by Greyson Mann
I knew he could teleport to me in a flash. He could hurt me, even worse than lightning.
But another part of me thought he might surprise me and want to be my friend. Maybe that was crazy—just like Chloe going in search of lightning was kind of crazy. But it was how I felt. And I was tired of being scared of Eddy.
So you know what happened when I looked at that Enderman?
He disappeared. He must have gone the other way.
Some kids would have felt good about that, like they won the battle or something. But me? I was disappointed. It didn't help that the cloud over my head chose that very moment to drench me with rain.
I guess it's time to cross "Never look an Enderman in the eye" off my survival plan.
And I can cross out the idea of ever being friends with Eddy, too. He's obviously not all that interested in hanging out with a freak pacifist creeper like me.
DAY 26: MONDAY
The sun is coming up, but I can't sleep. I keep thinking about what happened last night.
Chloe and I made it home before the storm hit. And I got my roasted potato dinner. But it didn't taste nearly as good as I thought it would. I couldn't tell if Mom was off her game and had undercooked the potatoes, or if I was just off MY game.
I scratched my way through dinner, and Chloe just pushed her food around on her plate. Mom could tell something was wrong, but she didn't know what. And for some reason, I didn't tell her.
Normally, I'd jump at the first chance to rat out my sister. And if Mom knew that Chloe was trying to get struck by lightning, that girl would get grounded for sure.
But there was nothing normal about what happened yesterday. No one got struck by lightning, but we all changed somehow. My Evil Twin turned back into Chloe, at least for now. Eddy Enderman got a whole lot less cool. And me? I got mad.
I'm still mad. Not in a "hissy, I'm going to blow" sort of way. But in a deeper, tired kind of way. Or maybe I'm just plain tired.
Yup, it's Monday again. Did I mention how much I hate Mondays?
DAY 27: TUESDAY
I'm just going to jump to the good part of Monday night. Which was also the bad part.
When Mrs. Enderwoman asked who wanted to present their history report first, I jumped right up. I wanted to get it over with. Sure, I have a red, itchy rash over every part of my body, but I'm tired of being afraid of being teased. And I'm done keeping a low profile.
I marched to the front of the room and made an announcement. I told everyone that my name is NOT Itchy. It's Gerald, and I have psoriasis, and it's NOT contagious. A couple of kids started laughing, but Mrs. Enderwoman looked them in the eye, and that pretty much ended that.
I told the class how I was named after my dad, who was named after HIS dad—all the way back to Great-Great-Grandpa Gerald. And I explained that Gerald was a pacifist, like me.
I even wrote that word on the board. P-A-C-I-F-I-S-T.
Mrs. Enderwoman seemed pretty impressed by that.
Then I talked about all the ways that Great-Great-Grandpa Gerald was a pacifist:
• He volunteered his time to rebuild houses that other creepers had blown up.
• He was a vegetarian. He raised pigs for riding, not for eating.
So he probably ate a lot more brussels sprouts than pork chops.
• He figured out a way to recycle gunpowder. Some of it was used to make fireworks!
• He helped plan the first Overworld Games. He invited mobs to come and compete at things like archery and sword fighting—like fighting, but in a peaceful way. And he invited HUMANS, too.
I saw some surprised faces when I said that. Even Sam's jaw dropped. When our eyes met, he looked away really fast.
I thought my history report was a success. I somehow made it through without scratching too much, and I was hoping I had put the name "Itchy" to rest. From now on, I'd be Gerald the Pacifist.
Boy, was I wrong.
But before I get to that, let me tell you how Chloe's report went. She stood up right after I did. Maybe I inspired her. But I could tell that her report was going to be too short. It was written on half a sheet of paper.
When she started talking, I sunk down in my chair. Her report wasn't even about a real person. It was about Herobrine—the phantom miner, remember?
Well kids started snickering, so many of them that Mrs. Enderwoman couldn't look them all in the eye. Chloe's voice got softer and softer.
When she was done, no one even clapped—except Mrs. Enderwoman.
I felt bad for my sister, even though it was kind of her fault. Maybe she didn't hear Mrs. Enderwoman's instructions at the beginning of the year. But she could have asked ME for help. That's the thing about Chloe—she never asks for help, even when she really needs it.
I followed her to her locker after class. I was going to say something nice to her, even though we never really talk at school. But when she opened her locker, something fell out.
It was a black witch hat. And written along the brim was the name "ITCHY WITCHY."
I heard the rattling of skeleton laughter behind me. Before I could say anything to Chloe, she stormed past me and stuffed the hat in the trash. She didn't blow up, but she was gone in a flash. Then I heard an explosion coming from the girl's bathroom down the hall.
I whirled around, ready to face Bones and his crew. I don't know what I was going to say. Maybe I wasn't going to SAY anything.
That old bag of bones was already gone, but right then and there, something started burning inside me. At first, I thought it might be indigestion. Or maybe I was just hungry.
