me, so I figured that was a good thing. But then Mr. Carl said there had been a PROBLEM with Sprinting class. I guess some of the other schools in the area found out that an Enderman was taking part in the event. And they thought that wasn’t very fair—you know, because of the teleporting thing. So Eddy had to quit the Sprinting team.

  Well, I know what that means for Mob Middle School—NO gold medal in Sprinting.

  But I didn’t know what it meant for ME.

  It meant an “opportunity,” said Mr. Carl. Because I had taken Sprinting before, so I knew how to do it. And because Eddy had personally chosen me to take his spot on the relay team.

  He chose ME??? But WHY???

  Everyone knows I hate Sprinting. And I have these short little legs. So there’s no WAY I can fill Eddy’s shoes on the Sprinting team.

  But I guess Eddy didn’t know that. Because as he left the office, he smiled at me again and slapped me on the back. “Good luck, dude,” he said.

  Hiding out in the boys’ bathroom all morning isn’t the COOLEST thing a creep can do. But can you really blame me? I’m supposed to be at Sprinting class. But pretty much all I want to do is hide out here in a stall.

  And RAP.

  That rap flowed right out of me like hot lava. And now that I’m staring at the words, I know EXACTLY what I have to do.

  DAY 28: MONDAY (NIGHT)

  I never made it to Sprinting class this morning. Instead, I walked straight home. And I practiced my words all the way there.

  “Dad, here’s the thing. I’m just not cut out for these Overworld Games. It’s WAY too much pressure, and I’ve really gotta focus on my rap career, and I know you’re counting on me to win gold, but it’s just not gonna happen, so I’d rather sit out those games and spare us both the mortification and pain.”

  Something like that.

  But when I got home, Dad was waiting in the garage. (Does the creep never work?) And he had a pouch full of something.

  “Gold nuggets,” he whispered. “So we can make more of those star-shaped explosions!”

  I opened my mouth to tell him the truth—that no amount of star-shaped explosions were going to help me win gold against fire-breathing ghasts.

  But then I saw a torn ribbon sticking out from the trashcan. I recognized that ribbon. It was from Dad’s gold medal! “What happened to your medal, Dad?” I asked.

  He shrugged and mumbled something about it breaking. “No big deal,” he said.

  But something clicked in my brain. Dad’s gold medal was gone, but he suddenly had a pouch full of gold NUGGETS. Dad had melted down his medal to make more fireworks. For ME!

  Oh, MAN. That changed EVERYTHING.

  How could I quit now??? How could I let Dad down when he’d just given up his most prized possession to help ME win a gold medal of my own?

  The answer came like a star-shaped explosion over my head.

  Nope, I can’t quit. I’m in this thing now. Even if it means total humiliation.

  I’ve gotta try. For Dad.

  I tried to go to sleep after that, but I couldn’t sleep a wink. So I went out walking in the backyard. I was hoping to find a few lucky mushrooms, since my old one hasn’t really been coming through for me lately. But all I found were feathers and chicken feed.

  That’s okay. Because here’s the truth:

  There aren’t enough lucky mushrooms in the whole OVERWORLD to make this thing turn out okay.

  DAY 30: WEDNESDAY

  I’m back in the bathroom stall. It’s peaceful in here, you know—the perfect place for me to start thinking about finding a new family.

  Maybe I’ll put an ad in the CREEPER CHRONICLE: “Disgraced creeper athlete searching for new home. Gold-medal-winning families need not apply.”

  The Games just ended, and I DID end up with a gold medal somehow. But it’s WAY too heavy to wear around my neck. And just thinking about how I earned it makes me want to hurl. SERIOUSLY.

  It was all because of the zombie pigmen. And Chloe.

  Things started out okay. I mean, I was hoping the Pig Riding would get canceled on account of not having any pigs to ride. But then Mom came through at the last minute with a whole herd flock BUNCH of them. I guess the farm where she got her chickens had a few pigs, too. Who knew? Lucky me.

  I didn’t even think I’d SEE Mom at the games, since her chicks are due to hatch today. But she said that supporting ME was more important.

  Any other day, that might have made a creep feel good. But today, it just made me jittery. (And kind of embarrassed, because I guess she didn’t have time to change out of her straw hat and overalls.) Then there was Dad, who was standing in the FIRST row of the bleachers with the BIGGEST megaphone you’ve ever seen. That’s one of those things you cheer into, and he’d already hollered my name a time or two. “Go, Gerald! Go get ‘em, son!” Any minute now, he was going to fall over the fence and end up in the Pig-Riding arena WITH me.

