Geeked Out

  Once a month, the government delivers school supplies to WADD by drone. They fly up above our town in waves and drop off things like paper and pens and emergency flares to schools and other workplaces.

  Because Darth Susan is the school secretary, she’s in charge of dividing up the supplies and splitting them evenly among the teachers. It’s supposed to be a simple thing. Unfortunately, Darth Susan enjoys seeing people in battle, so she holds what she calls a Supply War. It’s like a football game, but with fewer rules, and school supplies instead of a ball. The teachers take on the Jocks, and the team who scores the most gets to keep all of the supplies for that month. The winning team also gets to stand on a podium at the end of the war game and bust open a piñata that’s shaped like our school mascot and made out of old homework and garbage.

  The whole event is really dumb. Plus, Darth Susan cheats. She always makes sure that the Jocks win, and when they do, they turn all of the supplies over to her. That way she can continue to control every tablet and piece of paper in the school.

  The Staffers have no chance of winning. Not with the dirty tricks Darth Susan pulls. Last month she made sure that the Staffers’ uniforms shrank before the game so it was hard for them to lift their arms. A month earlier, the Staffers were given spoiled doughnuts before the game, and they all threw up.

  And the month before that, the Staffers were informed that if they wanted to get paid, they had to lose. No teacher at WADD can afford to have their salary cut by even a single chicken.

  So the Staffers pretend to try, but they always lose.

  The whole school is forced to attend the Supply War whether we want to or not. It’s held on the weed-covered football field, and we all sit on the rusty bleachers. Darth Susan thinks that if we view the game we’ll see just how hard it is to get supplies. That way we’ll be more grateful for the few things we might eventually end up with.

  This time, however, the Supply War was going to end a bit differently than usual. True, we Geeks didn’t like to mess with people, but eventually you have to put a stop to stupidity, and Nerf was stupid times ten thousand.

  “Does that mean we’re going to have to depants his head and show the world what he really is?” Owen asked.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Mindy said. “Let’s just be excited. Nerf asked for this, and on a scale of one to ten, I’m eight-point-seven pumped.”

  Owen gulped, Xen whimpered, and I took a couple of extra pumps of my inhaler. Mindy was the bravest member of our group. She was different from most girls at our school. Not only was she super smart, she loved things like bugs and books, and hated the Sand Thrower series.

  We’re pretty glad that Mindy’s a member of the AV Club. I probably shouldn’t say this, but I think she flirts with me sometimes. For example, last week, right after she and I had taught a couple of Staffers how to use their tablets, she turned to me and said,

  That’s flirting, right?

  I guess we kind of have a thing. Just don’t tell Owen or Xen, because I think they think that she has a thing for them. Some people are so naïve, which is an above-average way of saying Owen and Xen are fooling themselves and I’m not.

  I checked the time on my phone.

  “We’d better get going,” I said.

  It wouldn’t be long now before the Supply War began, and we needed to have our stuff in place.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  All three of my friends nodded. We were greased up and raring to go.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Dark Arts

  The AV Club played a small role in setting up for the Supply War. We did only one thing, and that was make sure there was a working microphone on the stage at the north end of the football field. The microphone was for Darth Susan to talk into, and setting it up was an easy job that also gave us access to the field before everyone arrived.

  “Nerf’s going to remember this day forever,” I whispered with excitement.

  “The smell of the grease is making me hungry,” Owen whispered back.

  When we got to the field, Tyler, the janitor, was standing by the gate. Tyler had been assigned by the government to clean our outpost. The problem is that he’s not very good at cleaning. Even some of the simplest tasks confuse him. He’s not the hardest worker, either, and he scares the grease out of me.

  Tyler was also supposed to guard the gate and make sure that nobody brought any backpacks or other bags onto the field. But just like cleaning, he stunk at the job. We bribed him with the muffin Mindy had smuggled from the lunchroom and then invited him to go eat it somewhere else.

  “You’re welcome to go eat it in private,” I suggested. “We’ll watch the field.”

  Tyler always wears a trash can over his head. Everyone thinks he’s hiding something, but I heard it’s because he’s embarrassed about being bald. He stuck the muffin up into his trash can and took a big sniff.

  “Yum, plain flavored.”

  Tyler walked off to eat his new bribe. The muffin really wasn’t necessary, because he usually had no problem leaving us alone on the field. He trusted us because we were Geeks, and according to all the movies Tyler had ever seen, geeks rarely did anything mischievous.

  Today that was going to change.

  The four of us walked across the field, leaking grease and making our way to the platform on the north end. Once we got there, it took only a couple of seconds to hook up the microphone and get the generator running. Then we hid under the platform and waited for the Dark Arts Club to arrive.

  The Dark Arts Club always makes the celebratory WADD piñata. Their name is deceiving because they don’t actually dabble in the dark arts. They’re just a group of students who are into regular arts. But since our school never gets things like paints or markers, and because Darth Susan doesn’t like creativity, kids in Dark Arts have to paint with charcoal, old coffee grounds, and used toner. Which means that all of their paintings are a bit dark.

