Cody
Don’t call me that!
Alex
Sorry, Cuz. Can’t help myself. It’s so funny!
Cody
Funny for everyone but me. You got a reason for this text, or you just want to annoy me?
Alex
Annoying you is a happy side effect. Mostly I wanted to nudge about Destiny’s b-day party. You guys comin’?
Cody
I hope so! Depends on if Mom has a gig the night before.
Alex
Family first!
Cody
Mom mostly feels that way. But sometimes show biz comes first.
Alex
Aunt Mala needs to get her priorities straight!
Cody
I’ll bust her on that and see what I can do.
Alex
You’ve got 3 weeks. Make it happen!
Cody
I’ll TRY!
Alex
Good. That makes you my favorite cousin.
Cody
I’m your only cousin.
Alex
Yeah, but even if I had other cousins they wouldn’t be able to do that hilarious fart thing.
Cody
You only think it’s hilarious because you don’t have to live with it.
Alex
You wouldn’t believe some of the things I live with these days.
Cody
Like what?
Alex
Skip it. Focus on the party. Be here or be branded a doot!
Cody
Anything but that!!
Alex
Beware the fate of the doot!
Cody
I’ll talk to Mom!!
Alex
Yer the best, Codes. Love ya.
Cody
Eeeeuuuuuuwwwww!
Alex
Hah! Got you!
Sunday, Sept. 25
I realize my entries have been sounding rather bleak lately, so I should add that I do have some pleasures in my life.
For example, there is farting.
Truly, few things are more satisfying than surprising someone with a fart. In our underground world, I have developed a reputation for my huge and deadly ones.
“Ned!” the others will cry when we have a newcomer to the community. “Ned, come here and cut the cheese for this guy!”
Everyone loves to count how many echoes I can get.
To be honest, my farts would be no more than average in the kingdoms of the trolls. But here among the humans they are what would be called world-class.
If there were an Olympic category for farting, I could blow away the competition!
Hmmmm. I think I will go up above tonight and have some “fartertainment.”
The results when I let a few go at the movies can be hilarious!
Sept. 26
Dear Mr. Liebe—
I appreciated your note and kind words about Cody. Let me assure you, his dad and I are well aware of his tendency to “sky.” How could we not be, after all the problems we had over it with his teacher last year?
And we do understand that this gives him a problem with credibility.
However, in this case I must protest on Cody’s behalf. The fact is, Raimo Takala is indeed Cody’s grandfather, and truly is one of the world’s foremost scholars of Finnish folklore. His collection Secret Stories of Scandinavia has been translated into thirty-five languages.
I suspect the reason Cody did not mention this in his autobiography is that Raimo moved to Finland more than twenty-five years ago and has not stayed in close touch with the family. The situation has been hurtful to Cody’s dad, and we do not talk about Raimo much, even though we have most of his books on our shelves.
I want to assure you that Cody loves being in your class and is excited about the Biography Project. So I hope you can quickly put an end to any friction with the class on the matter of his grandfather.
Sincerely,
Tuesday, Sept. 27
I fear I was lying to myself when I said I don’t let comments about my looks bother me.
They do.
Why should this be? I am a troll. I am supposed to be ugly! I am even supposed to be proud of my ugliness!
But I am not living among trolls, and that changes things.
Is being surrounded by all these humans rubbing off on me?
Sometimes I worry that I am developing human emotions.
What a horrifying thought!
Next thing you know, I’ll be writing poetry!
1) Poems must rhyme.
2) It is acceptable to invent words to create a rhyme.
3) The proper rhythm is:
BOMP diddy BOMP diddy BOMP diddy BOMP.
4) The rhyme scheme can be AB AB AB (cat/dog, rat/fog, mat/clog) or AA BB CC (cat/rat, dog/fog, nose/blows).
5) Every poem must contain at least one fart!
Sample of an AA BB CC poem:
What did you do when you went to the school?
Chased all the chil-dren till I made them drool.
Picked up the big-gest and gave him a squeeze.
Fart came so hard that it caused a big breeze!
What did you do when you got yourself home?
Put a hat on my cat, then wrote this pome!
From A Troll’s Guide to Verse and Worse
By Albemarl Fractus
Fourteenth Edition
Oh, Cruel World!
Why did I come to this strange foreign land?
I had no choice, I was sent by de-mand!
Made a mis-take and was told I must pay;
Pun-ishment lasts up through this very day!
Sent to the world where the hu-mans must live,
Two hundred years later should I for-give?
No, I will not! I’ve a stone for a heart!
I will for-give when a moun-tain can fart!
By Ned Thump
(My First Poem!)
