**EDIT: Added Ricky's mom asking him how school was so him saying doesn't come out of nowhere and replaced "comments" with reviews".

Book: Calling All Creeps!

Summary: Ricky's first story for the newspaper is an unpublished one.

Based on this passage:

Do you know the first story she asked me to write? She asked me to count the dirt patches in the playground and write about why grass didn't grow there.

I knew she was just trying to get me out of the office. But I wrote the story anyway. It's hard to write a good story about dirt patches. But I did a really good job. My story was five pages long!

She never printed it in the paper.

When I asked her why, she said, "Who cares about dirt patches?"

"Dirt patches?"

Tasha McClain typed furiously in the keyboard in front of her, immersed in her computer, a frown etched on her face.

"Dirt patches?"

A bit of her curly red hair fell in front of her face. She seethed slightly as she pulled it back in place.

"Dirt-"

"Ricky, are you going to do the story or not?" Tasha snapped. She slowed her typing, but didn't look up from the computer.

"Why do you want me to do a story about something as boring as dirt patches?" I cried.

"If you don't want to do it, that's fine," said Tasha, a smug tone creeping into her voice. "You don't have to join the writing team if you don't want-"

I knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to get rid of me.

She had just assigned me to write a story about the dirt patches on the playground and why grass didn't grow there. I had joined the school writing team a few days ago. I needed the activity points so I could graduate from sixth grade. But the head of the team, Tasha, seemed to have something against me.

Actually, the whole school seemed to have something against me. I'm not sure why.

I mean, look at me. I'm normal. Normal-looking. A normal student. Normal person. Nothing to run home about, but nothing to revile at in disgust either. If you squinted a little, you'd even almost call me cute, right?

Okay, let's not get sickening.*

"No. I'll do it," I interrupted. "When is it due?"

Tasha finally looked up, slight surprise in her eyes. "Next Monday," she said flippantly.

Then she busied herself with typing again.

Very polite.**

"I guess I'll leave now?"

More typing.

I left.

Next Monday...

I was not having a good day. At all.

First Jared, Brenda, David and Wart through milk cartons and pudding cups at me in lunch. Two weeks at this school, and I still haven't learned to dodge. Then Brenda tripped me over and the entire lunchroom laughed at me. She probably said something about me being a rat, but I wasn't listening.

Then, in class, David tripped me. And the entire class laughed at me, even the teacher.***

So all in all, an average day.

Thrills and chills, huh?****

I had completed my report on dirt patches that was due today. It was five pages long. I had strained to include every possible detail. I mean, every possible detail. I'm not so sadistic as to bore you with every step of my thrilling journalism, though.*****

But the story had never made it into the newspaper. I wasn't really surprised, but I asked her why anyway.

She practically sneered at me. "Who cares about dirt patches?" she said.

"But-" I sighed. "You asked me to write that story. You-"

Tasha rolled her eyes. "Boo hoo," she said. She snickered. "Why don't you just leave the writing team, if it bothers you that much?"

Again, I knew what she was trying to do.

"Leave?" I said, in what I hoped was a confident voice. "Who says anything about leaving?" The truth was, I wanted to leave. But I needed those activity points.

Tasha snickered again. "Whatever you say, Sicky Ricky."

Then she turned around as if I had never existed.

What's her problem? I thought.

As I was walking home from school, my four enemies - Jared, Brenda, David and Wart - spied on me and jumped out at me. They roughed me up a little. You know. A bruise or two. Nothing too bad.******

When I reached home, it had started to rain. My mom was hunched over the cutting board on the kitchen table in an apron, slicing turnips while a pot radiating with steam sat next to the board.******* That surprised me. Although Mom can cook, she never does, because most of the time she's too busy, so her and Dad usually just grab takeout from a restaurant.********

That's why I don't tell her about my school problems. No need to worry her when she's already busy, right?

She looked up at me, smiling. Her soft brown hair was in a braid over her shoulder that was almost completely loose from the hairband. Her forehead was all sweaty. "Hi, Ricky. How was school?"

It was awful. I hate it here. The kids do nothing but make fun of me. I don't want to go back. I can't go back. Please don't make me, Mom!

"It was okay," I said. "Kind of boring."*********

*Quote stolen from Planet of the Lawn Gnomes. (You'd almost call me cute - let's not get sickening.)

** and *****: See how Ricky's sort of developed snark as a coping mechanism?

***: Fulfilled the "entire class laughs at the protagonist, even the teacher" quota.

****: Fulfilled the "thrills and chills" quota. Also, again, Ricky, snark, coping mechanism.

******: I don't think Ricky's bullies beat him up that much - or at least, not too badly. The most they gave him was a bruise or two (unlike Gary and Evan's bullies from Why I'm Afraid of Bees and the Monster Blood series).

******* and ********: Woah, those were two complex sentences for a Goosebumps book! I'll have to use a lot of fragmented sentences and one-sentence paragraphs to make up for that.

*********Quote stolen from Monster Blood III.

Pretty boring story, I know.

Did I do a good enough job of replicating Stine's writing style, or did I not include enough fragmented sentences and descriptions of people's appearance and clothing? Let me know, along with your opinion on Calling All Creeps! and anything else you would like to share in the reviews!