Mob School Survivor

by Greyson Mann

  You know what happens when I'm supposed to sit still? I start to itch. And the more I tell myself I can't scratch, the MORE I itch. So sitting still was kind of out of the question. I kept leaning backward to scratch my back on a tree.

  Also, I think it's pretty obvious that Sam can't sit still. He wiggles ALL the time. I kept nudging him to stop, but that only made him wiggle more. Then he started giggling. I can't take that guy anywhere.

  To make matters worse, the spider jockeys were practicing spider riding in the field right next to ours. If seeing a skeleton ride a spider isn't distracting, I don't know what is.

  I kept watching them out of the corner of my eye. I have to say, spider riding looks cool, even if the jocks are a bunch of jerks.

  Then I noticed Eddy Enderman leaning against a tree watching the jocks, too.

  So I started watching HIM. I wondered why he wasn't taking part in an extracurricular. But since they don't offer teleporting, I guess he wasn't all that thrilled with his choices.

  Did I mention the strategic explosion class was going on in the field on our OTHER side?

  After the third BOOM, I asked Mr. Zane how in the Overworld we were supposed to concentrate.

  He said we should try chanting. But when he showed us how, it sounded more like moaning.

  So now Sam and I were surrounded by spider-riding skeletons, exploding creepers, and a moaning zombie. I gotta tell you, I was really starting to regret this particular extracurricular.

  That's when something hit the oak tree behind us. And an acorn plunked down and bounced off Sam's head.

  We both jumped up and saw an ARROW sticking out of the tree!

  One of the skeletons from the field nearby rode over on his spider. At first, I couldn't take my eyes off the spider. I'm not a big fan of those hairy beasts. But when I looked up at the skeleton, I saw that it was Bones—of course.

  Mr. Zane recognized him, too. He told Bones to control his arrows, or he'd have to sit out of spider riding.

  Bones pulled his arrow out of the tree, but not before glaring at me with his dark, hollow eyes. Even his spider seemed irritated. It could have been my imagination, but I'm pretty sure his eyes glowed red.

  Did Bones think it was MY fault he got in trouble? Great. That's all I needed.

  As he loped off on his spider, I noticed Eddy Enderman watching me. I almost looked him in the eye, but I caught myself just in time. Yikes! Why was he looking at me?

  I couldn't concentrate for the rest of self-control class. I scratched myself silly. And I started poking Sam just for the fun of it. When he burst out laughing, our zombie teacher was NOT happy.

  I really think Mr. Zane should have had more self-control and just ignored us. But he didn't appreciate it when I pointed that out. So by the end of the afternoon, Sprinting class was starting to look pretty good.

  As we were walking back to the school, the other activities were finishing up, too. And somehow I found myself walking between my Evil Twin and Bones. I think that nasty skeleton was waiting for me.

  It must have been my lucky night, though, because instead of bullying ME, Bones started teasing my SISTER. He must have figured out that Chloe and I were twins, because he said something like, "Well if it isn't Itchy and his sister, Itchy Witchy."

  My Evil Twin lit up right away. It sure doesn't take much to fire up that girl, especially right after strategic exploding class.

  She hissed at Bones that she WASN'T a witch. She probably wanted to say she wasn't my sister either, but that argument has some holes in it. So she took the opportunity to strategically blow up.

  The blast sent Sam and I bouncing downhill. And I laughed all the way to the bottom. Want to know why?

  Because I finally got my revenge—and I didn't have to do a single thing. My Evil Twin's own nickname for me backfired and came back to bite her in the butt!

  Revenge sure tasted sweet.

  But as it turned out, SAM was mad. He wanted to know why Chloe was upset about being called a witch. "What's wrong with witches?" he said. "I like them."

  I corrected him and said that he liked ONE of them. And he liked her way too much, in my opinion.

  Sam got all wiggly and embarrassed, as if his crush on Willow was some big secret. But I was glad it was finally out in the open. I asked him if that witch had used some sort of potion on him. Why else would he be so into her?

  Well, that really got to him. He bounced away from me faster than I'd ever seen the slime move.

  That was when I decided that we should definitely sign up for sprinting class.

  I probably should have gone after him, but I didn't. My Evil Twin had just blown up, and then Sam had pretty much blown up, too. So I just sat there in the grass and enjoyed the scenery.

  After all, someone around here had to show a little self-control.

  DAY 10: SATURDAY

  Sam did not invite me for a sleepover this weekend. Was it something I said?

  He was kind of quiet at school the last couple of nights—not his usual bouncy self. And we didn't go to self-control class because it was cancelled. The principal said it was because there weren't enough kids signed up, but I'm pretty sure Mr. Zane just didn't want to deal with us. I blame it on the slime with the giggles.

  When I told Sam we should sign up for sprinting, he didn't really answer. Then I asked if he wanted to practice over the weekend, and he mumbled something about having to help his dad clean up the swamp. Really?

  The good news is, I'm getting plenty of practice sprinting at home—away from my mopey big sister.