Biography Project Notebook
9/28
Today Mr. Liebe came up with our next biography assignment. We’re supposed to choose the most unusual person we know, even if we don’t know him or her well, then gather enough information to write their life story.
My first thought was to write about my grandfather. After all, he used to work in a circus, which is fairly unusual. And he can still put one foot behind his head—definitely unusual for a guy who’s almost seventy! Also, he can juggle coconuts. (He has to do it outside, though, on account of Mom got upset about the dents in the ceiling.)
On the other hand, using him seems a little like cheating, since he lives right here.
Then I thought about Ned Thump, one of Dad’s night watchmen at Grand Central.
Ned is the weirdest-looking person I’ve ever met. To begin with, he’s so big they have to have his uniforms custom made. Dad told me he didn’t mind the cost because Ned’s size alone is enough to scare off bad guys. “And that would be before they get a look at his face!” he added—which was not very nice, but true. Once you get past the size of Ned’s schnoz, you start to notice the warts, the gigantic bushy eyebrows, and the super-wide mouth with the scraggly teeth.
It’s hard not to stare. I mean, I try not to, because I know it’s rude. But really, you’ve never seen anyone like him!
Another thing: Ned is real quiet—which in New York City is pretty unusual all on its own!
Also, there is something weirdly familiar about his name. That doesn’t make much sense, but it keeps nagging at the back of my mind.
Next time I go to work with Dad, I’ll see if I can find Ned and interview him. Could be interesting!
Thursday, Sept. 29
I don’t know if it is good to use this diary to get out my resentments, or if doing so will only make them fester more, but I can’t help myself tonight.
What got me started on this was watching Martha play with one of the dolls I brought her. It’s called a Barbie, and it is absurdly pretty.
This got me to thinking about th
e hulder-maids, who are part of the troll realm. And that thinking fills my heart with rage, because instead of being hideous, like me, huldra are absurdly pretty.
I would say that humans are insanely obsessed with looks and appearance. But the truth is, I am, too.
Given my face, at least I have a reason!
Biography Project Notebook
9/30
This evening Dad let me go to his office with him. Once he was involved in his work, I took off to wander the terminal, hoping to spot Ned.
It wouldn’t be that hard to find him in most places…he is definitely a guy who stands out. But that doesn’t take into account how huge GCT is. There are dozens of platforms for the trains, and over a hundred shops and restaurants.
Fortunately, I knew some of the places Ned was most likely to be stationed. After about an hour, I spotted him in one of the lower tunnels.
He waved when he saw me, which seemed like a good sign. But he was clearly surprised when I walked toward him.
“Can I help you, Cody?” he asked.
His voice was like a rumble of thunder.
“I hope so!” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “I’m supposed to do a report on an interesting person for school. I think you’re interesting, so I would like to interview you.”
Ned’s eyes bulged out in a way I would not have thought humanly possible, and he said, “Please don’t ask me that!”
Then he turned and hurried away.
It made me think of the way that Granny Aino had reacted when I wanted to ask about her history.
Is everyone I know hiding something?
Naturally, Ned’s reaction made me even more curious about him (probably the opposite of what he wanted). However, it was also a little frightening. Though I wouldn’t have thought anything could scare Ned Thump, he had looked terrified.
Is he hiding some deep, dark secret? Like, is he some kind of fugitive criminal?
Or is he just shy because he’s so ugly?
Wow. I just realized how rough middle school must have been for him.
Poor guy.
Probably the smartest thing to do now would be to forget this and do the paper on my grandfather instead.
But my curiosity is driving me nuts.
Who is Ned Thump…and what is he hiding?
Saturday, Oct. 1
Last night the boss’s son sought me out to ask me about my life.
Does he know something?
Does he suspect I am not what I seem?
If he is suspicious, I fear my panicked reaction may have made him even more so.
Is it possible he could have already guessed my secrets?
No, that seems impossible.
On the other hand, there is no doubt a child would be more apt than an adult to figure this out, since children have not yet shut magic out of their lives. I don’t worry about this with little Martha. She is so used to me I don’t think it would cross her mind. But Cody is different. He doesn’t know me as well, and he is curious.
I must be on my guard. The boy may be dangerous.
I hope I will not have to take drastic action.
Cody’s Life Log
10/2
Maybe I should actually call this “Cody’s Official Weirdness Log,” because the stuff going on right now is the main reason I’ve decided I need a place to write down things I don’t particularly want to share with Mr. Liebe.
At first I couldn’t decide between “diary” and “journal.” “Diary” seemed a little girly, until I did some research (side effect of Mr. Liebe’s Biography Project—I research a lot more now) and found that some famous men (Thomas Jefferson! Theodore Roosevelt!) kept diaries. So thinking of that as too girly was kind of dumb.
Even so, I like to be different, so I have decided to call this my Life Log.
