Creature from the 7th Grade : Boy or Beast (9781101591833) (14 page)

BIG DEAL

IT IS RECESS
and I am waiting for the second-floor hallway to clear out, so I can break into Lucille's locker without anybody seeing me and then go steal Sam's nose ring.

What am I, some kind of hardened criminal? The force field of Amy Armstrong's smile is starting to weaken, and I am beginning to feel stupid.

Uh-oh. Here comes Mr. Arkady gliding down the hall toward me. He's bound to wonder why I am standing all by myself staring at Lucille's locker. I open my notebook and pretend to be working on a difficult math problem so I won't look suspicious. “If
x
is equal to the square root of pi,” I mumble, “then
y
is equal to the sum of . . .”

“Alvays studyink, Mr. Drinkvater. Mark my vurds. You vill go far.” Yeah, straight to the penitentiary if I keep this up. He glides into the teachers' lounge.

The second he is out of sight I start picking Lucille's lock with my claw. I've got to get this over with quickly and get out of here.

I can't get the door open. It's stuck. I make a lousy criminal.

Uh-oh. More footsteps. I spot Craig Dieterly at the other end of the hall, approaching Principal Muchnick's office. He's wearing leather riding boots and a black hooded overcoat. His face is covered by a white skeleton mask, and he carries a large plastic scythe. He's the grim reaper. Like he didn't already scare me enough when he was just plain old Craig Dieterly.

I try to flatten myself against the wall behind a row of lockers. My tail sticks out, and so does my big, round belly. But Dieterly is far too intent on breaking into Principal Muchnick's office to notice me.

He takes out a paper clip and fiddles with the lock. In a minute the door swings open, and he slips into the office like a professional cat burglar. He makes a much better criminal than I do.

What in the world is Craig Dieterly doing breaking and entering on school property?

It isn't until I see him sneaking out again a minute later with a thick manila file under his arm that it dawns on me: he's got my transcript in there. My whole life reduced to a few dozen pages of cold hard facts—my grades; Dr. Craverly's psychological evaluation; my teachers' reports; and . . . just shoot me now and be done with it . . . my entire, legal signature. Charles
ELMER
Drinkwater.

If Craig Dieterly tells everyone my dreaded middle name, I will never ever get to be a Bandito. Period. End of sentence.
Finito.

Just then Sam and Lucille come running up to Craig Dieterly. “We've been watching you,” Sam says. “We saw you break into that office.”

“Out of my way, Fat Face,” he says.

“What are you doing with Charlie's transcript, Dieterly?” Lucille asks.

“I'm going to find his middle name in there, and when I do I will tell every single person I can find. And if anyone was even
thinking
of talking to him. Or hanging out with him. Or becoming friends with him. They won't anymore.” Craig Dieterly chuckles ominously. “Now move it or lose it.”

“We're telling Principal Muchnick on you,” Sam says.

“You do and you're toast,” Craig Dieterly says.

“That's our friend's private property,” Lucille says. “You won't get away with this!”

And then she and Sam grab Craig Dieterly by the arm and try to stop him from going up the stairs. But he just flicks them aside like ants and runs for the stairs.

All of a sudden it hits me like a ton of bricks, and I come crashing to my senses. Like when Sleeping Beauty wakes up after the prince kisses her. Only I am not Sleeping Beauty. And if a prince ever kisses me I will bop him on the head with my tail.

What have I been thinking? My two best friends are willing to risk the wrath of Craig Dieterly for me, and here I am about to steal their stuff so I can be a member of a clique that they're not even allowed to join? I must have been out of my mind. How low can a mutant dinosaur sink?

I hurry over and help Sam and Lucille up. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. We're fine,” Lucille says as she rearranges her meter maid costume. “Let's get out of here, Sam.”

“I saw what you did, guys,” I start. “And it was—”

“We didn't know you were watching,” Sam interrupts. “C'mon, Lucille.”

“It was awesome,” I say.

“No big whup,” Lucille says.

“Common courtesy,” Sam says. “No more, no less.” My two friends start to leave.

“Hold your horses, guys,” I say. “You came to my rescue after I treated you like used belly button lint. You are the best and truest friends a creature could ever have. Even if you never forgive me, I want you to know that I am deeply sorry for the way I treated you. And I apologize. I have been acting like a complete and total idiot.”

“You most certainly have,” Sam says.

“You know, turning into a creature is one thing, Charlie,” Lucille says. “But forgetting who your real friends are is quite another.”

“You're right,” I say.

“Of course she's right, you knucklehead!” Sam exclaims. “And don't you ever do it again. Now don't just stand there twiddling your claws, pal, you go after Dieterly and we'll find Principal Muchnick.”

“Roger, wilco, over and out!” I run off to find Craig Dieterly. I am so relieved to have my best friends back you couldn't wipe the smile off my face if you tried. If I had a face. And a mouth. And lips.

“He's nothing but a two-faced, backstabbing, troublemaking, no-good lizard,” Rachel Klempner says. She's standing in the middle of the pumpkin patch in the lobby, surrounded by cornstalks and crows. She's talking to Amy Armstrong and holding hands with Larry Wykoff. The two lovebirds have finally patched it up.

I should have known: Larry Wykoff blackballed me because Rachel Klempner made him. When she sees me she doesn't even skip a beat. “Great to see you, Charlie. Happy Halloween.”

“Where's Dieterly?” I brush the fake cobwebs from my hat.

