by Tom Birdseye
Maybe I’ll do my next survey on boogers. I could ask how often people pick their nose. And why they do it. And which finger they use. Index? Pinky? And what they do with it afterward. Then again, maybe I won’t.
Got 100 on my history test. I may not know a lot about boogers, but anything you want to learn about the Civil War, just ask!
Thursday, December 7
Another cool survey idea from ace-brilliant-type-Question-Man: growing up, as in …
—What do you want to be when you grow up? (A pro basketball player)
—Are you looking forward to growing up? (Yeah! Then I can drive a car! And eat dessert first.)
—How do you know when you’re grown up? (No more pimples, I’d say. And no one tells you what to do.)
Friday, December 8
Today at recess Libby drew a button on the back of each finger. She made a fist and went around asking the girls in our class to pick a button and push it. When they did, she’d unfold that finger and there was the name of the boy they’d marry. When Libby got to Amy, all the girls started hooting really loud. Amy looked embarrassed.
I wonder which boys Libby had written on her fingers.
By the way, Amy wants to be a veterinarian when she grows up. Libby, a lawyer. Tyler, a teacher. Zach, a race car driver, “or a squirrel poop inspector.” Emerson—big surprise here!—an actor.
Saturday, December 9
Great weather today. No rain. Sun even came out and dried up the sidewalk.
Which MC and Jordy figured was in need of decoration. They got colored chalk and were out there all afternoon, which made for peace and quiet inside. It wasn’t until I headed over to the park to shoot some hoops that I saw what they’d been doing. In big block letters, stretching from our house to the corner, were the words CODY LOVES AMY!!!
I chased them around the house three times, but they kept slipping into the bushes and squirming away. Little worms! In the end I had to get the garden hose out of the garage and hook it back up, then turn the nozzle on full blast to wipe out what they kept calling their “art.” Even then you could still see it, though.
For once I’ll be really glad when it starts raining again.
Getting REALLY tired of cleaning out Emma’s litter box. I asked Dad if he would shorten my punishment. He just laughed.
Monday, December 11
I was in such a hurry to catch a ride to school with Mom this morning that I almost ran out of the house in my underwear! After all I’ve been through, you’d think I’d be more New Me careful.
Thankfully, I caught the Old Me foul-up before I got out the door. Still, it was scary that I could be that much of a space cadet.
Earth to Cody! Earth to Cody! PAY ATTENTION!
Tuesday, December 12
During math I looked up and Amy was smiling at me. Just smiling that big pretty smile she has. I smiled back. And for a second we just sat there smiling at each other.
Emerson giggled. I glared at him and whispered, “Lay off it! We’re just friends.”
New survey topic from ace-brilliant-type-Question-Man: friends, as in, How do you know if a person is more than a friend?
Just wondering.
Wednesday, December 13
Wendell is the custodian at Garfield Elementary School. He’s a really nice guy, and does lots of things for kids, like when he helped me fix a flat tire on my bike. He always wears jeans and a plaid shirt and a baseball cap. Ms. B suggested we have a Dress Like Wendell Day. We all said, “Yeah!” Wendell doesn’t know, though. It’s a surprise!
Thursday, December 14
Somehow Wendell found out about Dress Like Wendell Day. We showed up dressed like him. He showed up dressed in a tuxedo. Ms. B laughed so hard I thought she was going to fall over. Wendell said, “Thank you very much,” and gave her a Tootsie Roll. I started laughing really hard, too, but he just patted me on the head.
Friday, December 15
You’ve probably heard people say that there are times when you feel like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, meaning that no matter what you do, somebody is going to see it as wrong. That’s what happened to me today at recess.
I was playing basketball. Tyler and Zach and I were on the same team. We were doing great, blowing out those boys from Mrs. Larsen’s room. I scored. We ran back down the court, and there were Amy and Libby.
At first I thought they had come to watch super-hoop-star Cody, and would break into cheers. But instead of asking me how it is that I got to be so great, Libby said, “We want to play.”
Zach frowned and said, “No way.”
Amy frowned right back. “Why not?”
“Because you’re girls,” Zach said, “and girls can’t shoot.”
I groaned. If I’ve learned anything about Amy, it’s that you never tell her she can’t do something because she’s a girl. Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll shoot against you any day, Zach!”
Zach laughed. “In your dreams.” He waved her off. “We got a good game going. Go play on the bars or something.”
Amy looked at me like I was supposed to do something. Do what? Tell Zach he’s being a macho jerk? Well, even if he was, I couldn’t do that. And anyway, we already had chosen sides. And we did have a good game going. And Amy and Libby could go do something else. There I stood, between a rock (that would be Amy) and a hard place (Zach), not knowing what to do or say.
Tyler, however, didn’t bat an eye. “This isn’t the NBA,” he said. “They can play.” He motioned the girls onto the court. “C’mon. We’ll take Amy. Libby, you go to the other side.”
I thought Zach was going to argue, for sure. But he just rolled his eyes and said, “Okay,” and the next thing I knew we’d gone coed.