  The Dark Arts Club makes the piñata because papier-mâché is a kind of art. The piñata is ugly, waddish, and sad-looking. It’s also filled with old homework that’s been shredded into confetti-size pieces, and it’s hung up over the platform so that it’s ready to shower the winners of the Supply War with glory.

  As expected, two Dark Arters arrived on time to hang up their creation. From below the platform we could hear them talking.

  I took out my phone and quickly sent a text to Peter, the leader of the Dark Arts. I heard his phone beep when he received my text. He seemed overly surprised that someone was trying to contact him.

  “Who’s texting you?” Peter’s friend asked. “I’ve never heard you get a message.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Only my mom texts me and she’s busy foraging for batteries near the old hardware store.”

  Peter read the text aloud and cheered. I guess he liked what he saw.

  “We gotta go,” Peter said excitedly.

  They hung up the piñata in record time while chattering about how pumped they were at the possibility of real art supplies. As soon as the piñata was in place, they ran off, leaving us alone under the platform.

  “So far, so good,” I whispered to my friends.

  We quickly climbed out from under the stage, and Xen stood guard while Owen and I lowered the piñata back down. I untied it and held it in my arms.

  Owen took out a pair of safety scissors his little sister had scored last week at her elementary school supply assembly. He started to cut a hole in the top of the piñata.

  “I’m nervous,” Xen whispered while still on the lookout. “I think I’m about to hyperventilate. And my body temperature is off by three degrees.”

  “Yeah,” Owen added as he finished cutting the opening. “My ankles are sweating like mad. Maybe we should just run away and pretend like we were never going to do this.”

  “We can’t stop,” I said, trying to sound brave. “Owen, do you remember when Nerf pantsed you in front of the girls’ competitive trench-digging
team?”

  “The girls still call me Grandpa Panties,” Owen sniffled.

  “And you, Mindy—didn’t Nerf keep making fun of you during your last bad hair day?”

  “It wasn’t my fault. I ran out of styling gel, so I had to use tree sap.”

  “And, Xen, remember when Nerf stole your glasses and underwear from your gym locker and welded your glasses onto the statue in the park?”

  Xen nodded with humiliation.

  “We have to do this,” I said, using my bravest voice.

  We took the grease out and poured it into the opening. The smelly stuff oozed in, covering the confetti and filling the entire wad. Xen plugged up the top of the piñata, and as a team we retied it and hoisted it back up above the platform. It was not easy to lift. By my calculations, it weighed 27.3 pounds. And we aren’t exactly the strongest kids in school—we’re like the opposite of buff, which is biff. Still, we huffed and puffed and pulled until it was back up and hanging in its spot.

  I could tell we were scared because my heart was beating like mad and Owen’s breathing sounded like a science experiment on the verge of an explosion. Even though I was nervous, I was also excited. I had never pulled a practical joke on anyone. Plenty of jokes had been played on me, but now it was my time to be practically joking.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Supply War

  At one o’clock, the students began storming through the open gate and took their places on the bleachers. We sat down at the spot reserved for Geeks. Once both sides of the benches were filled, Darth Susan stepped up onto the platform and took hold of the microphone.

  Usually this was the most nerve-racking part of the Supply War for us. After all, it was the AV Club’s job to make sure the microphone worked. If it didn’t, we would be held personally responsible and forced to work the weed fields behind the school.

  “Attention, dear students,” Darth Susan said. “Everyone please calm down.”

  Nobody did.

  Everyone stopped making noise and looked on with fear. I didn’t like hearing her screech at us, but I was relieved that the microphone worked. And since the microphone worked, the Supply War could begin. And since the Supply War could begin, Nerf could win. And when Nerf won, it would be a storm of grease and confetti raining on him.

  “This is crazy, Tip,” Xen said. “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

  “It’s like something Nerf would do,” Mindy added. “He does stuff like this all the time.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “We’re giving him a taste of his own medicine.”

  “My medicine tastes like peppermint chalk,” Xen added needlessly.

  Xen is the newest member of the AV Club. He came to our school last year after his father got a job working for the government here in Piggsburg. He is incredibly smart, but also insecure about not being as tall as the rest of us. He ties books to his feet to make himself a bit taller and wears old cookie sheets on his chest for protection. It is nice having him around. One of his biggest contributions to our AV Club was when he designed the logo for us. Now he always has it painted on his outfits.

  Darth Susan kept talking into the microphone. She said a bunch of things about how great our school was and how lucky we were to have a place to get educated. She talked about the state of our society and how it was an honor and a privilege to get school supplies these days. She then said a few words about the Staffers who would be trying to win some supplies for themselves. I looked over at the teachers. They were lined up on one side of the field, looking unhappy and defeated before the game had even begun.

  Darth Susan gave a little speech about Nerf and the Jocks and how brave they were to be fighting for us, the students. As she spoke, the Jocks took the field while the school band blew the few instruments they had. Everyone in the bleachers stomped and cheered.