  Cate has been a wreck ever since the Creeper Family Meeting. She wanders around sniffling, hissing, and bumping into furniture. She still wears Rosy the Wig, but it's usually on crooked.

  Cate isn't a big exploder—not like my other sisters. But lately, there's no telling what she'll do. For instance, when I told her she had her wig on sideways, she got all hissy.

  Like it was MY fault she hadn't looked in a mirror lately. Sheesh!

  So I left the house—quick.

  I spent the night practicing sprints in the backyard. I figure if I can learn how to run faster, it might hide the fact that I'm not the sneakiest creeper in the cave. And it might be my ticket to surviving Mob Middle School.

  But here's the thing: creepers aren't really known for their amazing running skills. I blame it on our short little legs.

  So after one lap around the yard, I was pretty much tuckered out. Then, while I was leaning against the neighbor's fence trying to catch my breath, something hissed at me.

  I thought it was a creeper—maybe even my scary sister with her crooked red wig. But then I looked down and saw Sir Coughs-a-Lot.

  That cat was standing RIGHT next to me, and his back was arched. I don't think that's a good sign.

  Well, let me tell you—I sprinted across the yard faster than an Enderman can teleport. I don't think my feet even touched the grass.

  I REALLY hate that cat. But I think he might be my secret weapon in the sprinting department. If Sam and I use my backyard for training, we'll be speedsters in no time!

  I can't wait to tell Sam on Monday. Hopefully that slime will be acting normal by then.

  DAY 13: TUESDAY

  Yeah, so Sam was NOT back to normal last night. He's kind of a sensitive slime. You'd think insults would just bounce right off him, but no.

  I'd apologize for the Willow Witch thing, except I'm fighting my own battle with Bones and his rattlers. And right now, I'm doing it alone. Unless you count Ziggy Zombie, who seems to be my new lunch buddy.

  I blame that on Sam and his cheerfulness. We should have shut down the Ziggy thing the first time he sat with us, but Sam had to be all friendly and welcoming. So Ziggy keeps coming back around.

  Luckily, the rash on my head is clearing up, so Ziggy has stopped being so fascinated by that. But at lunch last night, he was chewing carrots with his mouth open.

  I turned almost completely around in my chair so I didn't have to
see it. But that put me face to face with Bones.

  Bones grinned at me and said, "Hey, Itchy. Where's your pal Sticky?"

  Man. You bring your pet squid to school for just ONE day, and no one will let you forget it.

  I ignored Bones, but then he and his gang started flicking food at me. I could feel it hitting my back, like little arrows. But I practiced self-control and didn't even flinch.

  Then Sam showed up. FINALLY. When I asked where he'd been, he said he was carrying Willow's lunch tray for her.

  Sure enough, the witch was sitting at the other end of the table with a tray of food. But why did she need help carrying it? She had two perfectly good arms, didn't she?

  That's what I wanted to say to Sam. But I didn't. Because of the sensitivity thing. And because Bones had just chucked something at my head that felt an awful lot like an egg. A cracked egg.

  As the egg goop seeped down the sides of my face, I looked at Sam. He hadn't even noticed. Boy, if a creeper can't count on his buddy during times like this, who can he count on?

  That's when Ziggy got up and started wiping my face with a napkin. I sure hoped it wasn't the one he'd used to wipe his own disgusting mouth. But it probably was. Man, did my face itch after that.

  Things got worse after school when I tried to talk Sam into joining sprinting. I don't know what his deal was, but he just flat out said NO. I didn't even know that word was in his vocabulary.

  I told him how fast he would be—that he can bounce faster than most guys can even walk. But he wouldn't listen. Then I saw Willow coming toward us, and it all started to make sense.

  Sam told me he was walking Willow home. She was going to show him how to use gunpowder to brew splash potions or something like that. And he actually sounded EXCITED about it!

  That's when Bones rode up on his spider and started making kissy noises. Willow gave him the stink-eye, but Sam didn't seem to notice. He just bounced off into the sunrise with his witch by his side. That boy got bit by the love bug—bad. I sure hope it's not contagious.

  Just the thought of liking a girl that much makes me itch. But these days, what doesn't? I gave my body an all-over scratch when no one was looking. Then I marched right over to sprinting class. I told the teacher, Mr. Carl, that I wanted to join.

  I probably should have slowed down and thought about it. For one thing, the teacher is a creeper. And like I said, creepers aren't known for their sprinting.

  Plus, as soon as class started, someone grabbed me from behind. I jumped so high I almost blew up, especially when I saw who it was.

  Ziggy Zombie.

  Yup, he's taking sprinting class, too. Lucky me.

  So when people say they hate Mondays, I get it. Hopefully tonight is a better night.

  DAY 15: THURSDAY

  I'm sitting in art class right now. I'm supposed to be molding a mooshroom out of clay, but I just realized something.

  I'm halfway through my 30-day plan. And I'm not exactly rocking it.

  Sure, I've avoided the spider jockeys, even if I think those jocks look cool riding their spiders. And I've somehow managed not to look Eddy Enderman in the eye.

