50 - Calling All Creeps! (2 page)

“Hi, Melly,” I said.

She glanced up and frowned too. “Ricky—you made me lose my place.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Any stories for me today?”

You probably wonder why I signed up to be a reporter on the
Harding Herald.
It’s not that I’m a great writer or
anything.

Every kid at Harding needs twenty activity points a year. That means you have
to try out for sports or join clubs or other after-school activities.

No way
I was going to try out for a sport. So I signed up for the
newspaper. I thought it would be easy.

That’s because I hadn’t met Tasha yet.

Tasha treats all sixth-graders like bugs. She makes a disgusted face when a
sixth-grader walks into the room. Then she tries to step on us.

She gives all the good story assignments to eighth-graders. Do you know the
first story she asked me to write? She asked me to count the dirt patches in the
playground and write about why grass didn’t grow there.

I knew she was just trying to get me out of the office. But I wrote the story
anyway. It’s hard to write a good story about dirt patches. But I did a really
good job. My story was five pages long!

She never printed it in the paper.

When I asked her why, she said, “Who cares about dirt patches?”

My next assignment was to interview the night janitor about the differences
between working days and nights.

That one didn’t get into the paper, either.

I wanted to quit. But I really needed the activity points. If I didn’t earn twenty activity points, I couldn’t graduate from
sixth grade. I’d have to go to summer school. Really.

So I kept coming to the
Harding Herald
office two or three afternoons
a week after school, asking Tasha for more news stories to write.

“Anything for me?” I asked Melly.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Ask Tasha.”

I moved over to Tasha’s desk. Her face reflected the blue monitor as she
typed away. “Any stories for me?” I asked her.

She kept typing. She didn’t glance up. “Wait till I’m finished,” she snarled.

I backed away. I turned and saw Ms. Richards walk out of the room. Some kids
were talking by the table near the window, so I crossed over to them.

David and Wart—two of my enemies—were arguing about something. They’re
both sports reporters for the paper. They write about all the Harding games. The
rest of the time they hang around the office, making trouble.

David is tall and blond. Wart is short and lumpy and red-faced. He looks a
little like a wart!

I saw some cookies and cans of soda on the table. I tried to walk around
David and Wart to get to the drinks. But Wart stepped in front of me.

He and David both grinned. “How was your lunch, Ricky?” Wart asked.

They laughed and slapped each other a high five.

I glared at Wart. I wanted to wipe the grin off his face. “Why did you trip
me?” I could feel my face growing hot.

“I didn’t,” he lied.

David laughed.

“You did too!” I insisted. “You stuck out your foot—”

“No way,” he said. “I didn’t touch you.”

“You tripped over a crack in the floor,” David chimed in. “Or maybe it was an
air pocket.”

They both laughed.

They’re so lame.

I grabbed a can of Pepsi off the table, popped it open, and started to walk
away.

“Hey, wait—” Wart held me by the shoulder.

I spun around. “What’s your problem?”

“That’s the can I wanted,” he said.

“Too bad. Get your own,” I told him.

“No. I want that one.” He swiped at the can.

I swung my hand out of his reach.

Lost my grip. And the can went flying across the room.

It sprayed Pepsi as it flew. Then landed in the middle of Tasha’s keyboard.

She let out a squeal. Jumped up. Knocked her chair over.

I quickly grabbed up a handful of paper napkins from the table and darted
across the room.

“Don’t worry. I’ll clean it up!” I told Tasha. The keyboard was soaked. I
frantically started to mop the keys. “No—Ricky—
stop
!” Tasha shrieked.
Too late. I stared in horror at what I had done.

“Aaaaiiiiii!” Tasha opened her mouth in an angry scream. She tugged at her
red hair with both hands.

“You creep! Ricky, you creep!” she cried.

She shouldn’t call people names. But she had good reason to be angry at me.

I had erased the whole front page.

The screen glowed at us. Bright blue. Solid blue.

No words. No pictures.

“Uh… sorry,” I murmured.

“Maybe I can get it back,” Tasha told Melly. “Maybe there is a way to find it
and pull it back up.”

Tasha shoved me out of the way, picked up her chair, and sat down. “Oh!” She
let out another cry when she realized she had sat in a puddle of soda.

Staring at the solid blue screen, she began typing furiously.

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.

“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?”

“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… ?”