by Greyson Mann
And just as we were running out the door—Sam all wobbly and hyped up on caffeine—guess who walked in?
Yup. Connor. The first thing he said was, “Hey, Gerald!” He remembered my name, which is a good sign. And he seemed happy to see me.
The next thing he said was, “Holy stink. What’s that smell?”
That’s when Sam got all wiggly and embarrassed and said, “Yeah, that’d be me. Sorry about that.”
He actually ADMITTED that he caused that disgusting smell. Who DOES that? I could think of a gazillion other things to say, like “I think some critter died in the walls” or “Someone probably lit off a firecracker” or “There’s a baby zombie in the corner booth who needs a serious diaper change.”
But Sam’s too honest. And he’s not that quick of a thinker, even when he’s all caffeined up.
Connor got as far away from us as FAST as he could. Then Sam bounced out the door as if nothing had happened. And I followed him out feeling like something DID die in the walls—my hope for a friendship with Connor.
I’m trying to help Sam out—I really am. I mean, it’d be great if we could all three be friends.
But that stinky slime is SURE not making it easy for me!
DAY 6: TUESDAY
So I just got home from school, and I’m DYING to talk to Mom. But there’s this note on the table that says she’s at the knitting store buying more yarn. MORE yarn? How many scarves, hats, socks, sweaters, and ponchos can one creeper mom knit?
Anyway, I’ve been pacing my bedroom floor waiting for her to get home. See, there was this big announcement at school last night about a field trip. NEXT week. To Mushroom Island.
The island sounds AWESOME. You have to take a boat to get there, and the island is full of these crazy red and white cows. They’re called “Mooshrooms” because red mushrooms grow right on their backs! And we’re going to learn how to milk them and all kinds of weird stuff.
But the best part is that Connor is going. So I HAVE to go too—that’s all part of my plan. If I stick with him, he’ll get used to having me around. Pretty soon, he’ll start thinking of me as his friend—even if he’s not into rap and drawing. Even if I have this other friend who is a giant slime, and kind of stinky.
So all I need is Mom’s signature on the permission slip, and I’m good to go.
Wait! I hear the front door opening. Be right back . . .
Life is SO unfair.
Do you know what Mom said when I asked her about Mushroom Island? She said that Mooshrooms carry DISEASE. She said that I could get something called “Mad Mooshroom Disease” from those cows. REALLY??? Sometimes I think all that knitting is knotting up Mom’s brain, too.
I told her that the school wouldn’t be taking us to the island if it were even a teensy bit dangerous. But she said that it was a PARENT’S job to keep her creeper kids safe. And that there would be other kids staying back next week too. And that they’d all be impressed by the new sweater I’d be wearing, just as soon as she could unravel the yarn she’d bought.
Well, I paced my room again until Dad got home. I figured HE could talk some sense into Mom. But he didn’t! He took one look at the mound of yarn on the kitchen table, and he pretty much ran for the backyard, as if he could outrun the new sweater Mom would be making for HIM.
“Dad,” I said. “Wait! Can I go on the field trip to Mushroom Island?”
“Whatever your mother says, Gerald.” That was the last thing I heard before the back door slammed shut. End of discussion.
So . . . I guess Connor is going on the field trip without me. He’ll probably end up hanging with some of the other older creepers. And he’ll have a blast. And forget all about Gerald Creeper Jr.
But, hey. At least I’ll get a new sweater out of the deal!
GREAT.
DAY 7: WEDNESDAY
So something really interesting happened last night—WAY more interesting than a new sweater.
Actually, it happened this morning after school. See, I was about to walk home when I saw Connor standing behind the school watching the Spider Riding class. I hoped he wasn’t thinking about joining THAT. I mean, it’s all jocks in the class—spider jockeys like Bones and his buddies.
In fact, right as I was walking over to say that to Connor, Bones rode by on this big hairy spider. I don’t even like to look at them, with their red eyes and furry bodies. But Connor stared right at that spider. He even kind of stepped into its path.
