50 - Calling All Creeps! (7 page)

I let it ring twelve times before I hung up.

I slammed the phone back onto the bed table. After I calmed down a little, I
sat down at my desk and tried to do my homework.

But I couldn’t keep my mind on it.

At least the phone isn’t ringing and ringing tonight, I told myself. The
Creeps weren’t calling me tonight.

They were waiting to hear from me. They were waiting to hear if I okayed
Wart’s plan to go to school early and plant the seeds in the lunchroom food.

I slammed my science textbook shut.

“I
will
go to school early,” I said out loud.

But not to meet the four Creeps. Not to drop Identity Seeds into everyone’s
lunch.

I’ll go to school early and talk to Ms. Crawford, the principal. I’ll tell
her the whole story. I’ll tell her what the Creeps are planning to do at her
school.

She’ll help me stop them. I know she will.

My clock radio woke me half an hour earlier than usual. I clicked it off and
listened to a soft patter against my bedroom window.

Staggering across the room, I peeked through the blinds. A gloomy gray day
outside. Frozen rain dribbling down.

I yawned. I had tossed and twisted all night.

I got dressed quickly, pulling on a large red and brown flannel shirt and baggy brown corduroy pants. I gulped down a fast
breakfast of orange juice and corn flakes.

“You’re up early this morning,” Mom commented sleepily. She stood waiting for
the coffeemaker to drip.

“Yeah. Got to go,” I mumbled. I grabbed my parka and backpack and hurried out
the back door.

I pulled my baseball cap down over my eyes and jogged through the cold,
drizzling rain. Such a dreary day. Everything looked gray this morning. No
bright color anywhere.

As I made my way to school, I practiced my speech to Ms. Crawford. I wanted
to tell the story right. I wanted everything in the right order. I didn’t want
to leave out any important parts.

I passed a man in a gray rain slicker, out walking his Dalmatian. I didn’t
see anyone else on the street.

The school appeared empty when I arrived. The halls were silent. My wet shoes
skidded over the floor.

I stepped into the front office. The room was empty. The two secretaries
hadn’t arrived yet. But I saw a light from the principal’s office in back. And I
heard a cough.

“Ms. Crawford, are you back there?” I called.

“Yes,” she called back. “Who is it?”

I heard her chair scrape. And then she poked her white-haired head out of the
office door. “Ricky?” She squinted at me in surprise. “You startled me. You’re
here awfully early, aren’t you?”

“I—I need to talk to you,” I stammered.

She motioned for me to step around the front counter and into her office.
“What is the problem?” she asked, closing the door behind me.

“It’s kind of a long story,” I began.

Would she believe me?

Ms. Crawford always reminds me of a black-and-white movie. She has short,
curly white hair, gray eyes, and a very pale face. And she always wears black—black pants suits and black skirts and tops.

I don’t know how old she is. I think she’s pretty old. But she’s very lively
and athletic. Sometimes she joins in during volleyball games in the gym.

I sat down in the stiff-backed chair in front of her desk. She moved some
files aside and leaned across the desk toward me. “I’m glad you came by,” she
said, her smile fading.

“Huh? Really?”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Ricky,” she continued. “I understand there
was some trouble at the car wash last Saturday.”

She waited for me to say something. But I didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve been told that you started a water fight last Saturday,” Ms. Crawford
said sternly.

“Me?” I cried. “I didn’t start it! I—I—”

She motioned with one hand for me to be silent. “Mr. Wartman—Richard’s
father—called me to complain. He said that the inside of his car was totally
soaked. He told me that—”

“That’s who I want to talk to you about,” I interrupted. I could see that
this conversation was not going as I had planned. I decided I’d better jump in
as fast as possible.

“I want to talk to you about Wart,” I said. “I mean, Richard. He’s not a kid,
see. He told me. He’s a Creep.”

Ms. Crawford’s mouth dropped open. She blinked at me.

“And you know his three friends?” I blurted out. “They’re Creeps too. They’re
monsters. Purple monsters.”

