Attack of the Mutant Underwear (4 page)

I raised my chin.

“No, not that much. Down a little.”

I lowered my chin.

“Up just a hair.”

I raised my chin a hair.

“Okay,” Photo Guy said.

I thought, Whew! Now would you
please
just take the pic—

“Tilt your head to the left,” said Photo Guy.

I rolled my eyes, but tilted my head to the left.

“No, not that left.” Photo Guy laughed. “The other left.”

I tilted my head in the other direction.

“Too far,” Photo Guy said.

I tilted my head back a little.

“Great!” Photo Guy said.

“Finally,” I muttered.

Photo Guy peered at me through his camera again. “Okay, smile!”

Smile? After all that? I took a deep breath and tried. Zach laughed. “Haw! Look at that cheesy grin!”

I felt myself getting red in the face. I was just about to tell Zach to shut up, when—
poof!
—bright light exploded in my face as Photo Guy's flash went off. I jumped and almost fell off the stool.

Friday, October 13

After all the Old Me bad luck yesterday getting my picture taken, I figured today would be a New Me piece of cake, Friday the thirteenth or not. Until lunch, that is. MC and Jordy were coming out of the cafeteria as my class was going in. When she saw me, MC said, “Look, Cody, my tooth fell out!” She opened really wide. “I've got a window in my mouth!”

Jordy bounced up and down beside her. “I've got a window, too! See?”

From behind me in line Amy said, “I see, Jordy. That's nice!”

After MC and Jordy went skipping off, I asked Amy, “How do you know Jordy?”

She gave me a puzzled look. “He's my brother.”

“Right,” I said, like of course I knew that, just forgot for a second, that's all. But inside I was thinking, Yikes! Jordy's been over at my house a gazillion times, and it never once entered my mind to ask about his family. He was just my pesky little sister's pesky little friend, someone to be ignored. Until he came blasting into my room and saw me dancing around in my … underwear! I really really really don't want Amy to know about that. That would be really really really embarrassing!

Really.

Hoping for some New Me good luck, I said, “Molly and I don't get along very well. We don't talk much. Probably the same with you and Jordy, huh?”

Amy smiled. “No, we get along fine. Talk a lot, too. Jordy tells me
everything.”

Friday the thirteenth. It'll get you every time.

Sunday, October 15

Gotta get rolling on my election speech. Gotta get that ace-brilliant-type-author-guy feeling again. Gotta find my “true voice,” like Ms. B said.

Yep. Gotta.

Only problem is that every time I even think about it, my stomach does an Old Me nosedive to my toes. Think I'll go watch one of the old
Star Wars
movies, instead. Love that sci-fi!

Thursday, October 19

“Hey, Cody, guess what?” Emerson said to me today at recess. He held up a football. “My dad says I'd make a good center, so I've been practicing snapping the ball. I'm getting good. Watch this!”

“Watch this”? Didn't he know? Say those famous last words and something is bound to go wrong.

Sure enough. Emerson grinned and put on his best football announcer's voice: “It's fourth and six. Oregon State has the ball on their own thirty yard line.” He motioned me to get behind him. “Carson is back to punt.” He spread his legs wide and scowled like he was one mean dude on the football field.

“Down! Set!” Emerson yelled, then bent over really fast, just like they do at the beginning of a play. There was a loud ripping sound. Lucky me. I had a perfect view of the seat of Emerson's pants splitting wide open.

Emerson jumped up and slapped his hand over the rip. “Oh no!” He looked around the playground to see if anyone besides me had noticed. Some first graders had stopped playing tag and were looking his way. One of them giggled. “What do I do?” Emerson begged. “Help me, Cody!”

I have to admit that my first thought was an Old Me thought: make myself scarce as fast as possible. Don't be seen anywhere even close to a guy whose underwear is trying to escape.

But then I remembered my fourth-grade play, and I felt sorry for Emerson. So I did the New Me thing: I gave him my jacket to wrap around his waist and hustled him into the building.

