50 - Calling All Creeps!, Page 2

  I could see that the keys were still wet and sticky. She kept making mistakes. Backing up. Typing again. Typing. Typing. Muttering under her breath the whole time.

  No use. No good.

  The front page refused to come back.

  Finally, she gave up with a loud groan. She tossed her hair in the air with both hands. And turned to me with a growl.

  “You creep!” she cried. “All that work! All that work—lost!”

  I swallowed hard. “Tasha, it was an accident,” I muttered. “Really. It was just an accident.”

  “You little creep!” Tasha shrieked. Melly stood beside her, glaring at me angrily, shaking her head.

  “Wart pushed me!” I cried. I turned to the table. Wart and David had vanished from the room.

  “You’re off the paper!” Tasha screamed. “Get out, Ricky. You’re out of here!”

  “Huh?” My heart stopped for a second. “No, Tasha—wait!” I pleaded.

  “Get out! Get out!” She made shooing motions with both hands. The way you shoo away a dog. “You’re off the paper! I mean it!”

  “But—but—but—” I sputtered like an outboard motor. “But I need the activity points! Please give me a second chance! Please!” I begged.

  “Out!” Tasha insisted.

  Melly tsk-tsked and shook her head.

  “You’re so unfair!” I wailed.

  I know, I know. I sounded like a baby. But, give me a break. It really was unfair.

  I turned and slunk to the door. And guess who was standing there. Guess who had watched the whole ugly scene.

  You’re right.

  Iris.

  Her first day of school. And she already knew what a loser I was.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked glumly.

  “They said I needed an after-school activity. So I thought I’d try the newspaper,” Iris replied. She followed me down the empty hall. “But I don’t think I want to join the newspaper. That red-haired girl is really mean.”

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

  “She shouldn’t have called you a creep,” Iris continued. “It was just an accident. She’s horrible! She should give you another chance.”

  Maybe Iris and I will become good friends, I thought.

  I pulled my blue parka from my locker. Then Iris and I made our way out of the building.

  The afternoon sun was already dropping behind the houses and bare trees. It gets dark so early here in the winter. Patches of snow on the lawns and sidewalk gleamed dully as we walked toward the street.

  “Which way is your house?” I asked, shifting my backpack over my parka.

  Iris pointed.

  “Mine too,” I said. We started walking together. I didn’t really feel like talking. I was still totally upset about getting kicked off the newspaper.

  But I felt glad that Iris was on my side.

  We crossed the street and made our way up the next block. A tall hedge stretched along the entire block, broken only by driveways.

  Some kids had marked off the street for a street hockey game. They were skating back and forth, leaning on their sticks, cheering and shouting.

  “Do you skate?” Iris asked.

  “A little,” I told her. “My Rollerblades are kind of broken. The brakes came loose and—”

  “I always take off the brakes,” she said. “It’s a lot more fun without the brakes—don’t you think?”

  I started to answer. But a sound from behind the tall hedge made me stop.

  Was someone whispering?

  Did I hear someone giggling?

  Iris and I kept walking. She was telling me something about how kids skated in the town she moved from. I didn’t really listen.

  I kept hearing footsteps. Whispers. Scraping sounds. From the other side of the hedge.

  Finally, I raised a finger to my lips. “Iris—shhh,” I whispered.

  Her blue eyes widened in surprise. “Ricky—what’s the matter?”

  “I think we’re being followed,” I told her.

  5

  “I don’t hear anything,” Iris whispered. She narrowed her eyes at me.

  We both listened.

  Silence. Except for the cheers of the street hockey players behind us down the block.

  We started walking.

  I heard a giggle. Some whispers.

  I turned into the next driveway and darted behind the hedge.

  “Who’s there?” Iris called. She came running up behind me. Her eyes searched the hedge, then the front yard.

  “No one here,” I said.

  She laughed, “Ricky, why do you look so worried? You probably heard a bird or something.”