  I wanted to boo, but even in these times of chaos and distress, I still have a hard time not using good manners. So maybe I didn’t boo, but I did stand my ground by not clapping. I was like that ancient Scottish guy who once fought for freedom by doing something. Of course, I don’t know what it was he did exactly because our teachers had never won any history books in any of the Supply Wars to teach us properly.

  The referee for the Supply War was Mr. Upwonder. All he did during the game was blow a whistle and beg the Jocks to stop running so fast or scoring so often.

  Mr. Upwonder walked out to the middle of the field, looked up into the sky, and blew his whistle twice.

  A large drone flew in over the field and released a bundle of supplies that dropped to the ground with a small parachute.

  Everyone cheered as the goods hit the field.

  From what I could see, it looked like a decent assortment of supplies this month. There were reams of paper and bundles of rubber bands. There were also some books and charge cords and even a few tablets.

  “Looks like a good load,” Mindy yelled.

  “I’ll say,” I yelled back. “I think I see a six-pack of Sharpies.”

  Mr. Upwonder picked up a ream of paper from the pile and carried it out to the middle of the field. He placed it on the tee and stepped back. From the stage Darth Susan yelled,

  Upwonder blew his whistle again, and all the Jocks ran down the field. Nerf kicked off the first pack of paper to the Staffers.

  Not to stick up for Nerf, but it’s actually really hard to kick a pack of paper. It went about two feet, and Nerf picked it up and ran the rest of the way down the field for a touchdown.

  The game didn’t get any more exciting than that. The Jocks kicked off a box of tape and then the teachers caught it. Mr. Rack, the Lifestyle-Deathstyle teacher, fumbled the tape, and Weasel took it in for a touchdown. They kept kicking things and then knocking Staffers over. In less than twenty minutes, Nerf and his team had scored all of the supplies and the teachers were defeated.

  Darth Susan stepped up to the microphone and instructed Nerf to come up onto the stage and break the ceremonial WADD piñata.

  This was it!

  Nerf strutted his way to the platform.

  Everyone in the bleachers cheered as if he had actually done something more impressive than just kicking tape and pens around to win a bunch of supplies for Mrs. Susan. Now she would make the Staffers do all sorts of embarrassing things if they ever wanted new pencils or textbooks.

  Nerf climbed up onto the platform, and Darth Susan handed him the sacred wadd-beating stick.

  I looked over at Owen—he was sweating and shaking. He reminded me of Dindo the elf king from the Elf Scrimmage role-playing game. He was the main elf, but he was always sweating and shaking because everything scared him.

  I felt queasy, but I had to keep reminding myself that we were about to right a ton of wrongs with a piñata full of grease.

  Nerf stepped up onto a small box below the piñata. He smiled at the crowd and then flexed his muscles. Typical Nerf. Some girls swooned while some boys felt bad about themselves. He lifted the stick o’ celebration over his head and prepared to swing. Mindy closed her eyes, and Owen bit his nails. I couldn’t look away—I wanted to see that grease cover him like the dumb double log he was.

  Nerf started to swing and then …

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sabotage!

  He stopped? He stopped swinging? What was going on?

  The crowd gasped in surprise.

  “What’s happening?” Xen asked.

  “I have no idea why he didn’t hit it,” I answered.

  It made no sense for Nerf to pause—he loved cracking open the piñata. It was his thing. He always cracked it open and then did a stupid chicken dance.

  “Maybe he’s just repositioning his hands on the stick,” Owen suggested. “You know, in preparation for taking an extra-big swing.”

  Nerf stepped down off the box, smiling like he had swallowed something incredibly delicious. Darth Susan nodded and handed him the microphone.

  “Fellow students,” he said loudly.

 
The crowd began to murmur.

  “I know we won the Supply War,” Nerf continued. “And this is the part where I usually beat the snot out of the piñata. But today is gonna be different.”

  “What’s going on?” Xen said as he began to sweat like Owen and Dindo.

  My stomach did the kind of flips my body would never be capable of doing in real life.

  I was pretty lame.

  I wasn’t very good at sports.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my head felt dizzy.

  “So,” Nerf continued, “Mrs. Susan would like the … Geeks of the AV Club to have the honor of splitting the wadd today.”

  Everyone turned to look at us. Most of the groups in school had certain sections in the bleachers where they sat during the Supply War—the Goths sat where it was shadiest, the Loners sat up high in the far corner, and the Sox sat on the bottom row so that they could slide their hands and feet against the rails. Us Geeks sat near the bottom of the bleachers next to the port-a-potties. That way we could be close to the platform if we needed to assist with the microphone. Also it put us near the bathroom, which helps Xen take care of his relaxed bladder if he needs to.

  The crowd began to boo.

  Apparently they were not happy about the thought of us Geeks breaking the piñata. Most students had the same kind of lukewarm feelings for us that Nerf did.

  The crowd moaned and hollered while I tried to process what was happening. We break the piñata? We break the piñata full of grease? We break the piñata in front of our whole school?

  “Come on up here, Tip,” Nerf ordered. “And bring your friends.”

  All four of us stayed seated in the bleachers and shook our heads.