“What are you supposed to be, Drinkwater, an accountant or something?” Craig Dieterly says. He emerges from behind a large tombstone. I see my folder under his arm. I hope he hasn't opened it yet.

“A human being,” I reply. “Which is more than I can say for you.”

“Prepare to get squashed, Big Bug,” Craig Dieterly snarls. He puts down his scythe and rolls up his sleeves. Ghosts moan and chains clank over the PA system.

I tap Amy Armstrong gently on the shoulder with my claw. “What's up?” she asks.

Dirk and Dack Schlissel, in their twin gondolier costumes, and Alice Pincus, in her Little Miss Muffet outfit come by to see what's going on. So does Norm Swerling. He looks just like Harry Potter.

“I've decided not to take you up on your generous offer, Amy,” I say.

“What!” Amy Armstrong exclaims.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I reply. “I don't really want to be a Bandito after all.” Mr. Arkady was right. If you get a bunch of fools to like you, what do you really have?

“You ungrateful little nothing!” Amy fumes.

“Batten down your hatches, Smelly Reptile Guy,” Craig Dieterly growls. “There's a big storm heading your way. And I'm not talking about the weather.” He starts flexing his muscles and walking slowly toward me. A bunch of middle-schoolers dressed like witches and goblins come over to watch.

Sam and Lucille run in breathlessly. “Principal Muchnick says he'll be here in a minute,” Sam pants.

“Are you telling me you'd rather be friends with a couple of terminal losers?” Amy shrieks.

“Sam and Lucille aren't terminal losers. They're my best friends,” I say. “They're better and smarter and nicer than all of you Banditoes and One-Upsters put together.” The crowd murmurs excitedly. Sam and Lucille are beaming.

“I must have been out of my mind when I brought you up for membership!” Amy Armstrong exclaims. “You're the same old forgettable Charlie Drinkwater you always were. Only now you have webbed feet and a tail. You couldn't be a Bandito if your life depended on it.”

“I'm glad, because if the earth was about to explode and the only spaceship capable of interplanetary travel was evacuating in five minutes and Banditoes were on it, I wouldn't even buy a ticket.”

Sam and Lucille look at me, brimming with pride, and I look gratefully back at them, until I notice Craig Dieterly closing in on me like an armed tank on a mission.

“Take it back right now, Mothra, or prepare to meet your maker.” Craig flicks me on the side of my big green head with his finger.

“I really wish you wouldn't do that,” I say. “Fighting doesn't solve anything.”

“Yeah, but it's so much fun,” Craig Dieterly replies. “Listen up, Slimola: first I am going to tear you into little pieces. And then when you are squirming on the ground and begging for mercy, I will hit you with your middle name. A blow from which you will never recover.” Craig Dieterly grabs my shirt in his fist and pulls me toward him, twisting my collar so tightly I can barely breathe. “Don't you ever say bad things about me and my friends again. Understand?”

“Yes,” I whisper hoarsely.

“I can't hear you,” he says.

“That's because . . . you're . . . choking me,” I gasp. He lets go of my shirt and I stagger back against a papier-mâché ghost standing in front of a large mausoleum.

“Apologize. Now. Say you didn't mean it, Drinkwater.” He pulls back his brawny arm and prepares to punch me in the snout. “Or else.”

Mom's wish is coming true. I am having a very frightening day. This is one Halloween I will never forget.

“I won't take it back!” I exclaim. “I meant what I said. And you can hit me as hard as you want to, I'll still mean it. Banditoes and One-Upsters are nasty and boring and selfish. I'm glad I'm not like you.” The words are out of my mouth before I even realize what I am saying. I couldn't stop myself if I tried.

“Take that!” I close my eyes and swing my powerful claw as hard as I can in Craig Dieterly's direction and miss him completely. Instead, I catch on to the side of his shirt and rip it in two places.

Now I've really done it. Not only will Dieterly cream me, Principal Muchnick will suspend me quicker than you can say “mutant dinosaurs attacking their fellow students on school property is so against the rules it isn't funny.” Forget Harvard. I wouldn't even get into Southern Illinois Vocational at this point.

Craig Dieterly turns red and his neck starts to bulge out like someone is pumping helium into it. You can practically see the steam coming out of his ears. “You hit me. I have witnesses. Now you've really done it, Shrimpboats!” he shouts. “Stand back, everyone!”

I cringe and close my hooded eyelids tightly. I bury my head in my claws. Suddenly a voice cries “
STOP!!!
” I look up and see Dave racing up the stairs like Superman. “Don't lay a hand on my little brother,” he shouts, “or you'll have me to deal with, Dieterly!”

Craig Dieterly takes one look at my brother and puts his arm down immediately. “Charlie and I were just horsing around.”

“It didn't look like horsing around to me.” Dave comes over and puts an arm on my shoulder. “I came over to apologize to you, Charlie. Looks like I got here just in the nick of time. Are you all right?”

“Thanks to you,” I say gratefully.

“You don't have to thank me, Charlie,” Dave says. “That's what big brothers are for. Dad set me straight this morning. He's says I've been so busy thinking about myself I didn't even consider what this week must have been like for you. He's right, Charlie. I'm really sorry. I've been acting like a selfish idiot.”

“I'm pretty familiar with that sort of thing myself,” I say.

Principal Muchnick pushes his way through rows of cornstalks as he storms into the lobby. He hits his head on a hanging crow. He doesn't look happy.