No sooner had we gotten inside, though, than there came Zach down the hall. “Quick!” I said. “In here!” I jerked open the nearest door and ducked in, pulling Emerson behind me.

“But Cody!” Emerson said. “This is—”

“Quiet!” I said, my ear to the door. “He'll hear us!”

“But Cody!” Emerson insisted.

“SHHH!” I hissed over my shoulder. “Believe me, you
don't
want Zach to see you like this!” Not to mention that I didn't want Zach to see
me
like that.

The sound of footsteps grew near, then went past. I eased open the door and peered out. No one in sight. “Whew!” I whispered. “All clear!”

“Not exactly,” came a voice from behind us.

Emerson and I both jumped and whirled around to see Amy standing there.
There
being the middle of the girls' bathroom, which BOZO DUFUS ME had ducked us into.

Emerson gasped and slapped his hands over the rip in his pants. Amy's eyebrows went up and a little smile snuck onto the corners of her mouth. I moaned and waited for the laughter. “Haw! Haw!” she'd say, finally letting it all out. “First I saw you in the dressing room at Mattingly's. Then Jordy told me about you dancing in your bedroom. And now your friend's underwear has escaped. Wait until I tell everybody. Haw! Haw!”

But the only thing Amy said was, “Emerson, you've got a problem.”

Emerson tried to speak, but all that came out was a little squeak.

“Don't worry—I can help,” Amy said, “but first we need to move.” And with that, she was hustling us out of the girls' bathroom and next door into the janitor's closet. “Wait here,” she said. “I've still got a needle and thread in my desk from the little quilt I made for my history project. Emerson, you can stitch your pants back up in no time!”

Emerson started to protest. “But, Amy—”

She waved him off. “Be back in a flash!”

Emerson looked around at all the mops and buckets and brooms. “But, Cody,” he said, “I can't sew.”

Guess who ended up doing the repair work while Amy guarded the janitor's closet door? Yep, good ol' New Me. I'm not too bad with a needle and thread, if I do say so myself.

So today I became Cody Lee “Our Hero” Carson for the second time in two weeks! Cool, huh?

Monday, October 23

During math Ralphster tried to escape again, this time by climbing up on the shoe-box house Amy had put in his TV cage. He was halfway out when Emerson happened to spot him.

Emerson nudged me (I was working on my division, like a good political candidate), and pointed and said, “Get him!” So I did, and I was a hero
again.
Which is very presidential, in case you didn't know. Lots of presidents were heroes first. Anyway, Amy thanked me at least ten times, and Ms. B even gave me a hug!

Saturday, October 28

Today was MC's birthday, so we had to have a party. She invited four of her friends—Jordy included, of course—for hot dogs and potato chips and cake. They drank lots of pop, too, and had a burping contest.

Just to make conversation, I asked Jordy how Amy was doing. MC giggled and said, “Cody
loves
Amy!” For a second I gave some serious Old Me thought to smacking her. But then I just let it go. I'm mature. Anyway, I don't love Amy. She's just a friend, that's all.

Sunday, October 29

Carved pumpkins after dinner, then posed with them for a photo. Mom's is especially cool. She calls it Frankenkitty.

Every year I come up with a Halloween plan for scaring trick-or-treaters. Last year in Portland I cut a hole in an old sheet stained with ketchup. I put the sheet over my head, then put on a gross-out mask and sat in Dad's rolling office chair in a dark corner of our front porch. When a little girl came to trick-or-treat, I gave myself a push and rolled out at her, shrieking at the top of my lungs.

Which may sound pretty cool, and it was. I scared her so bad she wet her pants. Only problem is her big brother was out on the front sidewalk, and came charging to his little sister's rescue. Scared me so bad I ended up wetting
my
pants.

Old Me stuff. Yep.

This year, though, is going to be different … if I can just think of a trick.

A really good trick.

That can't backfire.

