Laugh Till You Cry (3 page)

“What did you tell that cop?” Brad asked.

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “How come he drove you home? What did you tell him about us?”

“None of your business,” Cody answered.

Brad took a step forward, but Cody jumped sideways. “For your information, I told him a couple of jokes,” Cody said. He tried to smirk the way Hayden did, but he wasn’t sure he was doing it right. “He told me they were funny and he paid me five dollars for them.”

“That’s dumb,” Hayden said, and the others laughed. “Do you actually think we’d believe that somebody would pay
you
for telling him a joke?”

“He would. He did. He wants to be a stand-up comic, and he said he needed some good material.”

Hayden joined in the laughter. “Don’t expect us to believe that. He’s not a stand-up comic. He’s a cop.”

“He’s a musician, too. On some weekends he plays sax with a band at a club on Richmond.”

The boys stopped laughing and looked at each other.

“I didn’t think police officers could do anything like … well, you know, anything except be police,” Eddie said.

Cody heard someone call Hayden’s name. He looked up with the others and saw Alma Gomez, the Nortons’ full-time housekeeper, standing on their front porch, waving.

“Come home, Hayden,” Alma shouted. “Your mama wants you. Now.”

Hands on hips, she stood without moving, watching them, and Cody breathed a sigh of relief. Hayden wouldn’t try doing anything he shouldn’t in front of Alma.

“Give me my book,” Cody told Hayden, but Hayden tucked it inside his shirt and made a dash for home.

Brad and Eddie ran off in the opposite direction.

There was nothing for Cody to do but to follow Hayden to his house. The Nortons’ front door was shut by the time Cody arrived, so he rang the bell.

Alma answered and smiled at him. “Hi, Cody. Can you come back later? Hayden’s going out to dinner with his mama and dad, and he’s supposed to get ready.”

Desperate to get his book back, Cody said, “I’ll just be a minute. I need to get my book for English class from Hayden.”

Alma stepped aside, allowing Cody to walk into the beautiful entry hall, with its highly polished wood and curved staircase to the second floor.

Hayden appeared at the top of the stairs. He leaned on the banister and grinned down at Cody. “I don’t have your book, dork,” he said. “You must have left it at school.”

Cody gulped. He had to get his book back. But how? He couldn’t fight Hayden for it. Hayden would have him down flat and would be sitting on him within two minutes. He’d already done it more than once.

Cody took a deep breath and smiled at Alma. “I know where I left my book,” he said. “In the clubhouse in the backyard. I’ll just run out and get it.”

“Okay,” Alma said.

“No! It’s not okay! Nobody goes in that clubhouse!”
Hayden ran down a dozen steps, but Alma held up a hand.

“Cody needs his book. He knows where it is. There’s no reason why he can’t go there and get it.”

For just an instant Cody caught a flash of what seemed to be alarm in Hayden’s eyes. Then Hayden slipped the book out from under his shirt. “Hey, Cody, you know I was kidding about your book being at school. Here it is. I found it where you dropped it and was just about to take it over to Grandma’s to give it to you.”

He tossed the book high in the air, and Cody scrambled to catch it. “Thanks,” he said, aware that Alma was paying attention.

“Anytime,” Hayden answered.

Alma looked at her watch. “Hayden, you better hurry. Your mama isn’t going to like your being late.”

“Thank you,” Cody said, smiling at Alma. Clutching his book tightly, he hurried out the door and across the lawn to his grandmother’s house.

He puzzled over the look on Hayden’s face when the clubhouse had come up. There was obviously something inside the shed that Hayden didn’t want anyone to see. Cody couldn’t help wondering—what could it be?

Cody was sitting at the kitchen table, bent over the page in front of him, scowling, when his mother came into the room. As she opened the refrigerator and took out a package of lamb chops, she stopped to study him. “Why the unhappy face?”

“It’s not just my face that’s unhappy. It’s all of me,” Cody said. “Why did Shakespeare make everything he wrote so confusing? Why didn’t he just write in plain English?”

“He did. It’s the way the English language was spoken at that time.”

“Too bad for me,” Cody said.

“You’re getting into Shakespeare a little early,” Mrs. Carter said. “I think I was in tenth grade when our class read
Hamlet.
”

“Ms. Jackson loves Shakespeare. She said the sooner we learned to enjoy the poetry in his writing, the better.” Cody made a face.

