Creature from the 7th Grade : Boy or Beast (9781101591833) (15 page)

“You got here just in time, Principal Muchnick,” Craig Dieterly says. “Look what this violent creature did to me.” He holds up his torn shirt.

“What are you carrying under your arm, Dieterly?” Principal Muchnick asks.

“Charlie Drinkwater's transcript, sir,” Craig Dieterly says.

“I thought so. That's private property. Where'd you get it, Mr. Dieterly?”

“Drinkwater stole it from your office, sir,” Craig Dieterly lies. “I was about to return it. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“No, you weren't. You stole it yourself,” Sam says. “We saw him do it, Principal Muchnick.”

“We took pictures of him with our phones,” Lucille adds. “He's lying and we can prove it. Want to see?”

“Shut up, losers!” Craig Dieterly yells.

“No. You shut up, Mr. Dieterly. Give it here,” Principal Muchnick orders. “Right now.” Craig Dieterly gnashes his teeth and hands him my transcript. “I have had enough trouble out of you to last a lifetime. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir.” Craig Dieterly looks down sullenly.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Drinkwater?”

“First I would like to thank my real true friends for standing up for me. And then I'd like to say a special word of gratitude to Mr. Arkady for his continued inspiration and—”

“No, no, no, that's not what I meant,” Principal Muchnick interrupts. “Who started it?”

All eyes are on me as I take a deep breath and confess. “I did, Principal Muchnick. I started the whole thing.”

“You did?” Principal Muchnick is amazed. “Really?”

“Yes. I threw the first punch,” I answer. “I'm not proud of myself. I don't approve of violence in conflict resolution, and if I had to do it again . . .”

“Be quiet,” Principal Muchnick says. “You finally stood up for yourself. It's a miracle. I never thought I'd live to see the day. Congratulations, Mr. Drinkwater, you are no longer on provisional reentry. Consider yourself officially matriculated.”

Craig Dieterly picks up his scythe and smashes it against the wall.

“As for you, Mr. Dieterly,” Principal Muchnick says, “you can collect your belongings and see me in my office in ten minutes. You just got yourself a two-day suspension for breaking and entering, not to mention stealing. Not to mention lying to a school official under oath.”

“I'm so proud of you I'm speechless, little bro,” Dave says. He hugs me as hard as he can.

Then Sam and Lucille and I jump up and down wildly and give each other the official Mainframe handshake. “All for one and one for all!” I am so happy I feel like my heart is going to burst.

SUGAR SHOCK

WE'VE BEEN TRICK-OR-TREATING
for close to three hours, and our pillowcases are nearly full. My uncle opens the door to his split-level ranch house and looks curiously at me, Lucille, and Sam. “Who are you supposed to be, Lucille?” Uncle Marvin prides himself on his great Halloween costumes. This year he's Shrek. Last year he was Dolly Parton.

“I'm a meter maid, Mr. O'Connor.” Lucille points out the parking tickets pinned to her blouse. “Can't you tell?”

“Oh yeah, now that you mention it,” Uncle Marvin replies. “Very subtle.” He dumps a fistful of M&M's Pretzel bags into each of our pillowcases.

“Who do you think I am, sir?” Sam shows off his Humpty Dumpty costume for Uncle Marvin. “I'll give you a hint—I fell off a wall.”

“Uh . . . One of the Three Stooges, maybe?” Uncle Marvin squints and scratches his head.

“I'm Humpty Dumpty,” Sam says indignantly. “I look just like him. Everybody thinks so.”

“You do. You look just like him, Sam. I don't know what I was thinking.” Uncle Marvin turns his attention to me. His jaw drops and he breathes heavily through his open mouth. “Now there's a Creature from the Black Lagoon if I ever saw one!” he exclaims.

“I'm supposed to be a human, Uncle Marvin,” I explain. “That's how come I'm wearing a hat and a tie and carrying a briefcase.”

“Of course you are,” Uncle Marvin says, and then calls into the house, “Your nephew's here, honey!”

He stands back as my mom's sister, Harriet, races to the door. Short, extremely fat, and naturally rather ogreish herself; she makes a very believable Princess Fiona, Shrek's true love. It takes her a moment to catch her breath.

“My goodness, Charlie, let me take a good look at you!” she pants. “Oh my. Doris was right, Marv, the family resemblance is startling.” She comes over and gives me a big hug. “You're the spitting image of your grandmother, bless her soul. Isn't he, Marv?” She takes out a handkerchief and dabs at her eyes. She looks like she's about to bawl. I guess crying sort of runs in the family.

“He sure does, Harriet. Say, would you kids like to come in for donuts and hot mulled cider?” Uncle Marvin asks.

“We'd love to, Uncle Marvin, but we haven't finished trick-or-treating yet, and I promised Mom we'd be home by seven.” I wave a reluctant good-bye with my tail, and the three of us head off in search of more candy.

Sheets made into ghosts and tied to lampposts flap in the wind. Silhouettes of witches on broomsticks float across windows. We fill our satchels with bags of Moose Munch and chocolate-covered raisins at Mrs. Pagliuso's house. “I like your costume, Charlie,” she says.

“Do you know what I am, Mrs. Pagliuso?”

“I sure do,” she says. “You're a human being. You've been one all along, underneath those claws and flippers, I guess.”

“Thanks, Mrs. P.,” I say. Looks like she's not afraid of me anymore. As we turn to leave, a few fifth-graders dressed as C-3PO, Jabba the Hutt, and Darth Vader approach the house. No one asks for my autograph. Or tries to touch my tail. Or takes pictures of me with their phones.