You see, Amy said she's going to come trick-or-treating at my house.

Monday, October 30

Racked my brain all morning to come up with a Halloween trick for our front porch. Was about to give up. But then in PE we ran laps around the playground, and I was flying along in front of everybody (I'm pretty fast), not thinking about anything in particular and—
pop!
—into my mind came a perfect idea. This is it—the Gotcha Box!

Mom said, “It's a work of pure and staggering genius!” and took me to the appliance store to get a big box.

Tuesday, October 31

All I could think about at school today was getting home to start Halloween. Finally it got dark and I put on my pirate costume (complete with a patch over one eye, fake blood on my face, and a wooden sword), then I lit candles in the jack-o'-lanterns and squeezed into the Gotcha Box. MC (who decided to be my elf assistant) told the first trick-or-treater that showed up (a ghost) to help himself. “Take as much as you want,” she said.

The kid started to haul in a big bunch of candy and—GOTCHA!—I reached up and grabbed him. He let out a big scream and jumped back so fast he almost fell down. Then he laughed and said, “Cool!” Pretty soon bunches of kids were showing up. GOTCHA! GOTCHA! I had them screaming all over the place.

As fun as that was, though, after a while I was ready to load up on goodies for
me.
But as I was crawling out from under the Gotcha Box, I heard some familiar voices coming up the sidewalk—Amy and Libby and Jordy—so I hustled back just in time.

“Where's Cody?” Amy asked MC, coming up onto the porch.

MC covered for me. “Oh, he had to go fix his costume.”

Amy bought it, but was still suspicious, I could tell. She watched Jordy take some candy. I did nothing. Then Libby took some. Again I did nothing. So Amy thought it was all right. She reached for the goodies and I grabbed her wrist and almost pulled her right in. She shrieked so loud I thought someone would call 911.

“Gotcha!” I said, coming out from under the box.

“Cody!” she said, acting like she was mad. But then she laughed. She was dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West from
The Wizard of Oz.
She had a pointy black hat and a broom, and cool striped socks with a hidden button that said “Boo!” when she pressed it.

Libby was dressed as a cafeteria worker, complete with green apron and plastic gloves and a hair net. On a tray she had all sorts of rotten food and fake flies. She kept saying, “Be sure to take some of the creamed corn,” just like they do at school. It was creepy.

Jordy had a bunch of car parts duct-taped to him. “I'm an engine!” he explained. “Watch! I'll start!” He turned his eyelids inside out and said, “Varoom! Scary, huh?” Amy rolled her eyes, and I knew she was thinking the same thing as me: No, just weird.

MC and Jordy started whispering and giggling about me being in love with Amy—WHICH I AM NOT!—so I came after them with a jack-o'-lantern. They just giggled some more.

After they left, it was time to get some sugar for me. I started down the steps when two vampires walked around the corner—Tyler and Zach. So I ducked into the Gotcha Box again and got Tyler good. He liked the box even more than Amy. “Awesome!” he said. “Can I try it?” Zach said, “Me too!” We ended up having a great time taking turns, and I was thinking, Maybe I could be Tyler and Zach's friend.

But then four sixth-grade boys showed up: Whit, Nate, Deshawn, and Theo. I'd seen them before, playing basketball after school at the park. And all of a sudden Zach said my Gotcha Box was for little kids, and they should get out of there and pull some
real
tricks. The next thing I knew, all the guys were gone, and they hadn't invited me, or even said thanks.

I
really
needed some chocolate by then. I'd started down the steps when Dad called, “Nine o'clock, Cody. School night. Remember our agreement?” So I had to go to bed and ended up with only a few pieces of leftover candy corn.

Halloween! Who needs it?

Thursday, November 2

Slept lousy last night. Kept waking up thinking about my speech. Which I still haven't started. And parent conferences. Which are tomorrow. Ms. B will tell Mom and Dad about my C in writing. And those times tables tests I can't seem to pass.