by Greyson Mann
Anyway, I keep looking at the picture Zoe made of Santa. And I’m thinking, this Santa guy sure has a lot of work to do. Maybe TOO much work, because he’s kind of blowing it. The dude needs some help.
So now I’m wondering . . . Is there a way for ME to help him out? And to earn more emeralds at the same time? And to make Santa WIKE Zoe and maybe visit her once in a while?
I guess I need to add one more thing to my 30-day plan. I swear, that list is getting longer instead of shorter. But this one’s important.
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Help out Santa. (And the baby zombie.)
DAY 11: MONDAY
Man, this creeper can’t catch a break.
Last night, Sam and I were sledding. Yeah, I know, I should be mad at him for turning me into a Talking Tree. But Sam’s kind of got me in a trap, because he still has my sled. And there’s still snow on the ground. So . . .
I met him at the hill and pretended like everything was cool. But it STOPPED being cool when Chloe showed up.
Let me back up for a sec. You know how Mom has been all about family time lately? Well, she keeps coming up with these new family traditions. And I think she’s getting ideas from all the wrong people.
At dinner, she decided that our “tradition of the day” would be to get a Christmas tree. SERIOUSLY??? It’s like all the Christmas trees of the Overworld have turned against me and decided to make my life miserable.
I still have lines on my face from the twinkly lights wrapped around my head the other night, so the LAST thing I want to see in our living room is one of those dead trees. I’d almost rather see a CACTUS there. (Wait, scratch that. I didn’t really mean it.)
Anyway, when Mom invited us all to go get a tree together, I told her I couldn’t. “I have important holiday business to take care of,” I fibbed.
Mom actually smiled at that. Maybe she thought I was going shopping for gifts for the family. And that counted as “family time,” so she let me off the hook. (I’ll have to remember that excuse for later. It’s a keeper.)
But I’d only taken one turn on the sled before Chloe showed up. Mom, Cate, and Cammy were right behind her, lugging a really big spruce tree across the snow. Dad was nowhere in sight, so I figured he must have sneaked off for some “business” of his own. Have I mentioned Dad is a master sneaker-offer?
Anyway, when Chloe saw me standing by the sled, she shouted, “Hey, whose sled is that?”
Sam was just getting onto the sled. He was about to tell her EXACTLY who owned the sled. “Ger—“ he started to say.
That was when I gave the sled a little nudge with my foot, just to help him along. As he took off down the hill with a surprised look on his jiggly green face, I finished his word for him. “Ger . . . onimo!”
Then I turned to Chloe and said, “It’s Sam’s sled. Obviously.”
But she narrowed her eyes. She KNEW. And when I got home this morning, she busted me.
“You didn’t return the s-s-sled to the s-s-store,” she hissed. “Your s-s-slimy friend S-S-Sam is HIDING it for you. And I’m going to tell Mom.” Then she cocked her creeper head. “Unlessss . . .”
She was working up to another bribe, I could tell. So I told her right away I didn’t have any more emeralds. That wasn’t totally true. But I wasn’t about to give the emeralds I’d earned as a Talking Tree to my Evil Twin. No way, no how.
“Unless . . .” she said again, “you and Sam give me a ride to school every night. On that sled.”
I blew out my breath and stared at her. Was she bluffing? Usually, Chloe didn’t want anything to do with me at school. She didn’t even want other mobs to know we were related. So maybe this was just a threat and she wouldn’t follow through.
“Whatever,” I grumbled. I pretended to give in so that she would just GO AWAY. And she did.
I don’t know yet if I’m going to have to drag my sister to school on that sled, but I do know this: the one thing I thought I’d checked off my 30-Day Plan is now back on.
“One step forward, two steps back,” Dad likes to say. I never knew what he meant by that. But this morning, I know EXACTLY what he means.
DAY 12: TUESDAY
Sometimes a night starts out one way and ends up a whole different way.