Well, sort of. Amy and Libby did start running up and down the court guarding people on defense. And on offense they moved around trying to get open and waved their arms so somebody would pass to them, too. Only problem was, nobody did. I tried to get the ball to Amy once, but Zach cut it off and drove for the basket.
Amy got redder and redder in the face, until finally she threw up her hands and said, “BOYS!” then stomped off the court. When I started to go after her, Zach said, “Let her be!” Libby looked daggers at all of us, but particularly me. “Jerks!” she said, then marched after Amy.
I know I should have said more. I know I should have gone after Amy and Libby, no matter what Zach said. But he threw me the ball and said, “C’mon, let’s play!” And that’s what I did—play.
For the rest of the day, neither Amy nor Libby would even look at me, much less speak. Every now and then Libby would act like she was coughing and say, “Jerk!” under her breath. Looks like I’ve gone from between a rock and a hard place to the Old Me doghouse.
Saturday, December 16
Woke up this morning thinking about Amy being mad at me. Headed for the shower. It’s a good place to solve problems. Ideas come raining down on my brain along with all that hot water. I’d have this figured out in no time.
But MC was headed for the shower, too. As bad luck would have it, we got to the bathroom door at exactly the same time.
MC said, “I get the shower first.”
I said, “No, I do.”
“But I stink!”
“I stink worse!”
“No, I do!”
“No, I do!”
“NO, I DO!”
Mom called from the bottom of the stairs: “What’s going on up there?”
It was useless. I said to MC, “Okay, you’re right. You stink.”
MC glared at me. “Mom, Cody said I stink!”
Like I said, useless.
So now I’m back in bed, leaning against my pillow while MC takes her shower. By the time I get in there, all the good ideas will be gone, along with the hot water. Which is why I still haven’t figured out how to get on Amy’s good side again.
New ace-brilliant-type-Question-Man survey topic: little sisters. Just two questions:
—Do you hav
e one?
—How many times a day do you consider locking her in a closet for the rest of her life?
Sunday, December 17
Got our Christmas tree this afternoon. Cut it at one of the Christmas tree farms outside of town. It’s a nice one, taller than Dad.
When we got it home, Mom put on Christmas music and we pulled all the decorations out of the attic. It took at least an hour to get the lights untangled and strung. And at least that much more to hang all the ornaments. By the time we finished, it was almost dark outside. We turned off all the lights in the living room and then plugged in the tree.
“It’s so pretty!” MC said, jumping up and down.
Mom put her hand to her mouth. “Absolutely beautiful!”
“Our best tree ever,” Dad said, just like he says every year.
I was about to agree with Dad—that’s what I do every year—when I noticed Emma crouched on the back of the armchair with a weird look in her eye. “Emma, no!” I yelled.
But it was too late. She’d already attacked. Attacked the Christmas tree. Which went crashing over onto the floor.
Dad cussed. Mom cried. MC said, “Why do we have a cat, anyway?” So now I have another ace-brilliant-type-Question-Man survey topic: cats. My questions:
—Why do people have cats, anyway?
—What’s the most irritating thing your cat has ever done? (Besides knocking over your Christmas tree. That’s already taken.)
Monday, December 18
Tried an experiment today. I was wondering if chocolate can increase brainpower. So I bought a chocolate bar from myself. Then I ate it, and just like that, I knew what to get Amy for Christmas. I could buy her the rest of the chocolate bars (four, I think). That would be a really cool gift.
So there you have it! My conclusion: People think better after eating chocolate. Am I a genius, or what?
And I did it without a shower.
Later, Monday, December 18
What was I thinking? A Christmas present? Amy is Jewish!
Tuesday, December 19
Today at recess a kid in third grade kissed a girl on the playground because someone bet him a dollar he wouldn’t. Our beloved principal, Mrs. Mead, found out and made him give the money back. Then she got on the intercom and said, “There is to be no kissing for money.”
Zach faked like he was really disappointed. “Aw, gee!” he said. “Just when I was feeling all lovey!” He puckered up and acted like he was blowing kisses everywhere. When Libby said, “Gag!” Emerson laughed. For a second I thought Zach was going to punch them both. I mean really punch them.
Obviously, kissing is an emotional issue.
New ace-brilliant-type-Question-Man survey topic: kissing.
Questions:
—Who would you most like to kiss?
On second thought, this is not a good survey topic. I’d better come up with something else. Still time enough for one more before they’re due on Friday. Boy, is Ms. B gonna be surprised at all the ace-brilliant-type-Question-Man work I’ve done! Next stop, A+ city!
Wednesday, December 20
Today in class I saw Amy’s survey. She just did one, but it was really long with tons of questions, and it was graphed really cool with different colors. Printed across the top was her title: “Women in the New Millennium.”
Which, when I thought about it, was just the kind of serious, thoughtful topic Ms. B probably wanted. So I started worrying. What if my surveys are too short? Or silly? Or weird? Or there are just too many of them? What if Ms. B thinks they’re stupid? WHAT IF SHE GIVES ME ANOTHER OLD ME C?
So when I got home, I threw away all my surveys. And I spent two whole hours writing down lots of questions about “Men in the Twenty-first Century.” Now all I have to do is get some quick answers (I’ll go ask Dad) and—BINGO—an A+!
