The Misadventures of Max Crumbly 3

by Rachel Renée Russell

  I was face-to-face with the UGLIEST CREATURE I’d ever seen in my entire life!

  It looked like a half-zombie, half-alien MONSTER from my worst nightmare! It had slimy, oatmeal-colored skin and huge, spongy rolls of pink flesh protruding out of its head!! . . .

  I SCREAMED! It SCREAMED! Then we BOTH SCREAMED in absolute TERROR!!! . . .

  ME, FREAKING OUT AT THE HIDEOUS CREATURE LURKING IN THE FAMILY ROOM!!

  We just stared at each other and screamed hysterically until I noticed that the monster was holding my sister Megan’s hot-pink glitter cell phone.

  This meant one of two things.

  The monster had EATEN my sister, had STOLEN HER PHONE, and was WEARING HER ROBE!

  (What WEIRDO would STEAL someone’s phone and WEAR their clothes?! Well, other than . . . ME!)

  OR the monster WAS my SISTER!

  Apparently, Megan was doing another one of her trendy BEAUTY treatments that ironically made her face look BABOON-BUTT UGLY!

  What could I say?! MY BAD!!

  I know my OWN sister shouldn’t have freaked me out like that! But can you blame me? She looked absolutely BANANAS!! That oatmeal face mask was beyond GROSS!

  It looked like she’d thrown up her breakfast cereal and then decided to smear it on her face. EWW!!

  Megan got all up in my face like bad breath.

  “Shut up, you birdbrain!” she hissed. “What are you trying to do, wake up Mom and Dad so they’ll come down here and ground us and take away our phones?! And WHO are YOU supposed to be? That chick from the FROZEN movie?!”

  Then she flopped back on the couch, stared at her phone, and started texting madly like I wasn’t even there.

  I just rolled my eyes. Then I hoisted myself up through the window and tumbled onto the floor. I closed the window and glared at my sister.

  “Well, Sleeping Beauty, isn’t it a little past your bedtime?! And, from the looks of it, you could use some beauty sleep. Like, thirty years’ worth! Because right now you look like a giant-sized, super-UGLY oatmeal cookie!”

  Megan suddenly stopped texting.

  She sniffed in my direction and wrinkled her nose.

  “OMG, Max!” she muttered. “You smell worse than usual. What did you do, roll around in a pile of rotting garbage?”

  Okay, THAT was the last straw! I had just SAVED South Ridge Middle School! I was a HERO! I should be getting a MEDAL for my courage! NOT lame INSULTS from my sister!!

  “Maybe I SHOULD wake Mom and Dad,” I shot back. “You’re violating their cell phone rule!”

  Megan smirked. “I’m not allowed to be on my phone with friends late at NIGHT. They never said anything about the wee hours of the MORNING!”

  WHATEVER!!

  I just hoped Megan stayed on her stupid phone until that thick CRUD on her face dried and hardened like CEMENT. Then she wouldn’t be able to OPEN that BIG, FAT MOUTH of hers anymore!

  I trudged up the stairs to my bedroom, suddenly exhausted.

  It had been the longest DAY of my PATHETIC little life. I was DYING to just crawl into my bed fully clothed.

  But Megan was right. Unless I wanted my bedroom (and possibly the entire upstairs) to smell like a Dumpster, I needed to do SOMETHING about that RANK STANK!

  I carefully pulled my dad’s comic book out of my boot. I needed to return it to his collection ASAP since he didn’t know I had borrowed it.

  But first I peeled off my dirty clothes and left them in a big smelly pile on the floor. Only a long, hot bath could soak through the layers of filth and stench on my skin.

  And since Megan was GRIPING about my really bad smell, I was SURE she wouldn’t mind me stealing borrowing her zesty Sunshine Citrus Beach bath and body gift basket that she’d gotten for her birthday. Soon I was feeling clean, happy, and relaxed. . . .

  ME, CHILLAXING IN THE TUB!!

  I was actually inspired to write a rap! . . .

  WASH IT OFF!

  (A RAP WRITTEN BY COOL MAX C.)

  Sometimes you reach

  the end of your rope.

  Everything’s wrong.

  You’re losing hope.

  You’re covered in slime

  and mystery meat.

  You want to give up.

  Admit defeat.

  You’re unappreciated,

  filthy, and tired.

