by Greyson Mann
Also by Greyson Mann
The Creeper Diaries
Mob School Survivor
Creeper’s Got Talent
Creepin’ Through the Snow
Secrets of an Overworld Survivor
Lost in the Jungle
When Lava Strikes
Wolves vs. Zombies
Never Say Nether
The Witch’s Warning
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Copyright © 2017 by Hollan Publishing, Inc.
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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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: 978-1-5107-3112-7
E-book ISBN: 978-1-5107-3113-4
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
DAY 1: THURSDAY
DAY 2: FRIDAY
DAY 3: SATURDAY MORNING
DAY 3: SATURDAY NIGHT
DAY 6: TUESDAY
DAY 7: WEDNESDAY
DAY 9: FRIDAY
DAY 11: SUNDAY
DAY 13: TUESDAY
DAY 14: WEDNESDAY
DAY 15: THURSDAY
DAY 16: FRIDAY
DAY 17: SATURDAY
DAY 20: TUESDAY MORNING
DAY 21: WEDNESDAY MORNING
DAY 22: THURSDAY MORNING
DAY 24: SATURDAY
DAY 27: TUESDAY
DAY 29: THURSDAY
DAY 30: FRIDAY
DAY 1: THURSDAY
So last night was pretty much the best school night EVER.
See, we got this new creep at school. And by “creep,” I do mean creeper. As in, another creeper like me. At Mob Middle School. In sixth grade. FINALLY. Let me tell you, I’ve been waiting for this moment for like my whole life—or at LEAST all semester.
I haven’t had a creeper to hang out with since my friend Cash moved away. We both loved making up rap songs and setting off fireworks.
Since then, the only friends I’ve had are a bouncy slime and a flesh-eating zombie. And Ziggy Zombie is pretty far down my “Top Two Friends” checklist, believe me.
Sam is alright, but he’s no Cash Creeper. I mean, Sam would NEVER fling a mushroom at a cat. He’s got this black and white cat named Moo, and he’s always going on and on about her. He got this Cat Cam for his birthday, and now he takes videos of Moo. Which means that I have to WATCH the videos. Over and over again. Even though I’ve made it perfectly clear that I don’t like cats.
If I see ONE more video of Moo falling off the bookshelf or squeezing into a flowerpot or batting at her carrot on a stick, I’m going to barf all over Sam’s Cat Cam.
He’s always like, “No, wait! You have to see this next one!” And pretty soon I’m watching Sam and Moo share mushroom stew. One spoonful for her (lick, lick, lick), and one spoonful for him. GROSS. Sometimes I think there’s something seriously wrong with that slime.
So when Connor Creeper walked into my first period Language Arts class, I about fell out of my chair. I knew he was cool from the moment I laid eyes on the dude. So did Mrs. Collins, our teacher. She probably agrees that we could use a few more creepers around here.
After she introduced him to the class, she asked him to take a seat between me and Chloe, my Evil Twin. “Chloe can tell you about some of the extracurriculars we offer here at Mob Middle School,” she said. “Blah, blah, blah.”
Chloe sat straight up—she seemed pretty excited about that. See, she’s all about Strategic Exploding class after school, because she’s always looking for another reason to blow up. But me? Not so much. I use my brains instead of my blasts. And the last thing Connor Creeper needs is to fall in with my twin and the other Strategic Exploders that run around this school with their fuses half-lit.
Turns out, I didn’t have to worry about it. Connor said, “Thank you, Mrs. Collins, but I prefer to focus on my studies after school.” He flashed her one of those polite smiles that teachers eat right up. And I saw Chloe kind of wilt in her desk. So maybe Connor is more of a brains guy like me.
As he was walking toward the empty seat, I saw Bones gearing up to give him grief. Bones and his skeleton buddies have made my life miserable from day one here at Mob Middle School. So I guess Bones thought he was going to do it all over again with Connor.
I tried to catch Connor’s eye to warn him. But I was too late. Right when he walked by that skeleton, Bones started mocking him. “I PREFER to focus on my studies after school, Mrs. Collins,” he said in a high, whiny whisper. But Bones dropped his pencil while he was doing it. And I watched Connor step RIGHT on that pencil and break it. On purpose. He kind of smiled while he was doing it, too.
So I don’t think I have to teach Connor much about Mob Middle School after all. He’s already got all the important stuff down.
And I haven’t even told you what happened at lunch when I ran into Connor. Well, I didn’t really RUN into him. I was sort of stalking him. When I saw him heading toward the vending machine, I walked right by whistling. It didn’t work the first time, so I walked by again.
Well that worked great, because he looked up and offered me a pork chop. He plunked an emerald into the vending machine, and when the chop popped out, he tossed it to me—just like that. I told him I’d pay him back, but he said not to worry about it. And when Sam bounced over to say hello, Connor bought HIM a pork chop, too. It was like the dude had this endless supply of emeralds or something.
