The Misadventures of Max Crumbly 1

by Rachel Renée Russell

  Like, for example, the whole superpower thing.

  Unfortunately, my uncanny, almost superhuman ability to smell pizza from a block away won’t save any lives.

  And the double-jointed, extra-long claw-like TOES I inherited from my father won’t help me stop a criminal dead in his tracks. Although, weird toes could be invaluable in helping a wannabe-superhero-in-training scavenge for food. HOW?

  I simply place my claw-like toes in my older sister Megan’s bowl of popcorn and ask innocently . . .

  ME, SCAVENGING FOR FOOD WITH MY SUPERHUMAN CLAW-LIKE TOES (WHILE TRAUMATIZING MY SISTER)!

  This will effectively gross her out SO badly that she’ll shriek, roll her eyes at me, and angrily stomp off to her bedroom to call her “BFF” and rant about how much she HATES MY GUTS!

  Basically leaving said bowl of hot, buttery popcorn unattended for MY eating pleasure. YUM!!

  The other major headache is putting together a cool superhero costume that makes evil villains tremble in their boots at the mere sight of you. . . .

  ** SUPERHERO COSTUME DON’TS **

  1. DON’T buy one of those cheap kiddie costumes that you can get on clearance at your local dollar store the week AFTER Halloween.

  No one will take you seriously as Super Ghost if you’re wearing a white plastic tablecloth with big green eyeballs on it and a red sticker on your chest that says CLEARANCE! ALL SALES FINAL!

  2. DON’T let your MOM make you a “supercute” homemade costume. Especially if it includes glitter, feathers, fake diamonds, more glitter, sequins, the color pink, even more glitter, and/or platform boots.

  Also, absolutely REFUSE to let her talk you into calling yourself Super Glittery Guy because the costume she made you is “totally FIERCE”!

  3. DON’T recycle one of your tacky OLD Halloween costumes. EVER! Always remember! Recycling is for cans and plastic bottles. NOT superhero costumes.

  Unfortunately, I learned Rule #3 the hard way.

  My grandma spent two months sewing me an authentic costume of an iconic hero that was adored by her and millions of fans around the world back in 1964. He was known for performing superhuman moves never before seen by mankind.

  I STILL have very traumatic recurring nightmares about that costume. . . .

  ME, IN MY RECYCLED ELVIS SUPERHERO COSTUME, POWER ROCKING WITH MY MIGHTY MICROPHONE OF DOOM!!

  WARNING!! Never forget that superheroes are SUPER sensitive about their costumes.

  Do you have any idea how many people have actually DIED after DISSING a superhero’s costume?!

  Approximately seven citizens and nineteen villains.

  Electrostatic Man actually ZAPPED his OWN MOTHER with 10,000 watts after she accidentally called his ultra-thin nylon protective leg gear . . .

  PANTYHOSE!!

  Of course, everyone in the superhero world was shocked, appalled, and outraged when they heard what had happened.

  That heinous act was cruel and disrespectful on so many levels.

  The good news is that Electrostatic Man’s MOTHER won’t EVER make THAT stupid mistake again!

  6. YES, BAT KID IS MY LITTLE BROTHER!

  Okay, I love my grandma as much as the next kid.

  But I’m really desperate to make this public school thing work! HOW desperate am I?

  So desperate that I sold part of my priceless comic book collection and bought some new clothes for the first day of school.

  I’d heard over and over again that in middle school, IMAGE is everything!

  So I decided I was going to be the most WICKED, FRESH, FLY, DOPE (and all those other slang words that won’t even be cool anymore by the time you read this) dude at my school!

  Don’t get me wrong! It WASN’T a makeover. It was more like a virtual software update to make me BETTER!

  Meet MAXWELL CRUMBLY 2.0! The REMIX!! . . .

  You have NO IDEA how hard it is to be a trendsetter in an UNCOOL family like mine. First of all, my EVIL sister kept swiping my visor and sunglasses. . . .

  Then my MOM borrowed my gold chain to wear to her best friend’s birthday party. . . .

  Then there was that little problem with my dad. . . .

  Okay, I KNOW my new pants were five sizes too BIG.