  And all you got are

  the bruises you’ve acquired.

  Just hop in the tub.

  Wash away life’s crud!

  Just wash it off!

  WASH IT OFF!

  Sometimes you fail.

  You flunk a big test.

  You don’t make the team

  although you tried your best.

  Kids in the hall

  are laughing at you.

  Because toilet paper

  is stuck on your shoe.

  Wash away bad vibes.

  Don’t own ’em any longer.

  You’ll be nice and clean

  and A LOT stronger!

  Jump in the shower.

  You’ve got the power

  to wash it off!

  JUST WASH IT OFF!

  I had no friends.

  My life was sad.

  That bully was brutal.

  The haters were bad.

  I was stuck in the muck

  inside a filthy DUMPSTER!

  Facing my fear that was

  as scary as a MONSTER!

  I didn’t give up.

  I fought the fight.

  I hung in there.

  My future is bright!

  So when life is crappy,

  just smile and be happy.

  You can wash it off.

  JUST WASH IT OFF!

  I don’t mean to brag, but I know I’ve got serious SKILLZ!!

  My rap summed up exactly how I felt about my life.

  I was relieved this NIGHTMARE was finally over and tomorrow everything was going to be back to normal.

  I actually kind of missed my old, boring life!

  Suddenly I felt SO tired, I could barely keep my eyes open.

  I had this nagging feeling there was something really important I was supposed to do, but I couldn’t remember what it was.

  So I decided to deal with all that tomorrow after I’d gotten some sleep. I slipped into my pj’s and climbed into my soft, comfortable bed.

  I was happy to be back at MY house, in MY bedroom, sleeping in MY bed. But, more than anything, I was happy I’d made it out of my middle school ALIVE and Erin had been there to help me.

  I was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. In less than sixty seconds I had fallen into a very deep sleep.

  11. PLEASE, GET OUT OF MY ROOM!

  I opened my eyes in a panic and stared at the ceiling.

  It was already morning, and sunlight flooded my room.

  BANG-BANG! BANG-BANG!

  It sounded like someone was hammering nails into my skull.

  With a sledgehammer!

  I groaned, rolled over, and pulled my pillow over my head.

  EWW!! WHAT was that horrible odor?!

  It smelled like a skunk had sprayed my room and then crawled under my bed and had a bad case of diarrhea!

  BANG-BANG! BANG-BANG!

  Every nerve in my body was FREAKING OUT!!!

  “MAX!! Are you awake? Megan told us you came home last night instead of staying at Grandma’s house.”

  I lifted my pillow and stared at the door.

  It was my dad. WHY was he banging on my door like that?! Give me a break!

  WAIT! MY DAD WAS AT MY BEDROOM DOOR?!!

  I sat bolt upright as my heart pounded in my chest!

  YIKES! DAD’S COMIC BOOK!!

  I’d meant to put it back in his desk drawer last night, but I was so tired, I had totally forgotten!

  Now it was sitting on my shelf in plain sight!

  I scrambled out of bed, grabbed the comic, and looked desperately around my room.

  WHERE COULD I HIDE IT
?!

  “Max?! Are you in there?!” my dad asked, concerned.

  I frantically shoved the comic into my math textbook.

  Just as my dad turned the door handle, I realized my filthy costume and the rest of my clothes were STILL lying in a pile on the floor, exactly where I’d left them last night.

  So THAT’S why my room smelled like a skunk!

  In a panic, I dove into the pile and somehow shoved the entire thing under my bed in seconds. Then I nervously sat on the edge of my bed with my arms and legs crossed, trying NOT to look as GUILTY as I felt.

  I have no idea how I had missed my smelly boots! I was trying to kick them under my bed with my foot when my dad walked in. . . .

  ME, TRYING NOT TO LOOK GUILTY!

  Yeah, Dad! NOW I’m awake! Thanks to YOU. But DANG! Can’t a growing teen get some sleep around here?!!

  But I didn’t actually say any of that snarky stuff to my dad. Hey, I don’t have a DEATH wish!!

  “Since you won’t be at your grandmother’s this weekend as planned, I could use your help cleaning out the garage,” he explained.

  Suddenly he stopped talking, sniffed the air, and looked concerned.

  “Speaking of cleaning, Max, your room is getting a little . . . um, RIPE!”