Amy gets to take Ralphster home for the holidays. She’s really excited. I’ve never seen a hamster smile, but I’ll betcha Ralphster is happy, too. Knowing Amy, he’ll be treated like a king!
Thursday, December 21
Today is the shortest day of the year. So I’ll keep this short.
Later,
Thursday, December 21
Well, not as short as I thought. A quick report: As a class we sold 293 chocolate bars and earned $439.50 toward our Incredible-Fantastic-End-of-the-Year Camp-out. Cool.
Eight kids sold more than I did. Good thing I found my real calling, ace-brilliant-type-Question-Man, in the meantime.
Even later,
Thursday, December 21
Okay, okay, so I’m a blabbermouth on paper. But for the record, I just had to write down that Mom and Dad finally asked me what I want for Christmas. They were expecting the usual mile-long list, like greedy Old Me used to give them. But this year, I just said, “Not much. Surprise me.”
After she got her jaw up off the floor, Mom said, “You’re a good kid, Cody.”
Dad nodded. “That he is!”
Wouldn’t you write that down, too?
Friday, December 22
Amy was sick today, the last day of school before vacation. I volunteered to take Ralphster to her, since she won the lottery. Ms. B said, “That’s very sweet of you, Cody.”
Then Ms. B told us to be sure to put our surveys in the homework box. I looked in my notebook and mine was gone. I was sure I’d put it in there, but somehow, somewhere, I’d lost it!
I didn’t want to tell Ms. B. This was just the kind of thing I used to do in fourth grade, and third, and … I didn’t want her to think I’m still like the Old Me. But then I turned right around and did a dumb Old Me thing—nothing. I didn’t hand in anything at all. So now I’ll get a big fat zero. Journal title idea: How Did Cody Get So Stupid?
Oh well, at least there’s no school for two whole weeks. And I’ve got Ralphster. He’s eating a carrot I gave him. Hi, Ralphster! Be sure to tell Amy I fed you well!
Uh-oh, I’m talking to a rodent.
Saturday, December 23
Woke up early this morning to find Emma in my room staring at Ralphster’s cage. Her lip was twitching and she had that look in her eye. She was thinking, FOOD!
I threw a sock at her and yelled, “Scat, cat!” She took off. I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I got up and made chunky chocolate chip cookies for Amy. I figured it was a good time to return the favor for the ones she brought to me after the election speech disaster. And take Ralphster to her, too—a sort of get well and Hanukkah present all in one!
You’d have thought I brought her the moon. “Thank you, Cody!” she said. She jumped off their family-room couch, where she’d been wrapped in a blanket, watching cartoons. She looked pale and tired, but she was grinning. “You’re so sweet!” (That’s two times in two days someone has said that to me, so it must be true.)
Then—get this—she gave me a big hug. That’s right, a full-blown-arms-all-the-way-around-me hug.
I guess I looked pretty shocked, because I was. Amy stepped back, embarrassed. “Sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have done that. You might get the flu, too.”
But you know what? I don’t care if I get the flu. I’ve been hugged lots of times, but I’ve never gotten a hug that felt like the one Amy gave me. It was nice. Really nice. I liked it. Really liked it. Just like I really like her.
Wait a minute! Did I write that?
Yep, I did.
Which means it must be true.
Whoa! I’d thought there’d be warning signs or something. Instead, one minute I’m going along acting like a regular guy, and then—ZAP!—all of a sudden I really like a girl.
My head is spinning. I’d better go lie down.
Monday, December 25
Christmas Day
I asked Mom and Dad to surprise me with a gift, and they did. They gave me a cool denim jacket. Which I didn’t even know I wanted until I unwrapped it.
I wonder what else I don’t know I want.
Not underwear, that’s for sure, especially Christmas ones with Sant
as and reindeer all over them. MC acted hurt when I stuffed the ones she gave me under the couch. What did she expect?
Ate too much Christmas ham, but still had room for dessert. Later MC and I watched a science fiction movie about invaders from outer space. MC fell asleep on my shoulder and drooled on my new jacket. Dad said, “Don’t worry, it’s slobber-resistant.”
Thought about calling Amy. But then I found myself thinking, What if she’s busy? Or doesn’t want to hear my voice? So I hung up.
I had no idea liking a girl was going to be this complicated!
Tuesday, December 26
Finally, I finished my kitty litter box jail term! Today MC had the dirty deed of cleaning up after Emma. I sat and watched her with a big grin on my face.
She only has to do it for one week, though, then it’s my turn again. Which doesn’t seem fair, seeing as how I just got done doing it forever. Still, it sure was fun watching her scoop out those smelly clumps.
Wednesday, December 27
Amy called! She said she’s feeling a lot better, but her mom is still making her take it easy. Ralphster is doing fine. Turns out he likes accordion music. When Amy puts on a CD of it, he gets on his exercise wheel and “goes like crazy, like he’s dancing the polka!”
I didn’t say it (from Cody’s Guide to Girls: “Don’t insult her taste in music”) but if Ralphster is like me, he was probably trying to get away from the accordion music, not dance to it.