  But they’re SUPPOSED to be baggy!

  I was like, “Dad, you’re kidding me! Right?!”

  A father and son sharing pants?!

  Sorry! But that’s just . . . WRONG on so many levels!

  The final straw was my little brother, Oliver.

  I saved up my own money for an entire year and finally managed to buy a pair of AIR JORDAN sneakers!

  I totally lost it got really annoyed when the little brat trashed them with a permanent black marker!!!

  Apparently, Oliver is just starting to learn his ABCs. But he obviously DOESN’T quite have the hang of it yet. . . .

  Is it just me, or are all those frowny faces Oliver drew on my shoes possibly a sign of some underlying emotional problem that will manifest itself during his teen years?

  I think our pastor is a little worried about him too. Like me, Oliver is into superheroes. But he’s taken it A LOT further than I EVER did! . . .

  “SO, DO WE HAVE ANY VISITORS TODAY? UM . . . OKAY, I SEE WE HAVE ONE . . . !”

  Of course, all the kids (and a few of the dads) were really excited to see what they thought was a real, live superhero sitting in the front row.

  So when the service was over, there was actually a line of fans wanting to take selfies with Oliver.

  Sorry, but it’s NOT easy being BAT KID’s brother!

  Anyway, by the time the first day of school rolled around, I just wasn’t feeling those new clothes anymore.

  But can you blame me? My family had taken all the COOLNESS out of my back-to-school style. And completely KILLED IT!

  I was so FRUSTRATED with the whole situation that I just DUMPED them in one of those clothing bins at the local Goodwill.

  THEM meaning my clothes!

  NOT my FAMILY! . . .

  ME, DONATING MY CLOTHES TO THE LESS FORTUNATE

  Although, to be honest, I was so TICKED OFF at my family that I seriously considered dumping THEM into that clothing bin too. . . .

  ME, DONATING MY FAMILY TO WHOEVER WILL TAKE THEM!

  Maybe one day I’ll try wearing some hip-hop gear again.

  But it’s definitely going to be AFTER I put a dead bolt lock on my bedroom door.

  Hey, I love my family as much as the next guy.

  And by “love,” I mean that 49% of the time I DON’T want to punch them in the face.

  But don’t get it twisted!

  I’m just NOT into sharing my pants and stuff with them.

  Sorry, that’s just too . . . WEIRD!!

  7. SIPPIN’ PRUNE JUICE FROM A RED PLASTIC CUP

  I had pretty much forgotten that I’d donated my new school clothes to charity. But about a week later my mom made me take Oliver to the local park to play.

  And while he was having fun, I decided to find a park bench and finish reading my latest comic book.

  I totally FREAKED when I saw this old guy chilling out with a cup of prune juice. Because guess what he was wearing?

  MY brand-new school clothes!!

  That dude looked like an eighty-three-year-old Eminem.

  I think the pigeons were a little freaked out too, because a half dozen of them had gathered around and were just staring at the guy like he was a giant piece of birdseed or something. . . .

  ME AND THE PIGEONS ARE FREAKED OUT TO SEE AN OLD DUDE WEARING MY NEW SCHOOL CLOTHES!

  Although all of this was a little traumatic for me, it was also kind of inspiring. It felt good that someone seemed happy to be wearing my school clothes. Well, someone other than my OWN family members!

  When I got home, I wrote a very cool rap about what it would be like if I were an elderly old-school rapper. It’s actually the BEST material I’ve ever written. . . .

  ***************************

 
; SIPPIN’ PRUNE JUICE FROM A RED PLASTIC CUP (THE SUPER-COOL RAPPER OLD MAX C.)

  Mic check! Mic check!

  Yo! 1-2-3!

  The best rapper in the world

  is Old Max C.!

  Spittin’ rhymes and rockin’,

  just tryin’ to get paid!

  Say what? Say what?

  I need a hearing aid!

  When I crash a party,

  people stop and stare.

  ’Cause I’m chillin’ like a villain,

  Rollin’ in my wheelchair.

  I got a diamond grill!

  What’s up! What’s up!

  And some gold false teeth

  both soaking in a cup.

  If you wanna hear the truth,

  don’t listen to a liar.