  “Yeah. A bird,” I repeated. I led the way around the hedge to the sidewalk. I didn’t want Iris to think I was crazy. But I knew I’d heard something.

  We walked past a few more houses. Then I heard a whispered chant from behind the hedge: “Sicky Ricky… Sicky Ricky…”

  “Did you hear that?” I asked Iris.

  She shook her head. I heard the distant hum of a plane, high overhead. “Do you mean that plane?” she asked.

  “No,” I replied. “I heard a voice.”

  A soft giggle floated out from the hedge.

  I ran to check it out. Nearly slipped on a slick patch of ice.

  I grabbed the hedge to catch my balance. No one back there. An empty front yard.

  Straightening my backpack, I hurried to Iris on the sidewalk.

  “Ricky, you’re a little weird,” she said. She laughed. But I could tell she was starting to wonder about me. Starting to think maybe I was too weird to be her friend.

  “I heard someone back there. Really,” I insisted. “They must be hiding in the hedge or—”

  “AAAAAIIIIIII!” I heard a scream of attack!

  The hedge shook.

  I staggered backwards toward the street.

  And four figures came leaping out of the hedge. Four kids shrieking and cheering.

  My four enemies!

  I saw Iris’ face twist in surprise. And then Wart grabbed me. David grabbed me too. Brenda and Jared joined them.

  They pushed me one way. Then pulled me back.

  Laughing and shouting, they spun me around.

  Then David tackled me to the ground.

  They swarmed around me. Pushed me down. Held me in the cold, wet mud.

  “Let go of me!” I shrieked.

  I tried to kick and thrash and squirm free. But the four of them held me firmly.

  “Let go of me!” I wailed. “What are you going to do?”

  6

  “Let him go!” I heard Iris cry.

  “Okay,” Wart replied. “No problem.” The big chubby wart had been sitting on my chest. He climbed to his feet.

  I took a deep breath.

  The other three let go of me and took a step back.

  I sat up, rubbing mud off my parka sleeve. I glanced at Iris. She stood near the curb, hands balled into fists, her eyes wide with alarm.

  With a groan, I started to stand up.

  But Wart and Jared shoved me back down. “Not so fast,” Jared said. Jared is short and skinny, but he’s real mean.

  “What do you want?” I demanded.

  Wart leaned over me. “Why did you tell Tasha that the soda can accident was my fault?” he asked.

  “Because it was your fault,” I shot back. I pulled a dead brown leaf from my hair.

  “But why did you tell Tasha?” Wart asked nastily.

  “Because he’s a wimp,” David chimed in.

  “Because he was scared,” Brenda said.

  “Because you’re a snitch,” Wart accused.

  “But it was your fault!” I cried. I tried to climb up, but they pushed me down again.

  Iris let out a short cry, then covered her mouth with both hands. I could see she was really scared. “Don’t worry,” I called to her. “They’re not really going to hurt me.”

  I turned to Wart. “Right?”


  All four of them laughed.

  “What should we do to Ricky Rat?” Brenda said.

  “Hurt him,” David replied.

  They laughed again.

  “No. Let’s make him sing,” Wart said, grinning at me.

  “Oh, no!” I groaned. “Not again!”

  They think it’s a riot to make me sing songs to them. They force me to sing all the time. It’s because I have a terrible voice, and I can’t carry a tune. “Please—” I begged.

  “Yes. Sing a song—for your new friend,” Brenda said, motioning to Iris.

  “No. No way!” I insisted.

  David and Jared bent down and grabbed my shoulders. They started to push me deeper into the mud. “Sing a song,” Jared ordered.

  “Sing The Star-Spangled Banner,” Wart said.

  The others cheered and clapped. “Yes! The Star-Spangled Banner! That’s the best!”

  “Noooo,” I groaned. “Not again. Please, guys! Please! I don’t know the words. Really. Don’t make me sing that song again!”

  I begged and pleaded. Iris begged and pleaded.