  “Yeah, I know! I’m going to clean it today.”

  “Good idea!” he answered. Then he wrinkled his nose and scanned my room like he was trying to figure out where that smell was coming from.

  I jumped up and escorted my dad toward the door.

  “As a matter of fact, I think I’m going to clean my room right NOW! So why don’t you just go downstairs and relax? Maybe get a cup of coffee,” I said, closing the door behind him.

  “Okay, Max. I’ll see you in the garage in ten minutes!” Dad yelled through the door.

  TEN MINUTES?! How was I going to get dressed AND get rid of that pile of smelly clothes in only ten minutes?!

  I put on my favorite shirt and jeans, then rushed down to the kitchen. My mom was already fixing breakfast.

  “Good morning, dear!” She smiled. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with your grandma.”

  The plan was that I’d stay at my grandma’s house to look after her furry little Yorkshire terror terrier, Creampuff, while she and her friends went to the Westchester Knitting Convention for the weekend.

  Grandma was even going to pay me to basically sit around and play video games at her house all day. But she’d canceled at the last minute because it was supposed to rain. It didn’t rain! Not one drop!

  “No problem, Mom,” I said as I grabbed a trash bag from under the kitchen sink. I had just enough time to dispose of the evidence in my room before helping my dad clean the garage.

  “What’s up, Max? I’m really surprised YOU’RE already awake!” Megan said.

  I jumped. Where had she come from?!

  She eyeballed me like she was a hungry snake and I was her next meal. “Max, you look super tired. What time did you go to bed last night?”

  I stared her down. Did she actually think she could intimidate me?!

  She had NO IDEA what I had been through in the last twenty-four hours!

  Two could play this little game! Megan started it, but I was going to finish it!

  And if I was going down, she was going with me!! . . .

  ME, INTERROGATING MEGAN ABOUT HER BEDTIME LAST NIGHT!

  At first she glared at me. But she quickly plastered a fake smile across her face because Mom was watching.

  “Actually, I DON’T remember!” Megan shrugged. Then she narrowed her eyes at me and slunk away.

  “Five minutes, Max!” my dad called from the garage.

  I raced up the stairs to my room, pulled the smelly clothing out from under my bed, and stuffed everything into the garbage bag.

  I felt bad throwing Erin’s costume away since she had made it especially for the school play. And even though the play had been canceled, she probably could have used it for something else. But, thanks to me, now it wasn’t fit to wear to a mud-wrestling contest!

  I took the bag out to the garbage bin on the curb, tossed it inside, and slammed the bin shut.

  I immediately felt a sense of relief.

  Now there was even LESS evidence that could implicate me in that investigation at my school.

  I was about to run back into the house, grab a granola bar, and help my dad, when I heard a loud commotion coming from next door.

  I turned around to see our grumpy neighbor, Mr. Howell, striding toward our house.

  And he did NOT look happy! But that wasn’t even the worst part.

  He was dragging a busted bike and a raggedy wagon.

  Actually, MY busted bike and raggedy wagon!

  I just FROZE and stared at him.

  I had been awake for LESS than fifteen minutes, and already my day was turning into a complete DISASTER!!

  And THAT was just WRONG on so many levels!

  12. SORRY, BUT MY DAD IS NOT HOME

  Thank goodness I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet!

  Seeing Mr. Howell with the bike and wagon Erin and I had used in our getaway made me feel SICK!

  My stomach was doing so many flip-flops, I thought I was going to THROW UP in that garbage bin.

  I had just gotten rid of all the clothing I’d worn last night. And now Mr. Howell was dragging over MORE evidence that could RUIN MY LIFE!

  GIVE ME A BREAK! This day could NOT get any worse!

  I turned and quickly walked up the driveway back to the garage.

  I had already come up with a plan to avoid Mr. Howell. And it was brilliant!

  I was going to close the overhead garage door. Lock the front door. Refuse to answer the phone or the doorbell. And not allow any of my family members to leave the house. For TWO MONTHS! By that time, Mr. Howell would have completely forgotten about us and started to HARASS some other poor family and make THEIR lives miserable!

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to close the garage door because a broom was in the way. DANG!!

  Mr. Howell was standing there in the driveway, and I could tell he was mad. “Hello, Max! I really NEED to speak with your father! It’s an EMERGENCY!”