Last night started out TERRIBLE. Yeah, it really stunk. Chloe decided she did want that ride to school, so Sam showed up with the sled after dinner.
But Chloe was HEAVY. Especially when we were pulling her uphill. Was that girl hiding blocks of obsidian in her shoes or what?
I made Sam help me pull. I figured since we were sharing ownership of the sled, we should share the work too. (I mean, it’s only fair.)
But Chloe treated us like a couple of horses. “Faster!” she kept saying.
Then Bones and his gang showed up, like they always do at the WORST possible times. Bones pulled a carrot out of his backpack and stuck it in front of our noses. I didn’t know what was up with that—until he started SNORTING.
“Oink, oink, little piggies,” he said, as if we were a couple of those pigs you can tame with a carrot on a fishing rod. GREAT.
Well, that pretty much did it. Bones’s bony buddies started OINKing and SNORTing too. Which meant that every kid we passed stopped and stared. Every. Single. One.
So you know, if you ever want to REALLY draw attention to yourself, I can give you a few pointers.
But it all ended the second that Bones and his buddies turned on Chloe.
See, my Evil Twin can dish out the insults, but she sure can’t take them. All Bones had to do was call her a Zombie Pig Girl.
Well, I’ve been called WAY worse than that. But Chloe’s green skin must be really thin. She blew sky high before Bones was even done laughing. It was like, “Bah, ha, ha—”
BOOM!!!
Luckily, Chloe had rolled off the sled by then. And the girl DOES know how to make a dramatic exit. Bones and his buddies got blown back a few feet, and Sam and I made our getaway in a cloud of gunpowder.
I thought we’d have to go through the whole thing again on the way HOME from school, but like I said, sometimes nights have a way of turning around.
See, for starters, Chloe had to go to Strategic Explosions class after school, so we didn’t have to worry about dragging her highness, the Zombie Pig Princess, back home.
The sled felt a THOUSAND tons lighter without her, even with our backpacks piled onto it. And we were making pretty good time back to Sam’s house.
Then Willow showed up and cracked some dumb joke, like, “Hey, if it isn’t Santa and his sleigh!” Sam laughed his slimy green head off at that, acting like it was WAY funnier than it was. (Sometimes I swear Willow is using a love potion on him or something.)
But her dumb little joke reminded me of something. It reminded me of Zoe’s puny green face, asking why Santa never came to see her.
So I told Sam and Willow what I’d been thinking. I told them about how there were all these little mobs who didn’t get a visit from Santa on Christmas. And how unfair that was. And how maybe we could HELP Santa do a better job—and hey, maybe even make a few emeralds doing it!
“You could wear my Santa suit,” Sam offered. Which I guess meant he was done being Santa, and I was on my own this time.
Well, I’ve SEEN his Santa suit, and you could fit about twelve of me in it.
So I told him that my sister Cate, the Fashion Queen, could probably whip up some kind of Santa suit for me from all the things in her messy closet.
“But do you think parents would PAY to have Santa visit their kids on Christmas?” I asked Sam and Willow. I really wanted to know if my plan could work.
Sam nodded his wiggly head up and down so hard, he almost fell over. “I’d pay emeralds for Santa to come visit my little brothers,” he said.
“Really?” I asked. “Would you pay EIGHTEEN emeralds? Six for each brother?” I don’t know where that number even came from. I guess numbers and business stuff just come easy for me. Kind of like rap songs.
&nbs
p; Sam said he didn’t know—that he’d sure have to do a lot of babysitting to earn that many emeralds. But he said he’d try.
Willow said she knew a witch with FIVE little sisters, and that she would ask her about a Santa visit. “But no promises,” she said.
By then, we’d caught up to Ziggy Zombie. (Zombies aren’t exactly known for their speed.) And when we told him the plan, he said he was pretty sure he could come up with six emeralds for me to come visit Zoe.
WOO-HOO!
My head was spinning with emeralds all night long. I couldn’t concentrate in class, and I could barely eat at lunchtime.