I expected Bones to take some kind of crack at Connor, the way he always does with me. But he didn’t. He just backed his spider up, as if it were HIS bad that Connor nearly got run over. And he rode the other way.
WEIRD.
I was going to ask Connor about it, but that was right about the time he asked ME something. He asked if I was going on the field trip.
It killed me to tell him no. I mean, he was practically inviting me to go WITH him, and I had to say that Mom was keeping me safe from Mad Mooshroom Disease. Well, I didn’t really say that. I mean, I need Connor to think I’m a normal kid from a normal creeper family. In other words, I have to lie.
So I said that I’d forgotten to get my parents’ signature. The permission slips are due tomorrow (that part’s true), and I said my parents were out of town tonight. Oh, well. Too bad for me.
That’s when Connor said he had an idea. He looked around like he didn’t want anyone else to hear it.
But my Evil Twin showed up to wreck the day. She sprinted toward us from a nearby field and said, “Hey, Connor. Are you here to join Strategic Exploding?”
“Nope,” he said. “Not a chance.” Then he turned back to me as if she were nothing more than a pesky silverfish.
Well, she wasn’t happy about that. I saw her face darken, the way it does when she’s thinking about exploding. She didn’t do it right away. But then Connor turned around and said, “Are you still here? Give us some space, would ya? This is a guy thing.”
That did it. There’s nothing Chloe hates worse than being left out.
She set her jaw, scrunched her eyes shut, and strategically exploded. And as Connor and I shook the gunpowder off, he rolled his eyes and said, “GIRLS.”
“Yeah, I know, right?” I said, hoping he’d get back to sharing his big idea.
And maybe he would have. But Sam bounced over right about then with his girlfriend, Willow. “Hey guys!” he said all perky like. (See, I told you he’d bounce back.) “What are you talking about?”
“Guy stuff,” I explained. Even though I had no idea what that meant.
Willow turned her ear toward us, as if she had brewed some Potion of Better Hearing and wanted to hear every word of this Guy Stuff.
But Connor picked right up on that. He pulled Sam in closer. “Can you tell your girlfriend we need a little privacy here?”
“What do you mean?” asked Sam, confused. “It’s after school. Willow and I ALWAYS hang out after school.”
Connor flashed me a look of disgust. “Dude, grow a backbone,” he said to Sam. And he started hissing, which meant I was running out of time to hear his big idea.
“SAM,” I whispered. “Tell Willow to go away.”
Well that did it. I don’t think slimes have a single bone in their bodies, but all of a sudden, he managed to grow one. He stood up tall and walked away. Or bounced away. Next to his girlfriend.
“Okay, so where were we?” asked Connor.
“Guy stuff. Big idea,” I reminded him.
“Right.” He got that gleam back in his eye and told me that he made a bunch of fireworks to take to Mooshroom Island.
Fireworks? I LOVE fireworks! And if Connor did too, that meant we had ANOTHER thing in common.
But then I remembered something. I wasn’t going on that field trip!
When I reminded him of that, he got another big idea. “I’ll sign your permission slip,” he said. “Seeing as how your parents are out of town and all. I have pretty stellar penmanship.” He flashed that grin again—the on
e he gave Mrs. Collins. I think he probably gets away with a lot of stuff because of that “Who me? I’m just an innocent creeper!” smile.
But now I had a decision to make:
• Have Connor sign the permission slip. Go on the field trip (even though I might make Mom mad—and catch Mad Mooshroom Disease). And set off fireworks with Connor Creeper, my new best friend.
OR
• Stay home from the field trip. Forget the fireworks. And wear an itchy new sweater.
Well, hmm. That was a toughie.
So that’s how I ended up sitting at home this morning with a signed permission slip.
I don’t have all the details worked out yet, but I’m getting there. So far, my 30-day plan is shaping right up. Did I mention I’m pretty good at this planning thing?
DAY 9: FRIDAY
Did you know you can use Cat Cams for something GOOD?