“Everybody reads Shakespeare sooner or later.”

“Later sounds a lot better than sooner.”

Mrs. Carter put the chops on the broiler tray and sprinkled them with garlic salt. “Do you remember when I rented the movie version of
Hamlet
? Maybe you’d like to see it again.”

“No thanks. It was bad enough the first time. I knew it wasn’t going to be a success or make any money.”

“How could you know that?”

“There couldn’t be a sequel. Everybody died in the end.”

Mrs. Carter smiled and shook her head. “Exactly what bothers you about the play?” she asked.

“For one thing,” Cody answered, “Hamlet goes around talking to himself all the time.”

“When he talks to himself, it’s called a soliloquy.”

“Whatever it’s called, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. When Ms. Jackson reads what he says and asks what it means, I’m completely lost.”

Mrs. Carter set the broiler timer, pulled out a chair facing Cody, and sat, propping her elbows on the table. “Maybe you should approach this in a different way. Instead of translating each word, try to understand the character of Hamlet.”

“What’s there to understand? I think he’s a nutcase.”

“He has been called ‘the melancholy Dane.’ ”

“How come people from Denmark are called Danes? Shouldn’t they be called Dens? Or Marks? I mean, I’ve heard of Great Danes, but they’re dogs, and—”

“Stop trying to make a joke, Cody,” his mother said. “Now think about why Hamlet is melancholy. He’s lost his father.”

“I lost mine, too,” Cody said quietly. It had been four years since his father got sick and died.

“I know,” Mrs. Carter said, “I miss your dad, too. It’s been hard lately, especially now with Grandma …” Mrs.
Carter reached across the table and patted Cody’s arm. “But that’s why you might really find Hamlet’s problems interesting.”

She straightened and took a long, deep breath. “Now, let’s get back to your homework. Remember, Hamlet knows he’s the rightful heir and should rule Denmark, but his uncle Claudius has stolen control of both the kingdom and Hamlet’s mother, the queen. Claudius wasted no time marrying Gertrude after the king’s death. On top of all that, the ghost of Hamlet’s father has appeared and told Hamlet that Claudius was the one who murdered him. The ghost wants Hamlet to avenge his death. It’s a lot for Hamlet to handle. Not just the loss of his father—his life as he knew it. Everything is changed violently. Can you understand why Hamlet is sad and confused?”

“Do you think being sad is a good enough reason to go around whacking people and talking to a weird old skull in the cemetery and himself?”

Cody’s mother rested her chin on her hands and sighed. “I suppose. I think poor Hamlet’s feelings must have been unbearable.”

The bell in Mrs. Norton’s room sounded, and Mrs. Carter began to rise wearily. But Cody jumped up, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Stay here, Mom,” he said. “I’ll go find out what Grandma needs.”

As he hurried into his grandmother’s bedroom, she looked up at him from her pillows and smiled. “Just the person I wanted to see,” she said. “You were going to come and talk to me about
Hamlet.
I’ve been waiting for you.”

Cody sat on the small chair next to the bed. “Mom and I were just talking about that. Mom said Hamlet was unbearably sad. Do you think that’s why he acted the way he did?”

“Oh, he was sad, all right,” Mrs. Norton said. “But I believe that most of his actions were a result of the terrible things that had happened to him. He wasn’t thinking normally. In the language of our times, he was mentally disturbed.”

“Does that mean you think he was crazy?”

“His actions certainly were not normal.”

Cody sighed. He was getting nowhere. His mom and grandmother couldn’t even agree on what
Hamlet
was all about. He remembered that Hamlet, in one of his soliloquies, wished that his “too too solid flesh would melt.” Cody also wished it had—along with the whole darned play.

“Would you like to get your book and read some of it to me?” Mrs. Norton asked.

Cody sighed. “It’s hard for me to understand the play in the first place. If it’s such a great play, you’d think people would agree on why Hamlet did the things he did.”

Mrs. Norton smiled eagerly. “That’s why the play is so much fun to discuss. Is Hamlet hero or victim? We can’t view Hamlet, or anyone else for that matter, as totally good or totally bad.”

“My dad could have figured it out,” Cody said. “When Dad went before the court, he had to prove that the defendant was wrong. That’s what an attorney does all the time.”