(And it wasn’t just because Ziggy’s rotten-flesh fajitas stunk up the whole lunchroom.)
At this rate, I figured I’d have enough emeralds to buy gifts for my family. Enough emeralds to keep Chloe quiet for FOREVER about the sled. (Or, at least, until after Creeper’s Eve.) Oh, and even enough emeralds to buy fireworks for ME for the new year.
So like I said, the night started off pretty rough. But Mom says when life hands you mushrooms, you should make mushroom stew.
And let me tell you, I can smell that stew already.
DAY 13: WEDNESDAY
Here’s why I think Santa works alone: because Santa’s helpers have ROTTEN ideas.
When I walked home from school with my friends this morning, I was talking about what kinds of things to put in the little mobs’ socks on Christmas. Ziggy reminded me they were called STOCKINGS. Whatever—that’s not the important part.
What’s important is what I’m going to stuff inside the stinky socks. And it can’t be something that costs emeralds, because I’m trying to EARN those, not spend a bunch of them. That’s just not good business.
So I asked my friends what they thought about gunpowder. I mean, we have a whole trash can full of it in the garage from all of Cammy’s explosions. So it wouldn’t cost me any emeralds. And, hey, the little mobs could make fireworks with it!
I was sure at least one of my friends would cheer or tell me how great my idea was. But even Sam stayed quiet. Maybe it was because I was making him pull the sled home, and he was still tired from pulling Chloe to school.
Instead of backing up my idea, Willow had to point out that fireworks aren’t SAFE for little mobs.
Who blew up and made her the teacher around here?
Anyway, she said she had a better idea. Wanna know what it was? (Trust me, you really don’t.)
Willow’s great idea was SPIDER EYES. Sometimes I wonder if that girl is high on her own potions or something.
I tried to tell her that no kid wants to reach into a stocking and pull out a slimy spider eye.
Ziggy backed me up on that one, which I thought was pretty decent of him. But then he suggested I put rotten FLESH in the stockings. So I don’t know where he gets off shooting down spider eyes.
I was hoping Sam would save the day and vote for gunpowder. Instead, he suggested slimeballs. So now you see what I mean about Santa’s helpers. Who needs ‘em?
When we couldn’t agree on stocking stuffers, Ziggy asked why I didn’t just do what the real Santa does and put apples in the stockings.
I reminded him that I don’t have an apple tree in my backyard. And if I did, it would be frozen solid right now. And a bag of apples costs like five emeralds or something at the store. So there.
Then Willow said, “Doesn’t your mom buy apples?”
I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes. Sometimes I think my friends don’t know me at all.
“Creepers aren’t big on fruits and vegetables,” I told her.
Then I remembered that wasn’t TOTALLY true. Mom was on this “going green” kick for a while when all she served for breakfast and dinner was green vegetables. I really don’t like to think about that time, because I had a pretty bad experience with brussels sprouts.
Also, Mom does make apple crisp sometimes. But she burns it to an extra crispy crisp so we don’t have to taste the apples. (And I really appreciate that about her cooking.)
So that got me to thinking. If I could convince Mom that apples were GOOD for us, like those brussels sprouts, maybe she would buy them more often. And then I could sneak off with a couple every day until I had enough for Christmas.
GENIUS!
Like I said, who needs helpers? I’m a Santa with a plan.
DAY 15: FRIDAY
I blew up two houses with one explosion last night. (Not really. It’s just an expression.)
See, I managed to talk my mom into buying apples AND talk my sister into making me a Santa suit. All in one conversation.
I started out by telling Mom how much I loved dinner. That part was true, because she’d made pork chops and roasted potatoes—my FAVORITE. I might have gone kind of overboard, because my Evil Twin pretended to be throwing up behind Mom’s back. But I ignored her and kept talking.
I told Mom how the only thing that would make dinner even BETTER would be one of her famous burnt apple crisps. And then I told her all kinds of interesting facts about apples that I’d researched at school on Thursday night:
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Apples used to be really rare in the Overworld. You could only find them in dungeon chests. So we should be GRATEFUL to be able to buy them in the supermarket. And we should show our gratitude by buying MORE.