  I’m NOT the Real Slim Shady,

  but I’m spittin’ FIRE!

  All the haters be hatin’

  ’cause my rhymes don’t stop.

  And today I wanna say . . . !

  Oops! I forgot!

  Now wave your canes

  in the air!

  We’re wearing diapers, and we

  just don’t care!

  Get your bingo on

  till the break of dawn.

  If you’re MEAN, then SCREAM,

  “HEY! GET OFF MY LAWN!!”

  Besides my mind,

  I got nothing to lose.

  Stylin’ in my blinged-out

  Velcro shoes!

  If you’re feelin’ this rap,

  stand up and dance!

  I boogied so hard

  that I POOPED my pants!

  I’m sippin’ prune juice

  from a red plastic cup,

  screaming, “Help me! I’ve fallen,

  and I can’t get up!”

  Mic check! Mic check!

  Yo! 1-2-3!

  Don’t you wanna be a rapper

  like Old Max C.?

  ***************************

  Hey, I don’t want to brag, but this rap is DOPE!

  Personally, I think I could have a really long and successful rap career that might last well into my eighties.

  And I’d make a boatload of CASH too!!

  FOR REAL!!

  8. JUST CALL ME BARF!

  I don’t have the slightest idea why Thug Thurston HATES me so much.

  I NEVER did anything to him.

  On purpose, anyway.

  But I guess there WAS that little accident in PE class.

  The one that earned me the nickname BARF.

  Hey, don’t laugh. It was actually pretty scary at the time.

  We were in PE doing the rope climb. You have to climb up a thirty-foot rope to the gym ceiling, ring a bell, and then slide down. All in only sixty seconds.

  I was feeling really nervous because I HATE heights. . . .

  I couldn’t believe I had only climbed up that stupid rope a measly twenty-nine inches. It felt like a mile.

  I guess I didn’t need that stepladder after all.

  But afterward I felt so dizzy and queasy, I actually THREW UP my oatmeal! Right there in the gym. . . .

  ON THUG THURSTON’S FOOT!!!

  The whole thing was surreal.

  That guy was SO mad, I could almost see steam coming out of his ears like a cartoon character or something.

  Our teacher shook his head in disgust and went to get a janitor to clean up the mess I’d made.

  That’s when Thug got right up in my face, so close I could smell the STANK from the baloney, mustard, and egg sandwich he had eaten for breakfast.

  I swear!! It smelled so bad I almost puked AGAIN!

  On his OTHER foot!! For REAL!!

  Then he snarled, “Yo! PUNK! I should rip your head right off your shoulders, dribble it across the floor, and . . .”

  He shot an imaginary basket.

  “SWISH!! What do you think of that, BARF?!”

  I did NOT appreciate that guy dissing me in front of the entire PE class and calling me out like that.

  Hey, dude! My name is Max Crumbly!

  However, for health reasons, I decided it would probably be a good idea for me to ALSO answer to the name BARF.

  “What do I think of YOU ripping my head off and shooting a basket with it? Actually, um . . . I’m a little attached to my head. So why don’t you just rip off something else?” I answered nervously. . . .

  THUG, RIPPING OFF MY HEAD AND SHOOTING A BASKET WITH IT!!

  Everyone in the class started snickering at my accidentally sarcastic answer.

  Which, of course, made Thug even MORE angry at me.

  This is what I wanted to say to him. . . .

  “Dude! Just chill out! That vomit on your shoe is the LEAST of your problems. Have you looked in the mirror lately? Your acne is so BAD it looks like your face caught on fire and someone tried to put it out with a fork!!”

  But because I’m a peaceful person and very allergic to beatdowns, I thought I should at least apologize for my accident to squash our beef.

  “Um . . . s-sorry, bro! For r-real!” I stammered.

  “You don’t look that sorry to ME!” Thug fumed.

  Then he grabbed me by the collar of my T-shirt and actually growled at me like an angry pit bull or something. . . .

  THUG, REALLY TICKED OFF THAT I THREW UP ON HIS SHOE!

  Thank goodness the PE teacher came back, and just in time, too. He stared at us like he knew something was about to go down.