  Yeah, right! What Mr. Howell really NEEDED was to MIND HIS OWN BUSINESS! I’m just saying!

  My dad had just stepped inside the house a minute earlier to use the bathroom. But Mr. Howell didn’t know that. So I implemented emergency plan B! . . .

  “Um . . . I’m really sorry, Mr. Howell, but my dad isn’t home right now! I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

  Yes! Emergency plan B was to LIE like a RUG!

  “Well, this is VERY important! WHERE did he go and WHEN will he be back?!” Mr. Howell asked.

  “I think he went to . . . the . . . um . . . hardware store.”

  “Are you sure? It doesn’t open on Saturdays until ten a.m.,” Mr. Howell said, glancing at his watch. “That’s an HOUR from now!”

  “Actually, he went to the, um . . . CupCakery bakery! It opens early. But he’ll probably run errands after that. He could be gone for quite a while.”

  “Should I come back in a few hours?” he asked.

  “How about . . . um, next . . . Friday? Maybe. I’m sorry, but he’s REALLY busy,” I explained.

  “FRIDAY?!” Mr. Howell gasped. “Are you sure?! Well, okay then. I guess I’ll try again next week!”

  I could NOT believe my plan had actually worked!! Mr. Howell was about to turn and leave when . . .

  MY DAD, COMING BACK FROM THE BATHROOM!

  Things could NOT get any worse! But, for some reason, the normally grumpy Mr. Howell was in a really chatty mood.

  “Well, Crumbly, I’m glad you’re back. I was just about to leave. Your son here told me where you went. It’s actually one of my favorite places!”

  I looked at my dad and shrugged like I didn’t have the slightest idea what the guy was talking about.

  “Really? Well, what can I say? When you gotta go, YOU GOTTA GO!” Dad chuckled.r />
  “Well, next time let me know. I’ll go with you, if you don’t mind,” Mr. Howell said.

  Dad stared at Mr. Howell. “You’re joking! Right?!”

  Mr. Howell was talking about the BAKERY, but Dad was talking about the BATHROOM. Yes, it was all MY fault! But I only stretched the truth to get rid of Mr. Howell. He was going to SNITCH on me and completely DESTROY my life!

  Can you blame me? I was already dealing with a Dumpster load of problems BEFORE he showed up!

  I was worried their conversation was going to be a little TWISTED!! . . .

  ME, WISHING MR. HOWELL WOULD GO HOME!

  This entire FIASCO was SO . . . embarrassing!

  “Now, my favorite thing is all the smells! I love the SMELL of that place!” Mr. Howell gushed. “It’s also a great place to relax. I always bring a book, magazine, or newspaper to read.”

  “Well, I have to admit, I’ve done THAT a few times myself,” Dad said, looking a little uncomfortable.

  Mr. Howell continued. “Sometimes I just sit in there for hours. Once I accidentally dozed off and almost fell over. I made a HUGE mess! It was nearly impossible to get those brown chocolate stains out of my clothing.”

  Dad looked totally grossed out. He had no idea Mr. Howell was talking about a chocolate cupcake.

  “Anyway,” Mr. Howell said, “the next time I go, I’ll let you know, and you should do the same. Hey, why don’t we invite the ENTIRE neighborhood?!”

  Dad cleared his throat loudly. “Listen, Mr. Howell, it’s been nice chatting with you, and thank you for stopping by. But, as you can see, we’re right in the middle of cleaning out our garage.”

  “Well, it’s about time! The place is a mess!” Mr. Howell muttered.

  “Anyway, I hope you enjoy your bike ride around the neighborhood! Have a nice day!” Dad said.

  “This isn’t MY bicycle! I’m returning it to YOU! I don’t understand why YOUR kids think it’s okay to leave their JUNK on my lawn!!” Mr. Howell fumed.

  Dad looked at Mr. Howell, at the bike and the wagon, and then at me. “Actually, I’ve never seen that bike or wagon before today, Mr. Howell. What about you, Max?”

  I shrugged and tried not to freak out! “Um . . . they’re not mine.” (Which was true! Technically, they belonged to the secondhand shop downtown. Right? Or did they become mine the moment I took them out of the free-stuff pile? This was a moral dilemma I did NOT have the energy to struggle with right then!)