by Greyson Mann
BOTHER Sam? I must have scrunched up my face or something, because Mrs. Slime told me that Sam had suddenly started sneezing whenever Moo came around.
Sure enough, at that exact moment, Sam sneezed, and a sticky gob of slime landed on my cheek. That was pretty traumatic, let me tell you. But I barely noticed it, because I had just realized something:
This was NOT Sam.
Mrs. Collins must have done something with the old Sam and replaced him with this new creation. This FRANKEN-slime who DIDN’T love cats. Who was ALLERGIC to cats. Who only wanted to STUDY!
Suddenly, I had to get out of there. I couldn’t stand the sight of this new Sam—this fake Sam. So I told him I had homework of my own to do—that I’d just remembered a newspaper article that was due on Tuesday.
And you know what? I wasn’t even lying. Because when a creep makes a discovery this big, he HAS to tell the world about it—or at least tell all of Mob Middle School. Someone has to put a stop to Mrs. Collins’s scientific experiments.
I’ve decided that if no one at school listens to me, I’ll send my article straight to the CREEPER CHRONICLE. It’s time to tell the truth about what’s going on around here.
My buddy Sam’s life depends on it.
I only hope I’m not too late …
THE TRUTH ABOUT ROOM 117
By Gerald Creeper Jr.
Maybe some of you have noticed that Room 117 is ALWAYS locked. I sure did. And after very exhausting exhaustive research, I’ve deduced why.
Something’s going on in that room that the teachers here at Mob Middle School DON’T want you to know about. (At least one teacher anyway.) But I’ll let the facts speak for themselves:
• Fact 1. Mrs. Collins has been doing scientific experiments in that room.
• Fact 2. She gets in through a secret portal, hidden by a painting.
• Fact 3: One of her victims is our beloved Sam Sebastian Slime. (Sam, a lifelong cat lover, has suddenly developed an allergy to cats. And—GASP—a love for studying!)
How many other victims are there? What is Mrs. Collins’s evil plan? To turn every mob here at Mob Middle School into a PERFECT student?
The time has come to put an end to this madness. Let’s show the teachers of Mob Middle School that WE WILL NOT STAND FOR IT.
Signed,
Gerald Creeper Jr., Lead Investigator
Ziggy Zombie, Assistant Investigator
DAY 24: MONDAY
I’m doing it—I’m turning in my newspaper article TONIGHT. News this big HAS to be shared.
I even gave Ziggy part of the credit for cracking this case. I think he’ll appreciate that. (And if this thing doesn’t go over well, at least I won’t go down alone.)
Anyway, I’m going to give the article to Mr. Zane on the sly. Because even though he’s not my favorite teacher, he seems like a pretty honest guy. And we’re gonna need some help busting Mrs. Collins.
If I’m wrong about Mr. Zane—or if ANYTHING happens to me—please send a copy of my newspaper article to the CREEPER CHRONICLE.
Oh, and look after Sticky.
And tell Mom and Dad that I’m sorry, but there comes a time in every creeper’s life when he just has to stand up for what’s right.
DAY 25: TUESDAY
WHAT does a creeper have to DO to get a grown-up to LISTEN around here?
I tried, I REALLY did. I gave Mr. Zane my article last night, and he read it on the spot. But instead of congratulating me for uncovering a secret and dangerous operation at Mob Middle School, he pulled me into his office.
At first, I thought he was trying to protect me—like put me in a witness protection program or something. I’ve heard about things like that, where mobs who point the finger at criminals get sent to different parts of the Overworld and live in disguise. That way, the criminals can’t hunt them down and blow them up or anything.
Well, let’s just say that’s NOT what Mr. Zane was doing. I figured it out as soon as he picked up his phone and called Dad. Fifteen minutes later, Dad showed up and walked me home.
When I tried to tell Dad what had happened—about the cobweb in Mrs. Collins’s hair and the fact that Sam was sneezing all over Moo—he just stopped me and said, “Gerald, I’m afraid your mom and I have been neglecting you.”
WHY do parents always DO that? They think everything is about them. Like when you do well in school, they take credit for it. And when you do something bad, they think they somehow RUINED you with their parenting.
Anyway, Dad thinks that I MADE UP the whole newspaper story to get attention. SERIOUSLY???
I was afraid Mom would think the same thing—that she’d meet me at the door in tears and tell me how SORRY she was for caring more about her mystery novel than me. (Mom can be kind of dramatic sometimes.) But she didn’t. She must have been out in her chicken coop.
When Dad asked if I wanted hot cocoa, I told him NO. I said I was going to my room and I wasn’t going to eat or drink another thing until someone BELIEVED me.