  Thug whispered some not-so-nice words under his breath and pushed me away.

  “THURSTON! Go clean off your shoe! And why are the rest of y’all standing around here like a parade is coming or something? Give me three laps around the gym! Move it!” the teacher yelled like an army drill sergeant. “Come on, people! Get the lead out! Hustle!”

  Okay! This is what I wanted to know. If I was already blowin’ chunks of oatmeal, WHY would the teacher make ME run three laps around the gym?!

  WHAT an IDIOT!!

  But I wasn’t about to stand there and argue with the guy. So I just sucked it up and started running laps too.

  The oatmeal vomit fiasco is probably why Thug HATES me to this day. And now, every chance he gets, he hunts me down like an animal and makes my life MISERABLE.

  I know! I know! You’re probably thinking, Why not just report Thug to the principal and be done with it? He’d get detention or maybe even be expelled.

  To be honest, I’ve thought about doing that a million times. I’m just worried that the principal might tell my parents and they’d pull me out of this school.

  But here’s the word on the street! . . .

  I heard at lunch yesterday that Thug’s parents are getting a divorce. And there’s a chance he’ll be moving to another city at the end of the school year.

  Very BAD news for HIM! BOO-HOO! But very GOOD news for ME! WOO-HOO!

  I was SO relieved that Thug might possibly move that I actually did my VICTORY DANCE! . . .

  So, the way I see it, I basically have to survive EITHER . . .

  ONE year at South Ridge Middle School with Thug!

  Or FIVE very long, agonizing years of homeschooling with my grandma!

  Hey! Call me a zit-faced glutton for punishment, but at this point, I choose . . .

  THUG!

  Sorry ’bout that, Grandma.

  9. HOW I ACCIDENTALLY BUSTED MY PANTS, BASHED MY KNEE, AND BRUISED MY EGO

  Okay, if this scene were in one of my favorite comic books, it would be written like this. . . .

  “When we last left our hero, he was trapped inside the deep, dark bowels of his locker, imprisoned there, for perhaps eternity, by his evil archnemesis, Thug Thurston. However, using his stealth and cunning, our hero communicates telepathically with a nearby alien life-form in an attempt to summon help!”

  So maybe desperately banging on my locker door while screaming hysterically like a scared toddler WASN’T exactly telepathic or very heroic. But still! It worked.

  Through the small ven
ts in the door, I saw a startled girl freeze in her tracks. Then she slowly approached my locker and stared at it with a perplexed look on her face. . . .

  THE FABULOUS VIEW FROM INSIDE MY LOCKER!!

  Thank goodness! Help at last! But when I finally recognized just WHO she was, my heart dropped into my socks.

  It was Erin Madison! THE cutest and smartest girl in the entire eighth grade. She was also president of the computer club which was one of the main reasons I wanted to join it.

  We’d had a really deep conversation in science class the first week of school.

  I was handing in my extra-credit homework about the largest carnivorous (meat-eating) dinosaurs when she’d smiled at me and said, “Wow! Did you draw those dinos? You’re a super-talented artist!”

  After I checked to make sure she wasn’t talking to someone behind me, I gave her a goofy grin, shrugged, and then just kind of stared at her.

  I was really nervous. Somehow I tripped over the trash can, fell over, split my pants, banged my knee on the floor, and screamed, “OW! DANG, THAT HURT!”

  Of course, Thug and most of the kids in my class laughed and told me what a total KLUTZ I was.

  I was SO embarrassed and humiliated! I wanted to shove the trash can over my head, crawl out of the room to the nearest bathroom, and FLUSH myself down the toilet.

  “OMG! Are you okay?” Erin had exclaimed as she helped me up.

  But I just nodded, covered the gaping hole in the back of my pants (that was exposing my official, vintage Superman logo underwear that I’d purchased on eBay, thinking that one day they’d be worth a boatload of money) with my science book, and limped away as quickly as I could on a totally busted kneecap.

  Yes! I’d made a complete FOOL of myself!

  So I was surprised when Erin actually stopped to talk to me a few days later. Everything was perfect! For about fifteen seconds. . . .

  I couldn’t believe Thug just came out of nowhere and bumped into me like that.