When we all sat down to eat, I was pretty pumped up to have Connor sitting at our table. Everyone stared at us, kind of like when my buddy Eddy Enderman teleports over to say hello. It doesn’t happen very often, but we’re SORT of friends. And whenever he talks to me, everyone stares.
So, yeah, everyone was staring at Connor. I was too. Because . . . did I mention he’s a creeper?
Then Ziggy Zombie staggered over and just about wrecked the moment. He sat down with a groan and unwrapped his rotten-flesh sandwich. He was so into that stinky sandwich that he didn’t even notice Connor was sitting with us. And when Ziggy started eating, Connor said everything I have ALWAYS wanted to say to Ziggy. Every. Single. Word.
He was like, “Dude, can you close your mouth when you eat?” and “Wow, that is one SMELLY sandwich” and “Are you about DONE now?”
Ziggy didn’t take the hint.
Bu
t he finally noticed Connor. He did a double-take, looking from me to Connor and back again like he thought Connor was my twin or something. Well, THAT was kind of cool. I’d gladly trade Chloe for this guy.
So pretty soon, I was making a plan in my head. A plan for how to turn my SOON-to-be new best friend into my REAL new best friend. And I couldn’t wait to get home in the morning after school to write it all down.
See, I’m kind of a goal guy. I like to make a plan and write it down in my journal. If I don’t, I’m afraid I’m going to wake up one day and be old and depressed, wondering where my life went. Like my teenage sister, Cate. But that’s another story.
I think I got the planning thing from my mom. She’s always on some kick, like her “30 Days to a Greener You“ diet. Or the month she spent getting into shape with her Zombie Zumba DVDs.
I kind of miss those days, because her latest kick is really getting me down—and making me itch. Mom’s sister Constance, who lives up in the hills, sent her this book called Knit Your Way to Happiness. And ever since then, she’s been tangled up in a ginormous ball of yarn.
I can hear the knitting needles clacking in there, and every once in a while, her head pops out and she tosses me or my sisters a pair of mismatched socks. Or a stocking cap with a big pom-pom on the end. Or one of those “infinity scarves” that never ends. Or, WORST of all, an itchy sweater.
This morning when I got home from school, she met me at the door with a blanket. When I saw Dad sitting on the sofa in an ugly, lumpy sweater, I thought I’d gotten off easy. “Thanks, Mom!” I said. “I’ll go put it on my bed right now.”
But it turned out it WASN’T a blanket. Mom showed me the hole in the middle and said I was supposed to stick my head through it. And actually WEAR it.
“It’s a poncho!” she said, all proud-like.
A WHAT now?
I couldn’t believe Mom would actually make me something like that ON PURPOSE. It looked more like my sister Cammy, the Exploding Baby, had blown a hole through a blanket, and Mom was just making the best of it.
Either way, I wasn’t wearing that thing. EVER. I mean, except for when Mom made me put it on so she could take a picture to send to Constance.
Then I pulled it back off right away and escaped to my room, where I itched my skin raw. I mean, I have itchy skin anyway. Mom KNOWS this! But, whatever. Let her knit her way to happiness. I have my own kind of plan, and it has SQUAT to do with ponchos.
I figure I have 30 days to buddy up to Connor. If I don’t do it right away, some other mob is going to rattle, stagger, or slime their way in, and then he’ll be like, “Gerald? Gerald who?” That’s how things work in sixth grade, I’m telling you. I gotta act fast.
So here’s my plan:
I’ll get going on that first part right away. Showing Connor how awesome I am WILL be easy. Because I have a super-secret skill that most creepers don’t have.
I can RAP.
I write lyrics all the time in my head. Like right now, I’m writing some about Bones. I don’t even have to try. All I have to do is write them down so I can practice before school tonight and show Connor my skills. It goes like this:
Yup. With Connor Creeper on my side, Bones’s days as Mob Middle School’s number-one bully are numbered. Creepers are rising up. Skeletons are going down.
DAY 2: FRIDAY
So I’m not going to panic yet, but I MIGHT have to rethink my plan. Turns out, Connor doesn’t like rap. HUH. Who knew?
Last night at school, I had it all worked out. I walked by his locker doing my thing.
Listen up, Bones,
Sitting on your throne,
You’re going down
With a grunt and groan.
I had to whisper when some of Bones’s skeleton buddies rattled on by. But as soon as they were gone, I picked it right up again.
I even pretended to get a drink of water at the fountain by Connor’s locker, just so he could hear the second verse. And he heard me alright. He was like, “What’s up with the rap, creep?”
I THOUGHT it was my big moment. I shrugged all cool-like and told him I was going to be a famous rapper someday, like Kid Z. But you know what he said?
Say WHAT??? It was like my Evil Twin had just strategically exploded, knocking me off my feet. But you know what came out of my mouth next? I told Connor that I wasn’t really into Kid Z either. I actually SAID that—even though Kid Z is my idol. Even though I have posters of him all over my bedroom walls. Even though if I could meet only ONE famous person in the WHOLE Overworld, it’d be him.