  Cammy was there, too, ready to explode wit
h excitement. And Cate? I saw a flash of pink and green race by—she was probably on her way to go cheer on the Nether Fire Breathers.

  I couldn’t blame her. MAN those Fire Breathers looked tough. I tried not to look at the zombie pigmen (because, you know, I didn’t want to annoy any of them), but it was hard not to notice the ghasts floating overhead. Those mobs really WERE breathing fire!

  Then it was time to mount my pig. (And those are 8 words I hope I’ll never have to write again.)

  There weren’t many other contestants in the ring—just a couple of miners from the Extreme Hills. (I guess the seventh grade skeleton quit our team because his mom was afraid he would break some bones.) So I THOUGHT I was the only mob representing the Mob Middle School Squids.

  But then Whisper Witch came trotting over on her pig! TROTTING. Like she’d been riding that pig her whole life.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were doing Pig Riding?” I asked her. I mean, if I’d KNOWN, I might have dropped out and spared myself all this misery.

  She spoke loud and clear when she said, “Why didn’t you ask?”

  HUH. Good point. That was when the whistle suddenly blew.

  My pig took off. I squeezed my legs.

  He squealed. I squealed too.

  I leaned left. He veered right.

  You pretty much get the picture.

  Let’s just say that I did NOT win the gold in Pig Riding. But Whisper Witch did.

  I tried to hold my head high as I crept toward the Firework Crafting platform. And I tried to ignore Dad’s cheering, which followed me all the way there. (“Go get ‘em, son! Show no mercy! Blow ‘em up! Take ‘em down!”)

  SHEESH. Dad really had to dial it down a notch.

  But my own heart was racing. Were the ghasts there already? I took a quick look around. Nope. The coast was clear.

  Then I did a double-take. Because do you know who was standing RIGHT NEXT to me on that firework-launching platform?

  CASH CREEPER. My old buddy Cash!

  He looked way different in his Creeper Academy Silverfish jersey. But let’s face it, I’d know that creep anywhere. He’s like my brother from another creeper mother.

  I almost ran over and hugged him. But then I remembered that today, Cash wasn’t my friend. He was my COMPETITION. And that made me feel as itchy as the cheap jersey scraping across my back.

  I was hoping the ghasts would show up so Cash and I could team up against them. But they never showed! Cate must have gotten it wrong. Maybe she hadn’t been listening to me AT ALL that day in the hall.

  So when it was time to set off fireworks, it was just me and Cash. I opened my first sack of rockets. Then I heard Dad screaming in his megaphone. “Go for the GOLD, Gerald! Go BIG or go HOME!”

  I reached for one of the biggest, fattest rockets and put it on my stand. Dad wanted me to start off the competition with a BANG, and I didn’t want to let the old man down.

  But when I dug into my sack for my flint and steel, guess what I found? My lucky mushroom. The one CASH gave me.

  I held it up to show him, and he broke into this big grin. And after that, it was like old times. I wasn’t at the Overworld Games anymore—I was just hanging out in the backyard, setting off fireworks with my buddy Cash Creeper.

  He set off a star-shaped rocket, so I set off one of mine. Then I set off a rocket that twinkled, and he set off a twinkler of his own. We were having a BLAST. It was just like old times! I mean, except for the crazy creeper father with the megaphone in the stands.

  Dad kept hollering at me to “Use the BIG ones, Gerald!!! Don’t hold back!!! Take that creep DOWN!!!” He really wanted me to stick it to Cash with the overstuffed rockets.

  But I COULDN’T!

  I couldn’t fire off those big fat rockets, because Dad and I had totally broken the rules—we’d filled them too full. I wouldn’t mind cheating against a fire-breathing ghast, but I sure wasn’t going to cheat against my old buddy Cash. I mean, we go way back, me and him. Like two whole years!

  So I didn’t cheat. And Cash and I ended up tying, which I didn’t even know was POSSIBLE. We both got silver medals. Then Cash waved and was gone, back to his team.

  I wasn’t ready to face Dad yet, so I crept straight to the Sprinting track. I figured I might as well get that event over with too. Then I could just pack my bags, run away from home, and never look back.

  Ziggy was already at the track, eating some gross energy snack. (SMACK, SMUCK, DROOL) A couple of skeletons wearing “West Tiaga Wolves” jerseys were warming up for the relay. And yup, the zombie pigmen were there, too. I couldn’t look. I was already sweating, and I hadn’t crept a step.

