50 - Calling All Creeps! by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead) Page B

back. Then she asked me to show Iris
around the school during the day. You know. Point out where the lunchroom is and
all the bathrooms and everything.
    I nearly cried out in surprise. Why did Ms. Williamson pick me? I guess it
was because Iris just happened to be sitting right next to me.
    I heard a couple of kids laugh. And I heard someone mutter, “Sicky Ricky.”
    Kids in my class are always on my case. I hoped that Iris didn’t hear them.
    I admit it. I wanted to impress her. I liked having someone new to talk to,
someone who didn’t know that everyone thought I was a loser.
    At lunchtime I walked Iris downstairs to the lunchroom. I told her about how
new the school was. And how when we moved in for the first time, hot water came
out of all the cold water faucets, and cold water came out of the hot.
    She thought that was pretty funny. I liked the way her earrings jangled when
she laughed.
    She asked me if I was on any sports teams.
    “Not yet,” I answered.
    Not in a million years! I thought.
    Whenever guys are choosing up teams on the playground, the captains always
fight over who gets me. It’s always:
    “ You take him!”
    “No fair! You have to take him!”
    “No. You take him! We had him last time!”
    I’m not exactly a super jock.
    “This is the lunchroom,” I told Iris, leading the way through the door. I
instantly felt really dumb. I mean, what else could it be? The band room?
    As soon as I entered, I saw my four enemies at their usual table in the
middle of the room. I call them my four enemies because… they’re my four
enemies!
    Their names are Jared, David, Brenda, and Wart. Wart’s name is really Richard
Wartman. But everyone calls him Wart—even the teachers.
    These four seventh-graders are always making fun of me. When they’re not
making fun of me, they’re trying to injure me!
    I don’t know what their problem is. I never did anything to them. I guess
they pick on me because I’m easy to pick on.
    I grabbed two food trays and guided Iris to the food counter. “This is hot
food over here,” I explained. “No one ever eats the hot food unless it’s pizza
or hamburgers.”
    Iris flashed me a nice smile. “Just like at my old school,” she said.
    “Be sure to stay away from the macaroni,” I warned. “No one ever eats the
macaroni. We think they serve the same macaroni all year. See that crust on top?
Whoever heard of macaroni with a crust?”
    Iris laughed. I brushed back my hair. I wondered if she liked me.
    We both picked up sandwiches and bags of potato chips. I put a bowl of red and green Jell-O and a bottle of
kiwi-strawberry drink on my tray. “The cashier is over here,” I told Iris.
    I showed Iris how you hand your food ticket to the cashier and get it
punched. I was feeling pretty good. I think Iris was impressed by all my helpful
instructions.
    I spotted a couple of seats at a table near the window. I motioned to them
with my head. Then I started through the crowded, noisy room, holding my tray
high in both hands.
    Of course I didn’t see Wart stick his foot out.
    I tripped over it. Fell forward. And my whole tray went flying.
    I hit the floor in time to look up and see the red and green Jell-O bound
across a table and onto a girl’s lap. The rest of my food slid over the floor.
    Kids laughed and cheered and clapped.
    “There goes Ricky!” someone exclaimed. “Ricky Rat! Ricky Rat!”
    Wart and his three pals started chanting: “Sicky Ricky… Sicky Ricky!”
    I glanced up and saw Iris laughing too.
    I just wanted to disappear.
    My face suddenly felt burning hot. I knew I was blushing.
    What am I going to do? I thought, lying there on my stomach. I really
can’t take this any longer.
    What can I do?

 
 
3
     
     
    After school I made my way to the eighth-grade classrooms at the end of the
building. The school newspaper office is in Ms. Richards’ room.
    Ms. Richards sat at her desk, grading papers. As I stepped into the doorway,
she glanced