While Sam was wasting his precious camera taking videos of Moo batting at water, running into windows, and dressed up in dumb little costumes, Connor was catching way more interesting video. Turns out, he’s been using a camera to spy on Bones. Which explains a LOT.
See, after school this morning, I saw Bones steer clear of Connor again. And I finally got up the nerve to ask Connor about it.
“What gives?” I asked. “Bones doesn’t like creepers. But he likes you. Or at least he leaves you alone, which is even BETTER than him liking you.”
And Connor said that the secret to a good relationship with a skeleton is getting some dirt on him.
He didn’t mean like the blocks of dirt you get from the ground. He meant like BLACKMAIL—like what you see in movies.
I guess Bones has been secretly riding the school’s spiders over the weekend. Which is REALLY illegal. I mean, if he gets caught, he might get thrown in jail. (Or at least kicked off the Spider Jockey team.)
And somehow, Connor caught it on video last weekend. He was passing by the school and saw it all, and just happened to have his camera with him. And once Bones found out Connor had “dirt” on him, he started treating him really well.
So just when I thought Connor couldn’t get any cooler, he went and did.
I’m wishing I had some dirt on Bones too. But maybe if I stick close to Connor, Bones will leave me alone. So far, so good, right?
DAY 11: SUNDAY
The field trip is TOMORROW NIGHT. If I were anything like my Evil Twin or Cammy the Exploding Baby, I’d blow up with excitement. But I’m also really nervous—like itchy-skin nervous. See, when I’m even the SLIGHTEST bit nervous, I sweat. And sweating makes my skin itch.
So do ugly wool sweaters. But lucky me! Mom just finished a new one for me tonight. “You can wear it to school tomorrow,” she said. “It’ll be just like you’re on that field trip!”
I didn’t know what she meant until I studied the sweater. It was green and had these red and white things on it. Was it a Christmas sweater? Nope. It was a MUSHROOM sweater.
Those red and white things were mushrooms. SERIOUSLY? If I ever wore that thing, I’d look like I’d caught Mad Mooshroom Disease for sure.
I wanted to run for the hills—or at least the backyard, like Dad does. But Mom looked SO proud. So I put it on so Mom could take a picture to send to Aunt Constance. I sort of think they have a competition going to see who can knit the ugliest things. Mom’s GOT to be winning this one.
That’s when my older sister, Cate, walked into the room. She’s kind of moody and doesn’t smile very often. I think it’s because Dad made her break up with a miner named Steve, and she hasn’t been right ever since. But when she saw me in the sweater with mushrooms on it, she just about flipped her wig laughing.
See, I call my sister the Fashion Queen because she wears all these weird wigs and dresses up in crazy costumes. I don’t think she’s really one to judge my mushroom sweater. I mean, like tonight—she was wearing this purple villager robe, like she was a priest or something. Where does she GET this stuff? Her closet is stuffed full of it.
Mom took Cate’s laughter as a sign that she LIKED the sweater. And Mom said she’d knit Cate one, too. Well that shut my sister right up.
When she protested, I took the opportunity to escape to my room and bury the sweater under my bed.
And tomorrow? I’ll have to hide that sweater as soon as i’m out the front door.
But I have more important things to think about right now. Like how I’m going to score a seat next to Connor on the boat ride to Mushroom Island. And whether I should pack a few fireworks of my own.
We have a whole barrel of gunpowder in the garage—mostly from Cammy’s explosions. And if I start now, I can make a few fireworks before morning. THAT would impress Connor for sure, right?
I’d better get started!
DAY 13: TUESDAY
Dad says the number 13 is unlucky. I think he might be right. Because on Day 13 of my 30-Day Plan, things started to fall apart—or should I say started to BLOW apart.
But let me start at the beginning.
As soon as Chloe and I got to school last night, she headed toward the gym. See, the kids who weren’t going on the field trip got to spend the morning either in the gym OR in the art room. PERFECT! My Evil Twin would think I was off creating art—not riding a boat to Mushroom Island. I made a point of telling Chloe where I was going, which I never do. “I’m heading off to art now!” I hollered after her down the hall.