I wish now that I hadn’t written in my Biography notebook about that horrible night when I upset Granny Aino. This would be the better place for it.
I’ve also decided this will be the best place to write about Ned, in case he really does have some deep, dark secret.
Anyway, what got me started tonight is that Granny Aino has gone to Florida. She does that every winter, of course. But she left early this year. I don’t want to think it’s because of me, but I’m afraid that might be the reason. Not only did it freak her out when I started asking about her past, she looked nervous every time I visited after that.
Fortunately, I still have my usual job of watering the plants and feeding Askeladden while Granny is gone. Well, not just feeding him. I’m supposed to spend time every day keeping him company. I don’t mind, because I kind of love him. As soon as I sit down he comes galloping over to jump into my lap. Given his size, that’s a definite OOOF! moment, but the purring and cuddling that follow make it worth it.
Sometimes Mom and Dad let me stay there overnight so I can watch movies on Gran’s ginormous TV. They know the building is safe, and that I can call on Norman the Doorman if there’s any problem.
When I do stay over, I get to order takeout. Dang, I love those nights!
But what I need to write about now is this: I did a bad thing when I was over there this afternoon.
I snooped.
I read somewhere that when you snoop in other people’s stuff you may find things that upset you, and if that happens, it’s only what you deserve.
So I guess I got what I deserved.
Actually, I’m not sure how upset I should be.
Mostly I’m baffled.
Well, baffled and slightly disturbed.
Okay, I should say this first: I have never snooped there before, not once in the three years I’ve been doing this job. But Gran’s weird reaction to my asking about her past really got to me.
That may not be much of an excuse, but it’s the truth.
Anyway, in her dining room there’s a big piece of furniture called a buffet. The bottom part has two doors with a lot of storage space behind them. Most of that space is filled with china (Granny Aino has a lot of plates!) and cardboard boxes crammed full of postcards and junk like that.
This afternoon, for the first time ever, I pulled out some of those boxes to see what was behind them. One thing that looked interesting was a metal box held shut by a latch. I set it aside to look at later, then continued to empty the buffet.
When I had everything out, I noticed a small circular opening in the upper left corner of the buffet’s back wall. I stuck in my finger and pulled. A section of the wood came forward by a fraction of an inch. I tried pulling to the left. Nothing happened. But when I pressed to the right, the panel easily slid aside.
Behind it was the dining room wall, as would be expected.
What I wouldn’t have expected was that embedded in that wall was a square sheet of metal—iron or steel, I guess—about a foot on each side. In the center of the right side was a red circle about the size of a drink coaster.
The metal didn’t appear to be attached to the wall in any way—no bolts or nailheads. Pushed on it. Nothing happened. Tried pulling. It was set so tight in the wall I couldn’t even get my fingernails behind it.
The dining room shares that wall with Granny’s bedroom. I paced off the distance from the buffet to the door that opens into the hall, then went down the hall and into the bedroom. It looked like the section of wall behind the buffet backed up to her closet.
I opened the closet door. As I did, I heard a sound behind me. Glancing back, I saw Askeladden perched on the end of the bed. He looked…well, you can’t always read a cat’s expression, but I would say he looked annoyed.
The closet floor was covered with laundry. I bent to shift some of it aside and was surprised when my hand struck something solid. Pulling the laundry away, I found a smooth metal cube, about a foot on each side, protruding into the closet.
It looked like a safe. Only I couldn’t figure out how you were supposed to open it, since there was no dial or lock or mechanism that I could see.
And why was it
way down at floor level, instead of hidden behind a picture on the living room wall, like the safes you see in movies?
Frustrated, I moved the laundry back into place. Then I returned to the dining room and that metal box.
I set it on the table and lifted the lid.
Inside were two things.
One was a metal rod about eight inches long and as thick as my little finger. Tied to it was a label that said, in Finnish, FOR THE CAULDRON.
The other thing was a coil of something dried and leathery. It was kind of gross. At first I didn’t want to touch it, but after a moment I took it out and uncoiled it.
Based on the length, the tuft at the end, and last year’s school trip to a dairy farm, I’m pretty sure it was a cow’s tail.
A leathery, dried-up cow’s tail.
What the holy heckenlooper?
Why is my great-grandmother keeping a dried-up cow tail and a metal rod in a metal box at the back of her buffet?
Thursday, Oct. 6
Cody has come to the terminal with his father twice this week. Both times he sought me out, wanting to ask me questions.
I am afraid if I keep refusing him I might lose my job. But can I answer his questions without making him suspicious?
I am also afraid I might lose my temper if he does not stop.
That would not be good.
Very not good.
I have chewed the fingernails on my right hand all the way down to the skin worrying over this.
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