I guess I can be kind of dramatic sometimes, too. But when a creeper takes a stand, he’s gotta see it through.
So I just figured out what a creeper’s gotta do to get mobs to listen. I guess he’s gotta blow his top and MAKE SOME NOISE.
See, Chloe barged into my room the minute she got home from school. She demanded to know what had happened with Mr. Zane. I guess there were rumors going around that I’d gotten expelled or something.
Anyway, I told Chloe that I’d given Mr. Zane my article—the one about Sam and Mrs. Collins. She gave me her sad little smirk, the one that says, “You’re such a loser, Gerald. I’m embarrassed to call you my brother.”
So when she came back a few minutes later to say something VERY WEIRD was happening in her closet, I wasn’t all that inclined to help her. I mean, why should I?
But I guess the detective in me won out. I guess I was tired of all the mysteries I couldn’t solve. Maybe I couldn’t bust Mrs. Collins in her Franken-slime science lab, but I could at LEAST solve The Case of Chloe’s Creepy Closet.
So I followed her in. But this time, we didn’t hear tapping. We heard CRYING. Whatever mob or monster was on the other side of that “portal,” it wasn’t a very happy one.
I started looking for clues. I pulled out my magnifying glass. I tried to think of every tip I’d ever gotten from the Sherlock Bones books. And the whole time, Chloe just watched me with that smirk on her face.
Well, suddenly, I was pretty sure I knew how that mob on the other side of the wall felt—trapped, with no way out. While I stood there, listening to all that blubbering, something started BUBBLING inside of ME.
It fizzed and popped and hissed. It boiled over like mushroom stew in a pot three sizes too small.
I suddenly got hot and sweaty. And before I could tell Chloe to look out …
I BLEW.
For just a second, I felt better. Blowing up is like that—you get all the bad feelings out, once and for all. But after the gunpowder cleared, I saw the hole in Chloe’s wall—and the mob that was hiding behind it.
MOM.
She must have been sitting at a desk, because there were splinters of wood scattered all around. And her laptop was SMOKING.
Well, I thought Mom would see her ruined laptop and go all zombie pigwoman on me. But she didn’t. She just said in a tiny voice, “You found me.”
Turns out, Mom had a secret room of her own—an unused closet hidden behind the dresser in my parents’ bedroom. When the chicken coop office didn’t really pan out, Mom turned this closet into an office. It was quiet. And private.
But now? It was ruined.
I must have apologized to Mom a gazillion times.
But you know what she said? She said it was probably for the best. She said she was still working on chapter one of her book, and that it was so boring, even SHE fell asleep whenever she read it.
Anyway, Mom said that maybe she and I could both get a good day’s sleep for once. And she went right to bed.
But me? Not so much. Because I may have blown open the Case of Chloe’s Creepy Closet, but I still haven’t convinced anyone about what’s going on in Room 117. I’ve been banished from school, but SAM is still there.
Who’s going to save him from Mrs. Collins now?
DAY 26: WEDNESDAY
Well, Mom and I have a new favorite saying: “You can’t judge a book by its cover.” Or a room by its door. Or a librarian by the cobweb in her hair. Something like that.
See, I got called BACK to school last night—by Mrs. Collins herself.
At first, I gotta say, I was scared. I mean, what did SHE want with ME? Was she going to experiment on ME, too? Was I going to come out of Room 117 a changed dude, just a shadow of the creeper I used to be?
I didn’t want to go—until Mom said she’d go with me. Now I know Mom isn’t exactly the toughest mob in the Overworld. But she can be fierce when she wants to be—like if someone messes with one of her chickens, or with one of her kids.
So with Mom by my side, we crept off to Mob Middle School. Mrs. Collins met us in the library, and Mr. Zane was there too.
You know what Mrs. Collins said first? She said SORRY. She told me she didn’t blame me for writing that article about her, because she actually DID have a secret.
When she asked if I wanted to see Room 117, I froze up. Seriously. I felt like a pit of hot lava that someone had just poured water over—like I’d turned into this giant block of obsidian.
But Mom said it was okay—that she’d go, too. So before I knew it, I was following Mom and Mrs. Collins behind that painting, through that door, and into that mysterious room.
The first thing I saw were bookshelves—LOTS of them. But in the middle of the shelves was something I HADN’T seen before. I thought it was a furnace, but Mrs. Collins told me it was an “enchantment table.” She explained that it was really old, and that she’d discovered it this year, and that she’d been trying to see if she could get it to work.
If she COULD make it work, she said, we could all learn how to do enchantments. I guess they’re kind of like potions, but anyone can do them—not just witches.
Well, heck YES, I wanted to say—sign me up! But then I thought of Sam. Was SAM learning how to do enchantments? Is THAT why he’d been coming into this room?
