by R. L. Stine
All four of them flicked out their long, bumpy tongues and slapped each other’s tongues, as if slapping high fives.
I took a deep breath. My legs felt so weak, I thought I might fall to the ground. “I—I have to go now,” I stammered.
In her purple fingers, Brenda raised the bag of seeds in front of my face. “Only one week left, Commander,” she said. “How will we plant them inside the students? We have waited so long for you. Do you have a plan?”
“Yes. My plan is to get out of here—now!” I replied.
I turned to leave. But they had me surrounded. Their wet eyes studied me. Their purple chests heaved noisily in and out. The bumps on their skin quivered.
Wart made a little bow, like a servant. “But if you leave, Commander, when will the Creeps meet again?” he asked softly.
“Yes. We must meet again soon. We must make a plan,” David added solemnly.
“Before the week is out, every student at Harding Middle School must eat an Identity Seed,” Brenda declared.
The others nodded.
“The Creeps will rule,” Wart said softly. “The student humans will all become Creeps!”
Their tongues flicked out again and slapped each other in a four-tongued high five.
I’ve got to get away from them—now! I told myself.
I’ve got to report them. I’ve got to tell someone at school who they are—and what they’re planning to do.
But—how?
19
I decided to play along with them. To stall. To act as serious as they were.
If they figure out that I’m not their Commander, they’ll do something horrible to me! I realized.
I pictured the squirrel tail sliding down Wart’s throat.
And I started to gag.
How can I get away from them? I wondered.
As soon as I escaped, I could report them to someone—to anyone who would listen!
“Brenda, let me see those seeds,” I said, trying to sound as if I were giving an order. My voice came out strong and steady. But my hand trembled as I reached for the bag.
I took the bag and carefully unwrapped the twist-tie on top. Then I raised the bag to my face, studied the seeds for a long time, and took a deep sniff.
No. Definitely not chocolate chips.
The seeds had a faintly sour smell. Not terrible. But not sweet or chocolatey either.
“One for each kid,” I murmured, eyeing them carefully. “One seed for each.”
The four Creeps nodded their purple heads. “At least one for each student,” Brenda said. “That’s all it will take to turn them all into Creeps.” She snapped her long rows of jagged teeth.
It’s not going to happen, I decided.
No way.
I’m not going to let it happen. I’m going to get help. I’m going to stop them.
But first I had to get out of the woods.
“Well, we Creeps will meet again soon,” I said. I handed the seed bag back to Brenda. “We must all think of the best plan. And then we will call each other, and pick a good time, and meet again.”
I turned and took two steps toward the street.
That’s as far as I got.
Wart’s long, bumpy tongue wrapped around my neck. He turned me around by pulling in his tongue. “But, Commander—I have a good plan!” he declared.
“Good,” I said, trying not to gag again. I could still feel the wet, bumpy tongue on my skin. “We will meet soon and talk about your plan.”
“No—now!” Wart insisted. “Commander, we must talk now. We can put my plan into action tomorrow morning!”
“Huh? Tomorrow?” I gasped. “I think we’d better wait a day,” I started. “You see, if we all wait—”
They eyed me suspiciously. Their purple jaws opened and closed.
I turned back to Wart. “What’s your plan?”
He took a deep, wheezing breath and began. “Tomorrow morning, we get to school very early. The lunchroom cooks all arrive early. They prepare lunch first thing in the morning.”
“Yes. That gives the chocolate pudding plenty of time for the crust to harden!” I joked.
No one laughed.
“I’ve been studying the kitchen carefully,” Wart continued. “After the cooks set out the food in the morning, they take a ten-minute break. That’s our chance. If we sneak in during their break, we can plant the seeds in the lunchroom food.”
“Everyone eats in the lunchroom. It’s a school rule,” David chimed in. “So every student will eat at least one seed.”
“And by nighttime, they will no longer be humans. They will all be Creeps like us,” Jared added.
“What do you think of my plan? Will it work?” Wart asked.
They all stared at me, waiting for my answer.
“The plan sounds pretty good,” I said finally. I rubbed my chin, pretended I was thinking hard about it. “I will talk to you all tomorrow and let you know my decision.”
Their lizardy faces drooped with disappointment. “Tomorrow?” Wart cried unhappily. “But we could do it tomorrow morning, Commander. We could plant the seeds, and by tomorrow night—”
I raised a hand to cut him off. “Tomorrow,” I said firmly.
They were still grumbling to each other as I turned and hurried away. I expected one of them to grab me and pull me back. But this time, they let me go.
I edged through an opening in the evergreen shrubs. Then I started to jog. Between the bare, trembling trees. Across the street. And down the block toward my house.
What am I going to do? I asked myself as I ran.
I can’t let them turn everyone in school into Creeps. I can’t let them drop their Identity Seeds in the lunchroom food.
But how can I stop them?
If I tell them not to do it, they will figure out that I’m not their Commander. They will figure out that they made a mistake.