“Good for you,” Chloe said. “See you later.”
Okay. Done. THAT was the easy part of the day.
The boat ride to Mushroom Island went alright too.
I mean, I kind of had to bounce Sam out of the seat next to me. I told him it really wasn’t big enough for a slime like him—that he should find a seat with more elbow room. He doesn’t actually HAVE elbows. But the thing about Sam is, he doesn’t think about things like that. He just said “Thanks, Gerald” and bounced off happily to sit somewhere else.
Then I invited Connor to sit by me. He was on his way over when the eighth-grade boat went by and Eddy Enderman looked at us. I was kind of surprised to see him on the boat, because Eddy HATES water. I tried not to look at his purple eyes. I mean, an Enderman that hates water shouldn’t be teleporting around in the middle of it, right?
But Connor didn’t know all that. He stared right at Eddy, like he was challenging him. I saw Eddy’s eyes narrow with anger. But he didn’t teleport and do any damage to Connor—no, Eddy knows how to play it cool. He just looked away first. And Connor gave me this smug smile, as if he’d won some sort of battle.
Some day, I’m going to have to tell him about Eddy. But for today, I was just happy to be sitting by him. See, I had something to show him.
I slid my backpack over and whispered, “Take a look.”
He opened up the zipper and peered inside. “Is that a sweater?” he said. “Wait, are those MUSHROOMS on your sweater?”
“No!” I said, yanking back my bag. “I mean, look at what’s underneath.” I pushed the sweater aside, wishing I could toss it overboard. And then I showed Connor the red-and-white–striped rockets I’d made out of paper and gunpowder.
They were decent fireworks, considering I hadn’t made any in a while. And I was pretty proud of them—just like Mom was of her mushroom sweater. But Ziggy happened to be staggering by right at that moment, and HE saw the rockets too.
“Whoa,” he moaned. “I wish I had fireworks like that.” He wiped the drool off his chin.
But Connor just kind of shrugged.
“Cool,” he said. “We can add them to mine.”
When I looked in HIS backpack, I sucked in my breath. I mean, his rockets were BULGING with gunpowder. Turns out, that creeper has some rocket-making skills of his own.
I could hardly wait to get to the island so we could set them off over the water. How far would they go? Would they make it back to shore?
I wasn’t totally sure how we were going to sneak the rockets past Mr. Zane, our sixth-grade chaperone. But Connor is
pretty clever—and zombies like Mr. Zane are pretty slow. So, we’d find a way.
As soon as we landed on Mushroom Island, we could hear the Mooshrooms mooing. Then, in the moonlight, we saw their red heads popping up over a hill. They were staring at us, like we were mobs from a faraway land. I guess we kind of were.
Mushroom Island is really hilly, and it’s covered in red mushrooms—big ones, little ones, and medium-sized ones. I saw a Mooshroom grazing on a mushroom, and I suddenly heard Mom’s voice in my head. “You are what you eat.” Here on Mushroom Island, it’s really true.
Mr. Zane told us to follow him uphill so he could teach us how to milk a Mooshroom. GROSS. I wasn’t having any part of that—until he said that when you milk a Mooshroom with a bowl, you actually get mushroom stew. My stomach kind of growled then. Did I mention I could barely eat dinner last night because I was so nervous? And that I’m a big fan of mushroom stew?
It took a while for Mr. Zane to “catch” a Mooshroom. (Mooshrooms are slow, but zombies are even slower.)
But he finally got that bowl under the Mooshroom and started milking. I could smell the mushroom stew from where I was standing a few feet away, and my mouth started to water.
While he filled that bowl, Mr. Zane told us that you can actually shear the mushrooms off a Mooshroom. “But you don’t want to,” he said. “Because they don’t grow back. And then baby Mooshrooms don’t recognize their mothers.”