I asked Mrs. Collins about Sam, but she just laughed. She said Sam had been kind enough to keep her secret, but that NO, he hadn’t been coming to the room to do enchantments. She said I should probably ask HIM what he’s been doing in that room—that maybe now he will tell me.
Well, I’m not so sure about that. I mean, the slime has been so slippery and secretive. Why would he suddenly tell me his secret now? The fake Sam that I imagined in my head over the last week or so sure wouldn’t.
But I’m really hoping the REAL Sam will.
DAY 27: THURSDAY
I once lost my lucky mushroom. It’s this petrified thing that my buddy Cash Creeper gave me before he moved away. And when I found it again under my bed, I felt like I’d just discovered a cave filled with emeralds. Like I was the luckiest creep in the Overworld.
That’s how I felt after hanging out with Sam this morning. See, it turns out, he’s NOT a Franken-slime. He’s MY slime—my best friend anyway.
When I told him about my meeting with Mrs. Collins, he let out this GINORMOUS sigh. He looked SO relieved, like I’d just lifted a giant block of obsidian off his shoulders.
I guess it’s been really hard on Sam keeping Mrs. Collins’s secret about the enchantment table. And when he found out I KNEW, then his other secrets poured right out of his mouth, too.
Sam said he hadn’t just been studying on Wednesdays and Fridays after school. He’d been seeing a TUTOR. In Room 117.
A tutor? Well, why in the Overworld hadn’t he just SAID so, I asked.
Sam got all weepy and puddle-like and said he was embarrassed.
MOI? I mean, I’m pretty good at math and art. But I reminded Sam that he was WAY better at science. And that I’d just gotten kicked off the newspaper staff and practically expelled from school.
Well, that made him smile. And suddenly, Sam and I were back to good.
Especially when he pulled out his Cat Cam and showed me a video of him and Moo. I guess Sam’s mom finally got him some allergy medicine, so he and his favorite critter are back to good, too. I didn’t even mind the part of the video where Sam and Moo shared a hot chocolate. (Well, Moo licked off the whipped cream topping anyway.)
So everything is finally back to NORMAL around here. Well, except for the fact that I’ve decided to take Whisper Witch up on her offer to help me write a newspaper article.
Mrs. Collins asked me to cover a new story, and I really want to get it right. So Whisper Witch is coming over this weekend to FACT-check my article.
I guess I’d better get busy writing …
DAY 30: SUNDAY
I worked hard on this article, so you can imagine the happy dance I did when Whisper said it was good. REALLY good, she said.
I mean, I DID do most of the work. But I’m happy to give her credit, too. Because every good investigative reporter needs a sidekick.
Anyway, Dad read the article and said I might have a future as a writer, just like Mom. But Mom said she’s pretty much done with all that. She’s going to donate her Agatha Crispy books to my school library (which is good—we need a whole lot more mysteries and a whole lot fewer FACTS OF LIFE books!).
Oh, and Mom also decided to join a painting class. She wants to hang a painting in front of the hole I blew through the back of Chloe’s closet. I guess Mom was inspired by the whole “painting in the library” thing at school.
Maybe there’s no portal behind Chloe’s wall, but Mom thinks they should keep the secret room—a place any of us can go when we need a little privacy.
As for me, I guess I’ve got a new plan too. See, there’s this new extracurricular coming to Mob Middle School. Whisper Witch might join, too. Like I said, the girl signs up for pretty much everything. But you know what? That’s okay by me.
MOB MIDDLE SCHOOL OBSERVER
AN “ENCHANTING” EXTRACURRICULAR
By Gerald Creeper Jr. and Whisper Witch
Sore from sprinting? Tired of strategically exploding? Not exactly LOVING llama riding? Well, join the club! The ENCHANTMENT CLUB, that is.
Yup, you heard it right, folks. Mrs. Collins is starting a new class in Room 117. She’s dusting off the cobwebs, unlocking the door, and showing off Mob Middle School’s very own enchantment table.
Check out the coolest BOOKS you’ll ever read—the ENCHANTED kind. Create an enchanted HELMET that helps you breathe underwater.
Enchanted ARROWS that can set things on fire. (Burnt pork chops, anyone?)
Enchanted ARMOR that lets you walk through flames. (Field trip to the Nether? Sign us up!)
You heard it here first: The Enchantment Club is coming to Mob Middle School. Join us in Room 117 on Fridays after school.
Oh, and remember, kids: NEVER judge a book by its cover. There might be something “enchanting” hiding inside!
DON’T MISS ANY OF GERALD CREEPER JR.’S HILARIOUS ADVENTURES!