Ms. Crawford twisted her face into a frown. “Ricky—” she started.

“No—really!” I insisted. “They’re monsters. They call themselves Creeps!
They told me so themselves. I
saw
them! Wart ate a squirrel! He’s a
Creep!”

This wasn’t going over well. I could see that by the deepening furrows in Ms.
Crawford’s forehead. It wasn’t the way I’d planned to tell the story. But it was
too late now. I had to get it all out.

“I’m their Commander,” I told the principal. “At least, they
think
I’m
their Commander. But I’m not really. And they—”

Ms. Crawford jumped to her feet. “Ricky—are you okay?” she asked.

“They want to plant seeds and turn the whole school into Creeps,” I continued
frantically. “They want…”

She stepped around her desk and placed a hand on my forehead. “Do you have a
temperature? You feel a little warm.”

She moved back and studied my face. “Would you like to see the nurse? She
usually comes in early.”

“No. Not the nurse!” I cried. “You don’t understand. We can’t let anyone eat
the lunchroom food! Because they’re monsters!”

Ms. Crawford scratched the top of her head. “Should I send you home?” she
asked. “Do you feel sick? I could have someone take you home.” She reached for
the phone. “Are your parents still home? I could call them.”

“No—please!” I jumped to my feet. “I’m okay. Really.”

She wasn’t going to believe me. No way I could get her to listen to me.

“Just a joke,” I said, backing to the door. “Just a joke. Really. I’m sorry
about Mr. Wartman’s car. It was an accident. The hose just slipped.”

I fumbled for the door. Pushed it open. Backed out.

“Ricky, wait,” Ms. Crawford called. “I really think you should see the nurse.
Just talk to her. You seem very excited. Perhaps if you talk to her…”

“I’m fine. Really,” I insisted.

I turned and ran through the front office and out the door.

Into the long, empty hallway.

My heart flip-flopping in my chest, I turned the corner—and bumped into
Wart and his three friends.

“Ohh!” I let out a startled cry. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Glad you joined us, Commander,” Wart said in a whisper. His eyes glanced up
and down the hall. “Let’s go.”

“Go? Go where?” I demanded.

“To the lunchroom,” he replied.

I turned and looked for Ms. Crawford. But she had stayed in her office. The
long hall stood empty.

Wart and David moved to my sides. Brenda led the way to the stairs that went
down to the lunchroom and the kitchen. Jared walked close behind me.

They had me surrounded. I had no choice. I had to go with them.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I could see the open doors to the
kitchen. Bright white light poured out to the hall.

I took a deep breath.

What was that smell? Tuna casserole?

I could hear women’s voices, the cooks working away at the stoves.

With Brenda leading the way, the five of us moved silently to the kitchen
doorway. Now I could hear the clatter of pots and the hiss of something cooking on the stove. A woman coughed. Another one laughed.

Brenda turned suddenly, and I nearly walked into her. She shoved something
into my hand.

The plastic bag of seeds.

“You may have the honor, Commander,” she whispered solemnly. “You may hide
the seeds in the food.”

“Uh… well…” I pressed my back against the tile wall. I didn’t want to go
in there. I didn’t want the honor of planting the seeds.

“Maybe we should come back later,” I suggested. “Remember I suggested that we
wait? I told you to wait until—”

“We have no choice,” Jared whispered. “We know you want the mission to
succeed.”

“Good luck,” Brenda said softly.

David and Jared gave me a hard push into the kitchen.

Squeezing the bag of seeds between my hands, I blinked in the bright light. I
could see three women in white uniforms and white aprons. They stood across the
big room at the stoves against the wall.

They had their backs to me. Tall soup pots bubbled and steamed on the stoves.

I swallowed hard. If one of them turned around, she’d see me instantly.

I slid beside a cabinet near the doorway. Ahead of me stood a long, shiny aluminum counter. Enormous trays of food stood
cooling on the counter. I saw a big tray of macaroni and cheese, a tray of
steamed broccoli, a huge tray of tuna casserole.

I guessed it would take about ten steps to reach the counter. So close!