“Your dad was proving only that the defendant was wrong in one particular case. Now, if you’ll get your book …”

That was the last thing Cody wanted to do. He changed the subject. “Grandma,” he blurted, “tell me about Uncle Austin and Aunt Rosalie. Even though they live right next door to you, it seems like they’re always either out or going out. I hardly ever see them. I know
Uncle Austin is Mom’s older brother, but I don’t know much else.”

Mrs. Norton looked surprised. “I guess Austin and Rosalie do stay busy most of the time. Austin is a very successful attorney. His type of work is different from what your father did. He works long hours and travels all over the world. Rosalie’s volunteer jobs at the hospital and the Museum of Fine Arts take up a great deal of her time. And, of course, together and separately they have important social engagements. I understand and don’t expect them to change their lives for me. It’s only recently that I’ve needed some help.”

Cody remembered overhearing his mom say on the phone, “If Rosalie could stop going to so many luncheons and parties, she could help take care of my mother.”

Cody had had dinner with the Nortons shortly after he and his mom had arrived in Houston. Aunt Rosalie had asked him a question right after he’d taken a bite of roast beef. Cody remembered chewing fast and gulping before he answered.

“Hayden, dear, I hope you’re noticing what good table manners Cody has,” Aunt Rosalie had said. “Unlike you and your friends, Cody does not talk with his mouth full.”

She’d smiled approvingly at Cody and added, “I’ve pointed out to Hayden that he could use you as a good example, Cody. You always remember to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ too.”

Hayden glared at Cody, who wished he could slide under the table. Maybe he should tell them that his mom drilled him before every family visit about what to say and do, under penalty of being grounded forever.

Aunt Rosalie began describing how they were going to decorate the luncheon tables at a fund-raising party
she was in charge of. Cody was no longer of interest to her, but she’d only added to Hayden’s bad attitude.

“Uncle Austin and Aunt Rosalie don’t come over here very often, do they?” Cody asked his grandmother. He pressed his lips together tightly, wishing he hadn’t been so blunt.

“No, but since I retired from teaching, I’ve spent a great deal of time with their sons, your cousins.” Mrs. Norton smiled. “I miss Bennett, although I’m sure he’s enjoying his first year at Harvard. I miss Hayden, too. I don’t see him nearly as often as I used to. He’s busy with school and sports. I can understand that.”

He’s busy with his thug buddies
, Cody thought. “Have you ever been in Hayden’s clubhouse?”

“Not since he turned it into a clubhouse,” Mrs. Norton answered. “It began life as a potting shed and a place to protect plants that couldn’t take the winter freezes. I think Austin still uses it for gardening and keeps some tools and fertilizer in it, but I suppose there’s plenty of space to add a few chairs and whatever else a clubhouse needs.” She studied Cody. “Hasn’t Hayden invited you into the clubhouse yet?”

“Not exactly,” Cody said.

“I’m sure he will. Give him a little time,” Mrs. Norton said. “It makes me happy to realize that you and Hayden will finally get to know each other as friends, as well as cousins. You’re in some of the same classes, and you can enjoy the school activities together. The football season should be starting soon, shouldn’t it?”

“There’s a game on Friday.”

Mrs. Norton’s smile was so bright that Cody gulped. His mother was right. There was no way he could let his grandmother know what a no-good bully Hayden was.
And he couldn’t really complain to her about having to be in Texas. She was his grandmother.

Cody struggled to think of the right thing to say. He was saved by his mother’s appearance in the doorway. Bustling past him to the bed, she said, “Mom, your dinner’s almost ready. Let me prop you up against your pillows. Cody, wash up and head for the kitchen.”

“Cody, after you’ve eaten, come back and bring your book. We’ll go over your reading assignment,” Mrs. Norton said.

“Thanks, Grandma. See you later,” Cody answered, and left the room. But at the door to the kitchen, he paused.

Lamb chops and
Hamlet
lay ahead of him. He could handle the lamb chops, even though they were not his favorite things to eat. But
Hamlet
? How was he ever going to manage that?

In the morning Cody’s mother handed him her cell phone. “Grandma’s doctor is going to call later today, after he’s seen the results of her latest blood test,” she said. “There’s a good chance he might give her a prescription for a new medication he’s thinking of trying. Call me right after school. You know where the drugstore is, right down on Westheimer. You can stop by and pick it up on your way home.”