  But I'm still getting called Itchy by pretty much everyone. And instead of avoiding skeletons, I'm being terrorized by a whole gang of them. At least there aren't any here in art class. A creeper needs a little peace.

  Bones isn't letting up on my Evil Twin either. He's got his whole gang calling her "Itchy Witchy" now.

  One of them even used his bony finger to scratch the nickname into her locker. I heard that when she saw it, she almost blew up right there by the water fountain.

  I don't know why she lets him get to her. The girl really needs to learn some self-control.

  But secretly, whenever she and Bones are going at it, I want to pull up a chair to watch. It's about time my Evil Twin gets what's coming to her.

  Sam is sitting next to me right now, working really hard on his mooshroom. But I gotta say, it doesn't look anything like a cow. It's red, but it's just a big blob.

  When I mention to Sam that he might want to give his mooshroom an actual head, he turns to me with these gooey eyes. And he says he's not making a mooshroom—he's making a heart. For Willow.

  BARF. Why do I even try?

  Guess I'd better put this notebook away and work on my own mooshroom. When our teacher comes around, at least ONE of us at the table ought to have something to show for ourselves.

  DAY 17: SATURDAY

  So Sam got his heart broken last night. I don't mean the mooshroom heart he was making for Willow. I mean his real one.

  If you've never seen a weepy slime, trust me—you don't want to. He was oozing green tears and snot EVERYWHERE.

  He could barely calm down enough to tell me what happened. Then he got the hiccups, which made for a very bouncy conversation.

  I guess someone wrote Willow a letter and signed Sam's name. It said all this nasty stuff about her and that he didn't want to see her anymore.

  Sam found out about it from another eighth-grade witch. He tried to tell Willow that he didn't write the letter, but she won't talk to him.

  I'm kind of afraid she's going to use some nasty potion on him, but I didn't tell him that.

  The slime has enough to worry about right now—like how he's going to keep himself together instead of breaking into a thousand little sad, sloppy slimes.

  I don't know what I'm going to do with that guy. As if I don't have enough problems of my own! Like steering clear of Bones. And outrunning Ziggy in Sprinting class.

  Oh, and I just remembered I have a big project due in a week. It's that one that has me talking to my family about our "history."

  I don't know where I'd rather be right now: with a weepy, snotty Sam or working on my history project at home with all of my explosive sisters.

  But Sam didn't really give me a choice. He said he was going to spend the weekend in bed cuddling with Moo. So I guess that's one decision made for me.

  History project, here I come.

  DAY 18: SUNDAY

  Boy, you sure find out a lot about your family when you ask the right questions.

  Tonight, I told Mom and Dad about my history project. Dad got all excited and pulled out a gazillion boxes of old photos. He had pictures of creepers that were in black and white instead of green. If I looked at them from the right angle, my old relatives almost looked like Endermen. COOL!

  With Dad's help, I put together a Creeper family tree. And there are some interesting characters in my family, let me tell you. I don't know how I'm going to choose just one to write a report about.

  On my mom's side, there is …

  • A glamorous great-aunt named Scarlet who wore feather boas. (Mom said that must be where Cate gets her fashion sense.)

  • A great-grandma who tamed a CAT. How do I know? It was sitting in her lap in the picture. (But I will not be writing my report on this person. I definitely do NOT want my classmates to know I'm related to a Cat-Lady Creeper. Just the thought of it makes me itchy.)

  • A great-grandpa who got struck by lightning. His photo had this eerie glow.

  On my dad's side, there is …

  • A great-grandma who invented a way to turn creeper explosions into energy.

  • A not-so-great uncle who blew up a village well. In the CREEPER CHRONICLE newspaper article, his photo looked more like a mug shot.

  • A great-aunt who ran away to the Extreme Hills with her boyfriend, a miner.

  I didn't know Cate was in the room with my parents and me. But when Dad mentioned the miner, she was suddenly right in Dad's face.

  When she asked why he was okay with his great-aunt dating a human, Dad cleared his throat. Then he said something like, "Those were different times, back then."

  I could tell Dad needed my help, so I thought fast. I dug deep into the box of photos and pulled one out. I practically shoved the photo in Dad's face and said, "Who's this?"

  Cate crept off in a huff, but Dad looked relie
ved. He took a close look at the picture and said, "THAT is your great-great-grandpa Gerald. That's the creeper you and I were named after."

  Right away, I wasn't very fond of this Mr. Gerald Creeper. If not for him, I might have been named Christopher or Cayden. But the next thing Dad said changed my mind.

  He told me that Great-Great-Grandpa Gerald was a pacifist.

  Say WHAT? You'd think my parents might have mentioned that to me once or twice. Like maybe when my Evil Twin was teasing me about being a pacifier.

  I mean, I was NAMED after this guy, and I've never even heard of the creeper before. WOW. Makes me wonder what other secrets are hiding in these dusty old boxes.

  I would have raised a stink about all that, except my Evil Twin walked in right then and asked what we were doing. When Dad told her, she got all wide-eyed. I think she totally forgot about the history report.