  But the four of them stood over me, staring me down, not letting me up from the mud.

  What choice did I have? I knew only one way to get them to leave. So, sitting there on the cold, muddy ground, I started to sing.

  “Oh, say can you see… ?”

  They burst into loud laughter. They hooted and howled. They shoved each other and slapped each other high fives. They practically fell down in the mud themselves, they were laughing so hard.

  “…and the hooooome of the brave.”

  Somehow I made it through the whole song. Of course, I forgot most of the words. And of course my voice cracked at the high parts.

  And of course I’d never been so embarrassed in all my life.

  Iris must think I’m the biggest jerk on the planet, I told myself. She must think I’m a total loser.

  I wanted to sink into the mud like a worm and never come back up.

  I took off. I just started to run.

  I didn’t glance back. Not at my four enemies. Not at Iris.

  Especially not at Iris. I didn’t want to see her laughing at me too.

  Or feeling sorry for me.

  I ran all the way home without slowing down. Then I burst into the house. Slammed the door behind me. And ran up to my room.

  This is all Tasha’s fault, I decided.

  First Tasha kicked me off the newspaper staff—because of an accident. Then Tasha told Wart that I had blamed him.

  So Wart and his pals had no choice. They had to chase after me and embarrass me in front of Iris.

  All Tasha’s fault… all Tasha’s fault…

  I was still thinking about her as I struggled to fall asleep that night. Still thinking about how I’d pay Tasha back some day.

  It took hours and hours to fall asleep.

  The phone beside my bed rang and woke me up Saturday morning. Sleepily, I grabbed up the receiver.

  Guess who was on the other end?

  Tasha.

  Yes. A surprise call from Tasha.

  A call that would change my life.

  7

  “Huh?” I managed to choke out, still half asleep. I cleared my throat.

  “I need your help,” Tasha said.

  “Huh?” I sat straight up in bed. Tasha needed my help? Was I totally asleep? Was I dreaming this?

  “I need you to cover a story for me,” Tasha continued. “For the newspaper. I’ve tried everyone else I know. They couldn’t do it. You are the last person I wanted to call. But you’re my only hope.”

  “Huh?” I replied.

  “Ricky—is that all you can say?” Tasha demanded shrilly. “Did I wake you up or something?”

  “Huh? Uh… no.” I cleared my throat again. I shook my head, trying to force myself to be alert.

  Tasha needed my help?

  “I need you to come to school and cover the Midwinter Car Wash,” Tasha said. “I need a story and photos. Right away.”

  “Huh?” I replied. Why couldn’t I stop saying that? I guess I was in shock or something. “A car wash in winter?”

  Tasha sighed. “You don’t know about the school car wash? Didn’t you see all the signs? Don’t you read the newspaper?”

  “Oh. Right. I just forgot,” I lied. I peeked out the window. Golden sunshine. Nice day for a car wash.

  “Great! I’ll come right to school, Tasha,” I told her. “Thanks for giving me another chance.”

  “I didn’t want to call you,” she said coldly. “But most of my reporters went on a field trip. And the others are working at the car wash. If my dog could take pictures, I would have used him.”

  “Thanks a lot!” I cried.

  I know. I know. She was trying to insult me.

  But she was also giving me a chance. Maybe I wouldn’t have to take summer school after all.

  I pulled on a pair of faded jeans and a sweatshirt. Gulped down a fast breakfast—some kind of pink, blue, and green cereal and a glass of orange juice. Then I ran all the way to school.

  It was a warm day. On the radio, they said it would snow tonight and tomorrow. But it felt too warm to snow.

  As I crossed the street to the school, I saw kids setting up the car wash on the playground. A white banner, fluttering in the morning breeze, proclaimed: HARDING CAR WASH—$5.

  Kids were stretching long hoses from the back of the school building. Several buckets were set on a long wooden table, along with sponges and a stack of white towels. A blue Pontiac and a mini-van were already in line to be washed.