  Our team’s first two runners were a slime and a skeleton. Ziggy was running third, and he’d tag me for the last lap. So I just waited.

  I heard the whistle go off, and I waited.

  I saw one of the West Tiaga Wolves tear past me, and I waited.

  Then it came—Ziggy’s tap on my back. I took off running, but like I said, I’m NOT a sprinter. So when a zombie pigman came up on my right, I just let him go by. I think I might have even stopped for a second.

  Then I saw Chloe standing by the track up ahead. Was she there to cheer me on? THAT would be a first.

  Nope. She was there to make my life absolutely and TOTALLY miserable, like usual. Just as the zombie pigman passed her, she strategically exploded. And I’m here to tell you, if you ever want to annoy a bunch of zombie pigmen, just blow one of them up.

  That pigman didn’t know what hit him—or WHO. And instead of turning on my Evil Twin, he turned on ME!!!

  My short creeper legs started running so fast, I barely touched the ground. When I looked back and saw the whole HERD of pigmen chasing me, I FLEW—I’m not even kidding. When I crossed that finish line, I just kept running.

  Well the crowd started cheering, and next thing I knew, Mr. Carl was steering me toward the winner’s podium and they were putting this gold medal around my neck.

  But let’s get one thing straight: I was NOT sprinting for the gold. I was sprinting to save my creeper neck. And any mob who KNOWS me saw the sheer terror on my face. They might have even heard me squealing like a pig.

  So I wasn’t feeling a whole lot of pride on that winner’s podium. And as soon as I got my medal, I sprinted off that stand and back to this bathroom stall.

  Maybe when my heart stops pounding, I’ll come out. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll just float here for a while, like the spineless Mob Middle School Squid I am.

  DAY 31: THURSDAY

  Well, no mob can hang out in a bathroom for the rest of his life—even if he wants to.

  Mom found me there. (Yeah, I know. What was MOM doing in the boys’ bathroom???) She said that Mob Middle School had WON the Games. “Aren’t you happy about that?” she asked.

  I probably was, somewhere deep inside, but I sure wasn’t feeling it yet.

  Mom said she was really proud of me, but that now it was time to go home and hatch some eggs. So Chloe and I went home with her and Cammy. (I guess Dad was still at the Games trying to find Cate, who had wandered off somewhere with her zombie pigman.)

  I was glad that I didn’t have to talk to Dad. But I had PLENTY to say to Chloe—starting with why in the Overworld she blew up that zombie pigman.

  Get THIS: She said she did it to HELP me so that our school would win the Games. She said that I’m not competitive at ALL unless someone lights a fire under my butt. And that I’m actually a pretty fast sprinter if a cat—or a pigman—is chasing me. So she said that I had HER to thank for my medal.

  At first, I didn’t know if she was telling the truth or not. Maybe she was just trying to steal my glory so that SHE could be the twin who made Dad proud. (She’d earned her own gold medal in Strategic Explosions—big surprise there.)

  But the more I thought about it, the more I started to believe her. Because Chloe IS really competitive. She’d want our school to win the gold, for sure. So maybe she WAS trying to help me in her o
wn weird way.

  I finally just said, “Thanks.” So Chloe and I were all good. But me and Dad?

  I didn’t think that creeper would ever forgive me for not using our best rockets in the Games. And after he melted his OWN gold medal to help me out!

  When we got home, I crept off to my room. I heard Dad come home, but I pretended to be sleeping. My body WAS tired after all that competing. But my brain was wide awake.

  Dad must have known that, because he came right in and started talking. Do you know what he said? He said “I’m PROUD of you, son.”

  Say WHAT?

  I pointed to my gold medal. “For winning gold?” I said. “Dad, the truth is . . .”

  Well, Dad didn’t need to hear the truth about the gold medal. He said he was proud of me for winning the SILVER medal. He said Great-Great-Grandpa Gerald would be proud of me for that too—for being a good sport and not cheating to win.

  “But he wouldn’t be so proud of ME,” said Dad, hanging his creeper head. “I guess I got a little carried away with the gunpowder.”

  Well that was kind of funny—Dad was feeling just as guilty as I was!

  There was this awkward moment where I guess we were supposed to hug or something, but Mom came creeping in to tell us that some of her CHICKS had hatched.

  We all went out in the backyard—even me and Dad. I guess we weren’t banned from the yard anymore. And we went into the coop to look at those chicks.

  Two of them were white. Their feathers were wet, and they couldn’t really stand up. I gotta say, they were pretty cute. But that third chick had black and brown specks on its feathers.