I could probably dive to the counter, pour the seeds out into one of the big
food trays, and run out the door in less than ten seconds.

Even if one of the cooks turned around, I could accomplish the mission and be
out of there before she could even cry out.

What am I thinking?
I asked myself, pressing against the side of the
cabinet.

I don’t WANT to accomplish the mission!

I glanced back to the kitchen doorway. All four Creeps huddled there,
watching me. They waved their hands frantically, motioning me to get on with it.

I had no choice. No way to escape.

I had to go ahead and plant the seeds.

I sucked in a deep breath and held it. Then, my eyes on the white-uniformed
backs of the three cooks, I crept up quickly to the long food counter.

I stopped a few feet away. In front of me on the counter stood an enormous
square metal pan of macaroni and cheese. It was steaming hot, fresh from the
oven. The tangy cheese smell floated up to me.

I can’t do this! I decided. I can’t!

I turned back. The four Creeps leaned into the doorway, blocking my escape.
All four of them were signaling wildly for me to pour the seeds.

I turned back to the macaroni tray.

I raised the seed bag.

I pulled open the top.

They’re watching me, I knew. They’re all watching. I have to do this. Or else
they will know that I’m not their Commander.

I have to go ahead with it.

But then—in a flash—I had an idea.

I held the seed bag in one hand from the bottom. I raised it in front of me.

I turned and flashed the four Creeps a thumbs-up sign. Then I took a step
toward the food counter.

Another step.

And I pretended to trip over something.

I stumbled forward. My hands shot up. And the seed bag flew into the air.

I faked a frantic attempt to catch it as I went down.

But the bag hit the side of the aluminum counter. Turned upside down. And
dropped to the floor, spilling the seeds all over the floor. I watched them roll
in all directions.

The bag lay on its side in front of me. Empty.

Yessss!
I thought happily. I’ve done it! I’ve destroyed their plan!

I forced an unhappy expression on my face.

And scrambled on my hands and knees out the kitchen door.

Wart pulled me up and dragged me away from the open doorway.

I shook my head sadly. “Sorry,” I murmured. “I’m so sorry. I have failed you
all.” I pretended to be near tears. “Really. I’m so sorry.”

“No problem,” Jared replied.

He pulled another bag of seeds from his coat pocket and slapped it into my
hand.

“We always carry a spare,” Brenda whispered. “You never know when you’ll need
more Identity Seeds.”

“Uh… that’s lucky,” I replied.

“Now go do it!” Wart cried softly, slapping me on the back. “This time you
will not fail, Commander.”

The four of them pushed me back through the doorway.

I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the bright kitchen lights. The
three cooks were still working at the stoves. They still had their backs to me.

I crept up to the food counter and peered down at the huge tray of simmering
macaroni. I had the seed bag gripped tightly in my right hand. The little bag
felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds!

I raised the seed bag over the steaming macaroni.

Glanced back to the doorway. All four of the Creeps leaned into the opening,
their eyes locked on me.

I turned back to the food counter. Raised the bag higher over the macaroni
tray.

I have no choice, I told myself. I have to do this now.

I poured the whole bag of seeds over the top of the macaroni and cheese. Then
I turned quickly to the door. And tiptoeing silently, started to sneak out of
the kitchen.

“Stir them!” Brenda whispered. She made a stirring motion with her hand.

“Huh?” I stopped a few feet from the door.

“Stir the seeds in!” she whispered urgently. “You’ve got to hide them!”

“Oh. Right.”

I turned and crept back up to the big tray of macaroni and cheese. I picked
up a long wooden spoon and stirred the seeds into the macaroni. Then I turned to
sneak back out.

I took three steps—when two strong hands grabbed my shoulders roughly from
behind. “What are
you
doing in here, young man?” a woman barked.

The hands spun me around. I stared up into the angry face of Mrs. Marshall.
“What are you doing in here?” she repeated.

Mrs. Marshall is the
nice
cook. She’s our favorite. She always kids
around with everyone at lunchtime when she dishes out the food.