  I hurried into the building and down the hall to the newspaper room. I found Tasha all alone in the classroom. She leaned over her computer, typing away.

  She frowned when she saw me run in. “I’d do the story myself,” she said. “But I have to finish up the features page. I’ve never been this desperate.”

  Nice greeting, huh?

  “I’ll do a good job. I promise,” I said.

  She crossed the room and picked up a camera from Ms. Richards’ desk. “Here. Take this, Ricky.” She handed it to me. “And be careful with it. It’s my dad’s Pentax. It’s really expensive, and it’s his favorite camera.”

  I held the camera carefully in both hands and examined it. I raised it to my eye. “Say cheese,” I said.

  Tasha didn’t smile. “I’m warning you, Ricky,” she said sternly. “Don’t let anything happen to that camera. Take four or five different shots of kids washing cars. Then bring it right back to me.”

  “No problem,” I told her.

  “I want the story to be six or eight paragraphs,” she continued. “You’ll have to write it today and get it to me by tomorrow at the latest. Ms. Richards and I are going to finish laying out the paper and print it Monday night.”

  “No problem,” I repeated.

  “I’m saving a column on page two,” Tasha said. “So promise me you won’t mess up this time.”

  “I promise,” I said.

  Then I turned and hurried out to the playground.

  I can do this, I told myself. I can handle it.

  I can turn my life around this morning. Everything will be great after I do this assignment.

  That’s what I told myself.

  But as soon as I arrived at the car wash, my life was ruined.

  8

  Squinting into the bright morning sun, I jogged across the playground. My sneakers slipped in the wet grass. I carried the camera carefully in front of me in both hands.

  As I came closer, I shielded my eyes from the sun with one hand. I recognized the blue Pontiac. It belonged to Wart’s parents. Kids with hoses surrounded it, spraying it on all sides.

  Raising the camera, I ran toward the car. “Hold it right there!” I called. “Let me take a picture for the Herald!”

  The first spray of water shocked me.

  I felt something hit the front of my sweatshirt. Something cold.

  I let out a star
tled cry.

  The next two sprays hit me in the face and the chest—and sent me sprawling backwards.

  “Hey—!” I managed to shout. “Stop it! Are you crazy?”

  I tried scrambling out of the way. But now there were four hoses trained on me.

  “Ohhhh.” The water was freezing cold!

  Ducking out of the way, I recognized the four grinning faces aiming the hoses. Brenda, Wart, David, and Jared.

  Who else?

  Sputtering, I turned and tried to run out of range. Cold water sprayed down on me like a shower. Another hose caught me in the back.

  “Stop it! Hey—stop it, you guys!” I cried.

  And then I remembered the camera.

  Ducking my head from another hard blast of water, I raised the camera.

  Drenched. Totally drenched.

  “Aaaaaiiiiii!” An angry scream tore from my throat.

  Staring in horror at the dripping wet camera, I lost it. For the first time in my life, I totally lost it.

  I strapped the camera around my neck. Then I spun around and hurtled toward my four attackers.

  My last chance! I told myself.

  My last chance on the newspaper—and they’re ruining it!

  Howling and giggling, the four seventh-graders tried to blast me back with their hoses. But I lowered my head and came at them.

  Sputtering, shaking off water, I leaped on Wart. I tackled him around the waist and dragged him to the ground.

  He cut his laugh short with a startled gasp.

  I grabbed the hose from his hand. Pulled open the door to his parents’ car. And sent a spray of water into the car.

  “Hey—noooooo!” Wart wailed.

  Water from David’s hose shot against my back. Water sprayed the air like a fountain. At the next car, I heard kids laughing and shouting in surprise.

  I drenched the backseat and then the front.

  When I saw Brenda, David, and Jared drop their hoses, I dropped mine too. And started to run.

  They all chased after me.

  I didn’t get far.

  The grass was so slippery and wet. I ran a few steps—and then my sneakers slid out from under me.

  I went down hard.

  Fell facedown into the grass.