But after lunch, that lava pit was still simmering in my chest. After school, I could feel it bubbling. And even now, when I'm trying to sleep, I feel all shook up—like some sort of potion in Willow's brewing stand.
So this is new. And I have a really bad feeling about where it's all headed.
DAY 28: WEDNESDAY MORNING
I'm never going back to that school again. I repeat, I'm NEVER going back.
Mom can make me burned pork chops lined up from here to the Extreme Hills and back again. Dad can talk about all that pacifist stuff till the cows come home. Blah, blah, blah.
I'm not listening anymore.
Do you want to know how school ended this morning? It ended with Mrs. Enderwoman picking rotten flesh out of her hair. I guess she was standing too close to the vending machine when I blew it up.
Yup, that's right. Gerald the Pacifist Jr. BLEW UP. In the cafeteria. In front of everyone.
Well, now that I got that out in the open, I might as well tell you how the school night started.
It started with Bones calling me Itchy. Before first period even started. I don't know why that came as such a shock. I mean, Bones isn't in my history class, so he doesn't know that my name is Gerald or that I was named after Gerald the Pacifist.
And who am I kidding? Bones wouldn't care about that genealogy stuff anyway. He's going to call me Itchy till the day we graduate from this place. Maybe even after.
Like when we're all grown up and we run into each other somewhere. He'll have these bony skeleton babies with him.
And he'll say, "Kids, this is my old friend Itchy from Mob Middle School." Then those skeleton babies will laugh their bony little butts off. So I have THAT to look forward to.
But Bones has been calling me "Itchy" for weeks now. Why did it bother me so much last night?
Maybe because Sam was in the hall, too. And he didn't defend me. He wouldn't even look at me—even after I dropped all those amazing facts about my great-great-grandpa in class yesterday. So I guess nothing has really changed.
What happened after that? Well, fast forward to lunchtime. I was already mad because I realized during Math that I forgot my lunch at home. And I'm sure Mom packed me burned pork chops.
See, she said she'd make me something special after I told her I did well on my history report. And what else could she mean by "special"?
I didn't even get the chance to sme
ll those pork chops. I forgot my green lunchbox on the counter, right next to Cammy's baby bottle. That Exploding Baby was probably home with Mom eating MY pork chops.
So I had no choice except hitting up the vending machine. Third time's the charm, right?
I slid in my emerald and hit the "P" button for pork chops. It took forever for anything to happen, like someone had cast a potion of slowness over the whole machine. Then a pork chop started to move. Not the apple or the milk or the rotten flesh (phew!), but a beautiful pork chop. FINALLY, something was going my way.
The pork chop dropped. I saw it with my own two eyes. But somewhere between the pork chop row and the hole at the bottom of the machine, that chop got STUCK. NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
I started jiggling the machine. I know we're not supposed to do that, but I've seen Sam do it. He's pretty good at it, too. I guess I'm not. That chop wouldn't drop.
I kept at it, getting more and more frustrated. My entire body was itching, and I could feel the lava bubbling in my chest again. I knew the only thing that was gonna cool it down was that pork chop.
Then someone tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was done because she wanted to get something out of the machine. "Do I LOOK like I'm done here?" I wanted to shout.
It was some snooty eighth-grade witch. I didn't know her name, but she reminded me of Willow. And I was NOT going to step aside and let that witch steal my pork chop.
So I just ignored her and kept jiggling the machine. Then I heard laughter. It was that tinkly-bone kind of laughter. I knew right away that it was Bones and his crew up to no good.
I thought they were coming after me, but then I heard Chloe hollering at them to STOP. They were ganging up on her, and she was fighting back. I wished she would just blow up already and get it over with. But for some reason, she didn't.
So I kept wrestling with the machine. I mean, I was really rocking the thing. And Chloe started crying—I could hear her. She needed my help. But I needed my pork chop. And Bones just wouldn't shut his bony mouth.
That lava in me was ready to blow. I got SO hot, like someone had just plunked me into a furnace. I was shaking, too.
When Mrs. Enderwoman stepped in front of me, I could see she was scolding me. Her mouth was moving.
But I couldn't hear a word she said because someone was hissing. It was SO loud. Then I realized the hissing was coming from ME.
I took a step away from the machine. I took a step toward Bones. And the next thing I knew, there was this huge explosion.
I heard glass breaking. I'm pretty sure that was the vending machine.
Then I was lying on the ground next to Bones.
I must have knocked him over, because he had this really surprised look on his face. His mouth was gaping open even wider than usual.
Well, Mrs. Enderwoman and some other teachers cleared all the kids out of the lunchroom right away. I was glad for that. But I had to stick around and pick up the pieces.
There was gunpowder EVERYWHERE. I scooped it up and stuffed it in my backpack—no one even had to ask me to help clean up. I wanted to get rid of the evidence.
