50 - Calling All Creeps! (4 page)

A few weeks ago, I tried to get Mom and Dad to switch channels to MTV. But
they hated MTV because it never gave the weather.

I felt so happy, so excited. I wanted to rush into the den and tell them
about my great joke.

But, of course, I couldn’t do that.

Instead, I made my way silently up to my room and closed the door.

Who could I call? I
had
to call someone. I had to share my little
secret with someone. But who?

Iris.

Yes. Iris. She would appreciate it. Iris would understand.

My heart pounding, I reached for my phone. It took me a while to remember
Iris’ last name. I had only heard it once. Chandler? Candle? Candler. Yes. Iris
Candler.

I got the phone number from information and called her. The phone rang once. Twice. Iris picked it up after the third
ring.

We both said hello. She sounded surprised to hear from me.

“Guess where I went tonight?” I asked her. But I didn’t wait for her to
guess. I blurted out the whole story. It all just burst out of me. I don’t think
I took a breath!

“Is that great or what?” I demanded when I had told her every detail. I
laughed. “The paper comes out tomorrow,” I said. “Tasha won’t be sleeping much
tomorrow night. She’ll be getting calls all night from every kid in school!”

I waited for Iris to laugh. But I heard only a long silence on her end of the
line.

“Don’t you think it’s funny?” I asked finally.

“Kind of,” she replied. “But I have a bad feeling about it, Ricky. A very bad
feeling.”

“Iris, it’s just a joke,” I told her. “What could go wrong?”

When I arrived at school the next morning, guess who I saw first.

You’re right. Tasha.

She turned her nose up as if she smelled rotten fish. Then she hurried past
me without saying a word.

I didn’t care. I thought about my little surprise for Tasha on the bottom of
the
Herald’s
front page. I knew it would keep me smiling all day.

Believe me, I needed something to smile about.

As I turned the corner to go to my locker, Josh and Greg, two kids from my
class, deliberately bumped into me. “Ricky, stop bumping into me,” Josh said.

Greg bumped me again. Then he pushed me into Josh.

“Hey—give me a break! I
said
stop bumping into me!” Josh cried.

“Get a life,” I muttered. I dodged away from them.

They walked off laughing, bumping each other from one side of the hall to the
other.

Funny guys, huh? About as funny as a broken arm.

I pulled open my locker and started unloading books from my backpack.

“Hey, Ricky—want to wash my dad’s car?” a kid named Tony shouted from
across the hall.

I had my head in my locker. I didn’t look around.

I heard kids laughing at Tony’s hilarious joke.

“Hey, Ricky—want to wash something?” Tony called. “Wash your face!”

What a joker.

Everyone laughed again.

I slammed my locker door and walked past them without saying a word. This is
all Tasha’s fault, I told myself. But I’m going to have the last laugh tonight.

I turned the corner and headed to class. I saw Brenda and Wart at the water
fountain against the wall. I tried to run past them. But I wasn’t fast enough.

Brenda pressed her hand over the fountain—and shot a spray of cold water
onto the front of my shirt.

“Have a squirt—Squirt!” Wart called.

Big laughter, up and down the hall.

“My dad is
suing
you for wrecking his car!”

Wart called. “He’s suing your family for every penny they’ve got!”

“Tell him to get in line,” I muttered under my breath.

“Ricky Rat! Ricky Rat!” someone chanted.

Welcome to “Pick on Ricky Day” at Harding Middle School.

Unfortunately,
every
day is “Pick on Ricky Day.”

But today I didn’t care. Today I knew I’d end up a winner.

Today the joke was on Tasha. The student newspaper would be handed out this
afternoon. And Tasha would be up all night, answering phone calls.

Sweet, sweet revenge was mine.

That night I had to go out for dinner with my parents and my cousins who live
across town. Mom and Dad didn’t bring me home until nine thirty, and I had about
two hours of homework to do.

So I didn’t tuck myself into bed until nearly twelve—very late for a school
night.

I just started to drift off to sleep when the phone beside my bed rang.

I squinted at my clock radio—two minutes until twelve.

“Now who would call this late?” I asked myself.