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Villagers like to trade for apples—sometimes even for emeralds! So having apples is ALMOST like having emeralds. It’s like a savings account.
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Right after you eat an apple, you can walk through fire. Willow told me that one. It’s true—honest! But only if the apple is golden. And enchanted. Mom doesn’t have to know ALL those details, though.
Mom was nodding and smiling and going right along with my plan. Then she launched a surprise attack. She said, “Maybe we should eat fewer pork chops and potatoes around here and eat more apples!”
UH-OH. Leave it to Mom to take things WAY too far.
I had to squash that idea like a silverfish—FAST.
I started babbling something about how apples taste best when they come AFTER pork chops. I said that pork chops and apples go together like chickens and eggs. Mooshrooms and milk. Rotten flesh and—
WHAT? Where did THAT come from? I blame Ziggy Zombie for putting those two words in my head and almost ruining my plan.
Dad must have seen me struggling, because he cleared his throat and said the perfect thing. He said that maybe we should ALL make apple crisp together, as a family. Mom could teach us!
Well, I could have kissed Gerald Creeper Senior—if creeper sons did that kind of thing, I mean. I guess Dad has more experience with Mom and knows how to put the kibosh on her big ideas (at least the ones that have to do with pork chops). He saved MY creeper butt, that’s for sure.
Mom ate Dad’s idea right up. She said she’d buy a bag of apples at the store right away. TWO bags of apples. Maybe even three!
So that meant I could check “apples” off my list and move on to the NEXT part of my plan.
I mentioned kind of cool and casual-like that apple-red was my new favorite color.
That’s not true AT ALL. Everybody knows my favorite color is green. And my Evil Twin was the first one to call me out on it—which was exactly what I wanted her to do.
She said, “You don’t like red. Show me one red thing in your room.”
Then I said, “Actually, I was thinking about wearing more red. In fact, I think it’d be cool to wear a whole SUIT out of red, like that Santa guy the villager kids talk about. If only I knew someone who had a bunch of extra wigs and skins . . .”
See what I did there?
Well, Cate just about fell out of her chair offering to help.
She said she’d check her closet for me right now, before school. In fact, she invited me to go WITH her to her closet.
I had to think about that for a second. Cate’s closet is kind of like the Nether. You can get into it, but you probably won’t find your way out. A creeper could get lost and s
tarve to death in there, for sure.
So I almost said I’d wait in the kitchen and let Cate go on ahead. But Mom was close to exploding with happiness, seeing me bond with one of my sisters. So I decided to take one for the team and go with Cate.
Boy, was I glad I did. I went in looking like plain old Gerald Creeper Jr., and I came out looking like a jolly green Santa. All it took was:
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A long red velvet bathrobe. (Do NOT tell anyone I’m wearing a girl’s robe.)
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A red purse that we turned upside down to make a hat. (I prefer to call it a “pouch,” not a purse. But whatever.)
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Fluffy white stuff from one of Cate’s wigs. She cut strips of it and glued them around my hat and my Santa suit.
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A black belt with a shiny buckle. (It’s kind of tight, but I’m sure it’ll fit better after I’ve digested my pork chops.)
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Black boots. The heels are kind of high, but by the time we got down to the boots, I was ready to be done with the whole closet dress-up thing.
When Cate said she still had to put white makeup on my face, I made a run for it—which was NOT easy in those high-heeled boots.
But now the Santa suit is safely hidden under my bed, where the sled used to be. And I’m going to borrow Cate’s glue to put my piggy bank back together, because pretty soon, it’s going to be chock FULL of emeralds.
DAY 16: SATURDAY
So last night, I walked to school with Sam. Pulling my sled. With my Evil Twin stretched out on it. She had a super-smug smile on her face that I wanted to wipe off with a snowball.