Tonight I'm just another teenager trying to fit in. One more alien, swimming in a sea of scary creatures. It was fun and exciting to be the new creature on the block. But being yesterday's news is a lot less stressful.

“Better get to bed, Charlie,” Mom yells from upstairs. “It's almost midnight.”

“I'll be up in a few minutes, Mom,” I yell back. “I promise.” Sam and Lucille have gone home and I am watching the last few minutes of
Creature from the Black Lagoon
. We didn't make it all the way through the movie because after dinner we played Bananagrams and didn't sit down to watch until after ten.

“'Night, Charlie,” Dave says as he pokes his head into the den. He just got back from Janie Belzer's house. “Again?” he asks, pointing at the TV. “Can't we find you something else to watch?”

“Are you kidding? I love this movie.” I hold on tightly to the clicker.

“Yeah, but how many times have you seen it?” he asks.

“Not enough,” I reply.

Dave hands me a small framed drawing. “Janie asked me to give you this. She worked on it all week.”

“Thanks,” I say as I take it in my claws. I study the picture carefully. This is me. Forever. Those are my scales. My claws. My tail. My fangs are pretty scary. So are the spiky ridges along my sloping forehead. But there's a mischievous glint in my eyes. And my jaws turn up a little at the edges. If you look really closely you can tell that I am smiling. It will never be a human face. But as mutant dinosaurs go, it's not a bad face. “Janie did a really good job,” I say at last.

“I thought so,” Dave says.

“How are you guys doing?” I set the picture carefully on the coffee table, next to the picture of me and Dave when we went to Epcot a couple of years ago. “I was worried that maybe things were still . . . you know . . . a little rocky . . . on account of me.”

“We're cool. Janie drew a portrait of me, and I sent her flowers.”

“I'm glad.”

“What's the monster doing to her now?” Dave asks, pointing at the television set.

“He's not a monster, Dave, he's a creature. There's a big difference. Monsters hurt people for no reason. Creatures are basically friendly but if you hurt them they'll fight back. So the
creature
has abducted the beautiful Kay Lawrence and taken her to his lair in the cavern. In a few minutes Dr. Maia, Dr. Reed, and Lucas are going to shoot him with their rifles.”

“Doesn't sound like a very happy ending.”

“No. But it's very exciting.” Balthazar walks in and barks a gentle hello. “Up, Bally, up,” I say. Balthazar hops onto the couch with me. He roots around in the cushions with his big brown nose and licks up stray bits of potato chip that have fallen in between. When he is satisfied there aren't any left he puts his big brown shaggy head on my lap and sighs contentedly.

Dave and I both watch the movie for a minute.

“I'm glad you're my brother,” Dave says simply.

“Me too,” I say. He smiles, and then goes upstairs to get ready for bed.

I turn my attention back to the TV. The creature has just been shot. He roars with pain and thrashes around in the jungle until he finds his lagoon. This part always gets me. But tonight his death seems especially poignant. I hold my ears and look away as he falls into the dark abyss.

What's that? I hear footsteps outside the window. Balthazar suddenly growls, and my knees grow weak. He presses his shivering body tightly to my side. I turn off the light next to the couch so I can see better.
Click.

It isn't a shadow. Shadows don't move, and whatever this is, it's definitely moving. I can scarcely catch my breath as I watch a large, shapeless hulk inching from the big evergreen next to the driveway to the bushes near the side of the house.

Of course. It's Sam. I should have known. He went and put on a new costume and came back to terrify me. I bet Lucille put him up to it. “It's just Sam, Balthazar. Or Craig Dieterly. That's it. It's Dieterly. He's returned to teach me a lesson. Let's hope he goes away quickly, Bally.” I wait, motionless, listening for a sign of life from the lawn. I hear nothing but the rustling of leaves in the wind, and some kids giggling in the distance.

And then all of a sudden a car passes and lights up the lawn for a second in the glare of its headlights. I catch a glimpse of two powerful jaws and a pair of dark hooded eyes gleaming back at me in the moonlight. I'm about to scream . . . but then I realize I'm just looking at a reflection of myself in the window. Like my dad always says, if you have a vivid imagination and you go around watching scary movies before you go to bed, you have to be prepared for that sort of thing.

“I'm going to bed, Bally.” It's so late that I'm starting to imagine things. Balthazar hops off the couch and follows me upstairs to my room, never leaving my side, while I brush my fangs and get into my pj's. After I've arranged my covers and squeezed myself into bed, Balthazar jumps up and snuggles peacefully in the crook of my claws.

Mom comes in to give me a good-night hug, and my dad joins her as they wait for me to fall asleep. “I'm not tired, guys,” I say.

“That's because you ate too much sugar,” Dad says.

“I had a really frightening day, Mom. And my night was even worse.” I laugh and I hear Dave stirring.

“Keep it down over there,” my brother complains.

“Sorry, Dave,” I whisper. “I'll shut up. I didn't mean to . . .” My brother is snoring loudly before I have a chance to finish my sentence.

“You just think calm, pleasant thoughts, honey,” Mom says. “It's been a long, hard week.”

I try to keep my eyes open, but when your dog is snuggling in your claws . . . and your mother is stroking your cranial ridge . . . and your father is singing “A Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall” . . . and your big brother is snoring loudly in the next bed . . . it's hard for a seventh-grade creature to stay up for very long.

And before you can say, “I have already had enough adventures to last me for one lifetime and I'm not even halfway through with my story,” I am fast asleep.