I fumbled for the phone in the dark. Knocked it off the bed table. It
clattered loudly onto the floor.

I dove out of bed and grabbed the receiver. Then I hunched on my knees,
listening for Mom and Dad. Did they hear the phone ring? I’m not allowed to get
calls after ten o’clock.

I cleared my throat and raised the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Ricky—it’s me. Iris.”

I glanced at my clock radio again. “Iris? It’s midnight. How come you’re
calling so late?” I asked. “Are you okay?”

“My father was on the phone practically the whole night. Ricky—did you see
the school paper?” she demanded in an urgent whisper.

“Huh? No,” I replied, climbing onto the edge of my bed. “When they started to
pass out the newspapers, I got called to the library. The librarian wanted to
ask me about a bunch of books I lost. When I came back to the room, all the papers were gone.”

“So you didn’t see the paper?” Iris asked shrilly.

“No,” I repeated. “I didn’t get my copy. Is it great? Can you read the
message at the bottom okay?”

“Well…” Iris hesitated.

“Is it great?” I asked excitedly.

“Not exactly,” Iris replied softly. “Actually, Ricky, you’re in… major
trouble.”

“I’m what?” I squeezed the phone to my ear. She was talking so softly, I
could barely hear her. “Iris… I’m
what
?”

“In major trouble,” she repeated.

A chill swept down my back. “Major trouble? But—why, Iris? What do you
m-mean?” I sputtered.

“The message—” she started.

Then she stopped. Silence on the other end.

“Iris—I can’t hear you!” I said. “Iris—?”

“Uh-oh,” she murmured. “I’ve got to get off. My dad is screaming at me.”

“But, Iris—” I insisted. “Why am I in trouble? You’ve
got
to tell
me!”

“I’m getting off!”
I heard her call to her father.
“It was only a
short call, Dad. I know it’s midnight!”

“Iris, please—tell me. Tell me before you hang up!” I begged.

“Got to go. Bye,” she said. I heard a click. The line went dead.

I slammed the receiver down angrily. What was her problem? Why couldn’t she
tell me why I was in trouble?

I slid the phone back in place beside the clock radio and climbed into bed. I
punched my pillow a few times, puffing it up. Then I pulled the blankets up to
my chin.

I shut my eyes and tried to calm down enough to fall asleep.

The phone rang again.

I sat straight up with a startled gasp. This time I managed to pick up the
phone without knocking it to the floor.

“Iris, thanks for calling me back,” I whispered.

“I saw your message in the school newspaper,” a voice whispered.

“Iris—?” I swallowed hard. I knew it wasn’t Iris.

“I saw your message,” the voice whispered. “I am calling as you instructed.”

“Huh? You’re calling me?” I cried.

“Yes. I’m following your instructions,” came the whispered reply.

“Hey—who
is
this?” I demanded.

“I’m a Creep.”

I slammed down the phone.

Then I settled back into my bed. I puffed up my pillows again, and pulled the
blanket over my shoulders.

The wind howled outside my bedroom window. Shadows cast by the street lamp in
front of our house danced over my wall.

My brain was spinning.

Who
was
that?

I couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like a boy. Why did he call
me
? The
message I put in the newspaper gave
Tasha’s
phone number.

I didn’t have long to think about it. The phone rang again.

I grabbed up the receiver before the first ring ended. My eyes shot to the
bedroom door. If Mom or Dad heard me getting these calls, I’d
really
be
in major trouble!

“Hello? Who is it?” I demanded.

“Hi. I’m a Creep.” A different voice. A boy. Speaking softly.

“Huh?” I gasped.

“I’m a Creep. I called as soon as I saw your orders.”

“Give me a break!” I cried. I slammed down the phone.

“What is going on?” I muttered out loud. I sat staring at the phone. Watching
it in the dim light. Waiting.

Was it going to ring again?

“Ricky—!” a voice boomed.

I jumped a mile.

The ceiling light clicked on. Dad stood in the doorway in his blue-and-white
striped pajamas. He scratched his cheek. “Ricky—what are all those calls
about?” he demanded.

I shrugged. “Calls?”

He narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously. “I heard the phone ring three
times,” he growled.

“Oh. You mean
those
calls!” I tried to sound innocent. But I knew I
didn’t stand a chance.

“You know you’re not allowed to get calls after ten,” Dad said sharply. He
yawned. “It is after midnight. Now
who
is calling so late?”

“It’s some kind of a joke,” I told him. “You know. Kids from school.”

He brushed his sandy hair off his forehead. “I don’t think it’s funny,” he
said.

I lowered my head. “I know. But it isn’t my fault—”

He raised a hand to silence me. “Tell your friends to stop,” he said. “I mean
it. If they keep calling so late, I’ll have to take your phone away.”

“I’ll tell them,” I promised.

I’d tell them to stop,
I thought,
if I knew who they were!

Dad yawned again. He has the loudest yawn in the world. It sounds more like a
roar.

When he finished yawning, he clicked off the light and disappeared back to
his room.

As soon as he left, the phone rang again.

“Please—” I started.

“I’m a Creep,” a whispered voice told me. A girl this time. “I saw your
message. I’m ready. Ready to plant. Ready to rule. When will the Creeps meet?”

“Huh? Meet?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I hung up the phone.

Staring at the phone, I felt totally confused.

Why am
I
getting all these calls? I wondered.

Is there some kind of a mix-up?

And why are the calls so strange? Why did that girl say she’s ready to plant?
Ready to rule?

What is going on?

The phone rang again…

The next morning, I dragged myself to school. The phone hadn’t stopped
ringing until two in the morning. That’s when I took it off the hook. I spent
the rest of the night twisting and turning, thinking about all the weird calls.

I didn’t fall asleep until seven. Which is the time my alarm goes off to wake
me up!

At breakfast, my head nearly dropped into my corn flakes. I just wanted to go
back to bed. But Mom and Dad didn’t feel sorry for me at all.

They were furious. The ringing phone had kept them awake too.

“You tell those kids not to call again,” Mom warned. “Or else I’ll go in to
your school and tell them myself!”

“No—please!” I begged. “I’ll tell them. I’ll tell them this morning! They
won’t call again. I promise!”

Can you think of anything more embarrassing than having your mom come to school, barge into your classroom, and lecture
the kids in your class?

They already make fun of me every day and call me “Sicky Ricky.” Can you
imagine
what they would call me if my mom came to school and yelled at them
all?

Whoa!

Just thinking about it gave me icy chills.

It took all my strength to pull myself to school and slump through the
crowded hall to my locker.

“There you are!” Iris cried.

I saw her waiting across from my locker. She wore a loose plaid shirt over
navy blue corduroy pants. Her long plastic earrings jangled softly.

She had been leaning against the tile wall. Now she pushed through a group of
girls to get to me. “Here, Ricky. Take a look.”

She handed me the latest copy of the
Harding Herald.
I grabbed it
eagerly and lowered my eyes to the bottom of the front page.

Yes. There it was. In tiny type across the whole bottom margin. My message.

Except it had been changed a little.

I moved my lips, reading it softly to myself:

“Calling All Creeps. Calling All Creeps. If you’re a real Creep, call Ricky
after midnight.”
Then it gave my phone number.

My
phone number. Not Tasha’s.

My name and number.

I let out a low moan and weakly handed the paper back to Iris.

She shook her head and tsk-tsked. “You look terrible. Did you get any sleep
at all?” she asked.

“No,” I murmured.

I grabbed the newspaper back and read it again. “How did this happen?” I
cried.

Tasha’s grinning face flashed into my mind.

“Tasha!” I screamed her name. And then I took off, pushing my way through
groups of kids, hurtling over someone’s backpack.

I ran down the long, curving hall to the eighth-grade classrooms. And burst
into Tasha’s room just as the early bell rang.

My eyes frantically swept the room. I spotted her near the front, handing a
notebook to another girl.

“Tasha—” I called, running up to her. I waved the newspaper in her face. “I—I—” I sputtered breathlessly.

She tossed back her red curls and laughed. “I caught your little joke just in
time,” she said. “Did you get any calls last night, Ricky?”