So what was I SAYING???
Sam bounced over right about then and asked the question out loud.
Well, I mean I wouldn’t use the word LOVE. No, I’d probably go with something like “I LOOK UP to Kid Z.” But standing there staring at Connor Creeper, I couldn’t come up with any words at all. I felt like someone had stolen them all right out of my mouth.
So instead, I turned on Sam. I’m not proud of it, but I mean, he DID almost blow my big chance with Connor.
I said, “No I don’t, Sam. You’re the one who LOVES Kid Z. Like you LOVE Willow Witch. And you LOVE your cat Moo.” And I started making smoochy noises.
Connor laughed at that. And bought me a pork chop from the vending machine. So everything turned out okay.
I mean, Sam wasn’t thrilled with me, I could tell. But he’ll bounce back—he always does. And then I’ll coach him on how to hang with the creepers.
So now I’m sitting in my room staring at my blank walls, where my posters of Kid Z used to be. I HAD to take them down. I mean, Connor didn’t really give me a choice. But if I can’t impress him with my serious rap skills, I’m going to have to think of something else.
Like . . . DRAWING. My old buddy Cash Creeper loved to draw as much as I do. If I can whip up some masterpiece before school tonight, maybe Connor will be begging for an autographed copy that he can frame for his own bedroom walls—or at least be a little impressed.
Yup, that’s the ticket. My pencil is itching to draw already . . .
DAY 3: SATURDAY MORNING
Wow. So that creeper is NOT easily impressed.
I worked all day on a bunch of drawings. I barely got any sleep at all.
And when I showed up at school last night, I pulled out my journal and pretended like I was finishing up one of the drawings right there in Language Arts—before the bell rang.
Connor came in. And do you know what he said? He said really loud-like, “What’s THAT? Your coloring book?”
Chloe snickered from the desk on the other side of him, which I really didn’t appreciate. Then she started telling Connor all about Strategic Exploding class, babbling on and on like it was the most interesting thing in the world. And me? I put my journal away before Connor thought I really WAS some little kid who was into coloring.
But I mean, if he wasn’t into rap and he wasn’t into drawing, what WAS he into? Did we have ANYTHING in common?
It didn’t hit me until lunchtime, when Sam started showing me another one of his Cat Cam videos.
I watched it because, you know, I hadn’t been all that nice to Sam on Thursday night. And there was Moo batting at her newest toy, a stuffed creeper hanging off fishing rod. RUDE. Couldn’t Sam have gotten her a zombie toy? Or a skeleton toy? Nope. She was chasing a little green creeper, whacking at it like she wanted it for lunch.
When she finally caught it and dragged it off camera, Ziggy laughed so hard, a chunk of rotten flesh fell out of his mouth. It hit the table in front of me with a SPLAT.
GROSS.
Then Connor sat down and asked us what we were watching. And Sam could hardly wait to show him.
Well Connor took one look at that screen, and he flipped over backward in his chair. Seriously. He landed FLAT on his back. I thought he was going to blow sky high!
See, it turns out that Connor and I DO have something in common. We both hate cats. In fact, he might hate them even more than me. He told Sam to shut that
video off and never play it again. EVER.
And even though Sam looked like a squished slime ball, I had to kind of back up Connor on this one. If you’re gonna hang out with creepers, you can’t be showing cat videos all the time. It’s just not cool.
By the time I got home this morning, I was feeling a whole lot better about my 30-Day Plan. Connor wasn’t into rap or drawing, but he’d probably be ALL OVER flinging mushrooms at Sir Coughs-a-Lot. It was a start anyway.
When another rap popped into my head, I decided to write it down, even if Connor didn’t want to hear it.
Moo, Moo, Moo, Mitty, Moo, Moo, Moo,
Sam likes cats and witches, too.
Shares a kiss and mushroom stew with
Moo, Moo, Moo, Mitty, Moo, Moo, Moo.
DAY 3: SATURDAY NIGHT
Sam invited me to a sleepover tonight, but I had to say no. See, I’m trying to make some progress on my plan. How can I stick close to Connor if I don’t know where he lives or what he does on the weekends?
So I invited Sam to the Creeper Café in town instead. I figured it was as good a place as any to run into Connor. Plus, I’m trying to coach Sam in how to play it cool around creepers. At the Creeper Café, he can watch other creepers in action. It’s like a big science experiment.
We sat in a booth at the café and tried to keep a low profile. And I ordered us two super-deluxe hot chocolates with whipped cream and sprinkles—my favorite.
But I forgot two VERY important things:
1. Sam probably shouldn’t have caffeine. It gives him the jitters, and a jittery, wiggly slime is a totally out of control slime. I could practically FEEL the booth shaking.
2. Sam is lactose intolerant. I KNOW he shouldn’t drink milk. Like EVER. But I forgot whipped cream has milk in it. So . . . well, we had to clear out of there fast.