And then what? What will they do to me if they find out I’m not a Creep? Will they gobble me up the way Wart swallowed that poor squirrel?
My side started to ache, but I kept running. I pictured all the kids in my school turning into bumpy, purple lizard creatures. I pictured them all in the woods, grabbing squirrels and swallowing them whole.
I pictured us all slouching around, slapping high fives with our tongues.
Yuck!
“What am I going to do?” I asked myself out loud.
I was the only one who knew about the Creeps—and the only one who could stop them.
And I had to act fast.
20
“Pass the mashed potatoes,” Dad said with a mouthful of chicken. “And the biscuits, please.”
I passed the food down the table. I took another drumstick from the bucket. Mom and Dad both work hard, so they don’t have time to cook. They usually pick up something on the way home. Tonight it was a fried chicken bucket, with a bunch of side dishes.
They are always starving when they get home. There’s no point in talking to them until they’ve finished their first helping. They can’t even hear you over the sound of their chewing!
I really wasn’t hungry. My stomach felt as if it were tied in tight knots. I kept staring at the chicken and picturing squirrel.
I waited until most of the chicken had been gobbled up. Then I took a deep breath and started my story.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” I said softly.
They both raised their eyes from their plates. Dad had a swirl of mashed potatoes on his cheek. Mom reached over and brushed it off with her fingers.
“Are you in trouble at school again, Ricky?” she asked sternly. “Have the kids been picking on you?”
“No. That’s not it,” I replied quickly. “I have to tell you something. I mean, I need your help. You see—these four kids—”
“Take a deep breath,” Dad said. “Start at the beginning.”
“Calm down,” Mom added. “What’s gotten you so wired?”
“Please—let me tell it!”
I cried.
They both settled back and lowered their forks to the table.
“These four kids,” I started again. “They’re not really kids. I thought they were seventh-graders. But they’re not. They’re Creeps. They’re not kids at all. I mean, they’re new to the school. I never saw them before this year. But I thought…”
Mom and Dad exchanged glances. Dad opened his mouth to say something—then changed his mind.
“They came here with a mission,” I told them. “They want to turn all the kids in school into Creeps. They have these Identity Seeds, a big bag of them. They’re going to feed the seeds to all the kids.”
I ran out of air. I hadn’t taken a breath. I took a long one now, and continued my story.
“They think I’m a Creep, too. They think I’m their Commander. Because of a message I typed on the bottom of the school newspaper. They want me to help them turn all the kids into Creeps. Horrible monsters!”
I took another breath. I was so excited, so nervous, I felt as if my heart had jumped to my throat.
I leaned across the table and stared first at Mom, then at Dad. “We have to stop them!” I cried. “You have to help me. We can’t let them turn everyone into Creeps. But what can we do? How can we let people know that they’re not really kids? How can we stop them? You’ve got to help me. You’ve got to!”
I let out a long whoosh of air and dropped against the back of the chair. I struggled to slow down my racing heart.
My parents glanced at each other again. I could see the troubled expressions on their faces.
Dad was the first to speak. “Ricky,” he said softly, “your mom and I are Creeps too.”
21
I gasped and nearly tumbled off my chair.
Mom and Dad burst out laughing.
“No. Actually we’re Martians!” Dad declared.
“No way. We’re not Martians,” Mom argued. “We’re werewolves!” She picked up a chicken bone and pretended to chomp on it like a wolf.
“We’re Martian werewolves!” Dad cried. He tossed back his head and howled like a wolf.
Then they both laughed loudly again. They really thought they were a riot.
“You’ve got to take me seriously!” I pleaded.
For some reason, that made them laugh even harder. Dad actually had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. He raised his napkin and dabbed at his eyes.
“Ricky, sometimes you come up with the greatest things,” he said. He reached over and slapped my shoulder.
“What an imagination,” Mom commented. She shook her head. “You really should write that story down, Ricky. It could win a prize.”
“But it isn’t a story!” I cried. I jumped to my feet and angrily tossed my napkin onto my plate. “Why don’t you believe me?”
“Oh, we believe you—Commander!” Dad exclaimed. “Commander of the Creeps!”
They both burst out laughing again.
I uttered an angry cry, turned, and stomped out of the dining room. I could still hear them laughing as I stormed up the stairs to my bedroom.
I slammed the door behind me. And shook my fists in the air.
I had to find some help. I had to make someone believe me.
I slumped onto my bed and just sat there for a long while, staring at the darkness outside the window. I waited for my heart to stop racing, for my mind to calm down.
But I couldn’t get calm. My whole body tingled. My brain spun.
I grabbed the phone off my bedtable and punched in Iris’ number. Iris will listen to me, I told myself. Iris will know I’m not making up a wild story.
The phone rang three times. Four. Five.
No one home?
“Come on, Iris!” I begged into the ringing receiver. “Be there!”
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?
22
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 g
oing 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.
