50 - Calling All Creeps! (3 page)

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.

“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.

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 startled 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.

On top of the camera.

“Does this mean I’m off the paper?” I asked meekly.

Tasha scowled and turned the camera over in her hands. “The lens is cracked,”
she murmured, shaking her head. “The whole camera is soaked and bent.” Her voice
trembled. “It—it’s wrecked.”

“It really wasn’t my fault,” I said softly.

She angrily blew a strand of red hair off her forehead. “You’ll pay for it!”
she cried. “You’ll pay for the camera, Ricky. If you don’t, my father will
sue
you!”

“But, Tasha—” I pleaded. “You know it wasn’t my fault!”

“Go away,” she snapped. “Just go away. Nothing is ever your fault—right?”

“Well… it wasn’t,” I insisted. “If you’d listen to me, Tasha—”

“You’re just bad news, Ricky,” she said, scowling at me again. She examined
the broken camera one more time, then dropped it onto a desk.

“You don’t take anything seriously,” she accused. “You think everything is a
goof.”

“But, Tasha—” I started to plead.

“Go away,” she said. “That was your last chance. You didn’t deserve it.
You’re just a creep. Why do you think all the kids call you Ricky Rat? Because
that’s what you are—a little rodent!”

Those words really stung.

I felt a stab of pain in my chest. I struggled to breathe.

I spun around so that Tasha couldn’t see how upset I was. And I hurried out
of the room and out of the school.

As I ran across the playground, I heard kids at the car wash singing and
laughing. They were soaping up cars, spraying them clean, having a great time.

As I passed by, I heard some kids start to chant, “Sicky Ricky, Sicky Ricky.”
And I heard some other kids laugh.

I turned my head away and kept running. I knew that by Monday, Tasha would
have told everyone about how I ruined her father’s camera.

The story would be all over school. Everyone would know how Ricky Rat had
messed up again.

Running home with Tasha’s words still in my ears, I felt more angry with each
step. I wanted to scream. I wanted to
explode!

That’s when I decided to pay Tasha back.

That’s when I decided to play a mean joke.

Creep… creep… creep…

The word repeated and repeated in my mind.

Ricky, you’re just a creep. Just a little rodent.

You’ll pay, Ricky. If you don’t, my father will SUE you!

Rodent. Rodent. Rodent.

She had no right to call me that. It wasn’t fair.

I had been so hurt, so angry. But by the time I reached home, I was smiling.
I knew what I wanted to do. I knew how I was going to take my revenge.

I had my plan all worked out in my mind.

It couldn’t fail. It couldn’t.

So, here I am.

Monday night. I sneaked into the classroom where Tasha and Ms. Richards were
working.

I gleefully typed my little message on the bottom of the front page of the
newspaper.

I knew I had to hurry. Tasha and Ms. Richards would return any second.

I listened tensely for any sound, for any sign that they were near.

I had never been so nervous in all my life. But I also had a smile on my
face.

Ricky, they all think you’re a loser. But you’re a genius! I congratulated
myself.

Only you could have dreamed up such a wonderful, nasty revenge.

Glancing up at the doorway every two seconds, I finished typing in my message
for Harding Middle School newspaper readers:

Calling All Creeps. Calling All Creeps. If you’re a real Creep, call Tasha at
555-6709 after midnight.

I read it over. It made me smile again.

I felt like jumping up and down and laughing out loud.

But I knew I couldn’t make a sound.

I stood up. Turned to the window. Started to make my escape.

Halfway to the window, I heard Tasha cough and step into the room.

I was caught.

I froze.

So close,
I thought.
So close.
The window stood only five steps
away. Five steps—and I would have been out of there.

But the five steps seemed as far as five miles now!

I shut my eyes and waited for Tasha to cry out.

Instead, I heard Ms. Richards’ voice from out in the hall. “Tasha—would
you come here for a moment?”

I opened my eyes in time to see Tasha disappear back out the door.

Had she seen me? No. No way. She would have screamed.

Whewwwwww! I let out a long sigh—and dove out the window.

I landed on my elbows and knees. Scrambled frantically to my feet. And
started running.

I didn’t even bother to close the window. Too risky, I decided.

For the third time in four days, I ran all the way home.

On Friday and Saturday I ran home a disgrace, a loser, a
creep.

Tonight I ran home a winner. A champion! A genius!

I let myself silently into the house. I could hear voices from the TV in the
den. Mom and Dad were still watching the Weather Channel.

I listened for a moment in the front hallway, catching my breath. Bad storms
in the Pacific Northwest… flood warnings…