I wanted to erase what just happened, the way Mrs. Enderwoman erased the word "pacifist" from the board after my report.
She didn't scold me or send me to the office. She just swept up the glass from the vending machine and picked the rotten flesh out of her hair. Maybe she knew I already felt bad enough about my blowup.
Sitting through the rest of the school night was pure torture. No one would even look at me, except Ziggy Zombie. I felt like an Enderman, but it wasn't nearly as cool as I thought it would be.
When that morning bell finally rang, I sprinted out of school. I sprinted as if Sir Coughs-a-Lot was chasing me. And I didn't stop until I got home.
I locked myself in my room, and that's where I'm going to stay. Forget about surviving Mob School.
Like I said, this creeper is never going back.
DAY 28: WEDNESDAY MORNING
Will this morning NEVER end?!
Dad just called an emergency Creeper Family Meeting. I'm guessing Chloe followed me home and told Mom and Dad everything.
So I can't crawl under the covers. I can't even stay in my room.
Everyone came out to the living room—even Cammy.
Then they all stared at me for a while, like they didn't even know who I was anymore.
That's exactly how I felt. Who was this Gerald Creeper Jr. who blew up over pork chops? Who beat up skeletons instead of using his brains and just ignoring them?
Dad was the first one to talk—no surprise there. He cleared his throat, which is never a good sign. Then he asked if I had anything I wanted to say for myself.
I shook my head. I'd pretty much said it all back there in the cafeteria. But I started to cry. I blame Chloe and Sam for that. There's been WAY too much crying around me lately.
That's when Dad said that what I did was okay. Just like that.
OKAY? How could he say that?
"But I'm a pacifist!" I reminded him.
Mom jumped in and said that being a pacifist doesn't mean you choose peace ALL the time. Just most of the time.
Then Dad said that no one is ever just one thing all the time. He brought up zombie pigmen as an example.
He said they're mostly really peaceful, but if any mob attacks a zombie pigman, they ALL show up for the fight.
Dad said that I went all "zombie pigman" on those skeletons because I was protecting Chloe. And he said that was a good thing.
I guess when Chloe told my parents the story, she didn't know there was a pork chop involved, too. And I wasn't going to tell her. I was just glad I wasn't getting grounded—at least it was looking that way.
Cate was sitting next to Dad, and I suddenly realized she wasn't wearing Rosy the Wig anymore. She actually looked pretty good—like her natural green self.
So after Dad's pep talk, I went a little "zombie pigman" for Cate, too. I said to Dad, "If no one is ever just one thing, does that mean ALL humans aren't ALL bad ALL the time?"
Wow. Cate's eyes just about bugged out of her head.
Dad cleared his throat and said that it was POSSIBLE I was right about that. Then he got up and said the family meeting was pretty much over. He snuck off before I even knew what happened. But then Cate gave me the biggest smile.
I don't want her going and getting her hopes up. I mean, Steve looked pretty tight with that redheaded girl in the village. But at least Cate seems happier now. And maybe Dad's coming around on the human thing, too.
So that was a pretty good family meeting. Cammy didn't even explode—she just played with her creeper baby dolls.
But if she HAD exploded, I might have understood for once. It actually feels pretty good to let those feelings out sometimes.
Just to be clear, I said SOMETIMES. I'm still a pacifist.
And I'm still dreading going back to Mob Middle School. But I'm trying not to think about that right now. A creeper's got to sleep.
DAY 28: WEDNESDAY NIGHT
Mom gave me a free pass tonight. Those were her words: a free pass.
She said I can stay home from school. But then she reminded me that the sun will go down again tomorrow, whatever that means. (I think it means that my free pass is a one-night deal.)
I've been sitting in my room thinking for about as long as a creeper can without going crazy. I tried to sleep, but I can't turn off my brain. It keeps replaying my blowup, over and over again.
Now I'm thinking about weird little details. Like, what should I do with all the gunpowder that I brought home in my backpack?
And what happened to that pork chop? Did the vending machine just swallow it up?
I really wish I'd found it, because after my big blowup, that chop was probably burned to a crisp, just the way I like it.
Anyway, these are the things you think about when you're staring at a blank wall.
I really should put up some pictures or something.
But not ri
ght now. I got a free pass tonight. And I gotta figure out the right way to use it.
DAY 29: THURSDAY
It's dawn, but I can't sleep. I did something last night that I've never done before. I went to the swamp alone.
See, my sisters were at school. Mom took Cammy to the park. And I felt like I needed to make a break for it, or I'd be stuck in my room for another twenty-four hours. So I grabbed my backpack and headed outside.
For some reason, my legs took me to the swamp. I knew Sam wasn't there—he was at school. When I saw the witch huts, I knew Willow was gone, too. But all of a sudden I was wading through the swamp water and right up to her front door.
It wasn't until I was standing on her porch that I knew what I wanted to do.
