Cody wasn’t sure what a detention would be at Splurch Academy, but he doubted swapping it for a chat with Dr. Farley was a better deal.
A fly buzzed through the office, and landed on a plant sitting on Dr. Farley’s windowsill.
The plant ate the fly.
“I trust your first evening here was comfortable?” Dr. Farley asked.
Cody popped the red candy fish into his mouth. “You know my night wasn’t comfortable!” he said. “Your nurse attacked me with sleep serum and you threw me in a rat-infested dungeon. And I saw monster animals outside!”
And this candy is probably poisoned. He spat it out.
“Thank you for answering my question,” Farley said. “Have another fish.”
He pulled a gold watch and chain from his vest pocket, polished it, then dangled it in the air.
Dr. Farley chuckled softly. “Now, why would I say something so illogical? I have a pet rat myself. Let me introduce you to him.” He pulled a silver pipe from his pocket, and blew a short tune.
A sleek, white rat with a long, pink tail and even pinker eyes jumped up on Farley’s desk, its whiskers twitching as it studied Cody.
“This is Rasputin,” Farley said, still using that gentle voice a dentist uses to tell you it won’t hurt when he drills. “Would you like to see his tricks?”
Cody shrugged. “I dunno, he’s not a ninja rat or anything, is he?”
Dr. Farley laughed. “Ninja rat! How droll. Capital humor! Bravo!”
The more Farley went on, the more annoyed Cody got. “Just show me the tricks, okay?”
“March, Rasputin,” Farley said, and the rat high-stepped around the desk like a soldier.
“That’s cool,” Cody said.
“Play dead.”
“Good job watching my rat,” Farley purred. “Have a Swedish fish.”
Cody ignored the candy. “What’s with all this fish and rat business?” he said. “What’s the deal with this messed-up school?”
“Excellent question, Cody,” Farley said. “Have a fish. It’s not the school that’s messed up, it’s the boys’ brains.” The pendulum watch swung again. “I’m the world’s top scholar of naughty boy neurology. I’ve invented devices that harness the power of deviant brains.”
“Yippy for you,” Cody said. “So what?”
“I discovered the part of the brain that makes boys naughty. It’s no larger than Rasputin’s brain. Isn’t that right, you smart rat, you?” Farley tickled Rasputin’s chin. “I call it the ‘rebellium cortex.’ Disruptive boys have large rebellium cortices, which is why they cause so much trouble.”
“What’d you do, operate on kids to discover it?”
Dr. Farley swung his watch. “What a clever boy you are, Cody.”
Cody shifted in his seat. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the light, he could see diplomas on the walls. University of Tran . . . Pennsylvania. Doctor of Neurology. Doctor of Abnormal Psychology. Doctor of Brain Surgery.
“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Dr. Farley said. “Something special is coming to Splurch Academy. Soon. A breakthrough that will liberate all the students.”
Cody scratched his head. “You mean, set us free?”
“That’s right. Free from the burden of bad behavior—forever.”
Huh?
“Wait a minute.” Cody backed away in his chair.
“It’ll be a glorious day,” Dr. Farley went on. “We’ll celebrate! We’ll invite your parents, there will be special guests, awards committees, and . . . ahem. I’m getting ahead of myself.”
Dr. Farley smiled at Cody, showing his hideous teeth.
“Rest assured, Cody Mack,” he added. “When that day comes, you’ll be at the center of it. I knew when I first met you that you’d make a perfect specimen.”
“Specimen?”
“Er, example.” Farley coughed. “Your progress will be an example to all.”
Cody stood, knocking over his chair. “I want to go to class. That’s okay, right? I mean, this is a school, isn’t it?”
Dr. Farley pressed the buzzer for Miss Threadbare. “It is. Nice job being committed to your studies. Here. Have a Swedish fish.”
CHAPTER NINE
THE ASSIGNMENT
After lunch the next day, Cody returned to class to find Mr. Fronk sleeping at his desk. Cody burped. Ugh. Baloney stir-fry was bad enough the first time around.
Fronk opened one eye. “Homework essays due in ten minutes.”
Uh-oh, Cody thought. Forgot about that. “Why I Love Splurch Academy”? As if!
Cody didn’t generally do homework. But sometimes, to prevent certain teachers from going hysterical, Cody Mack The Poetic Genius saved the day. Teachers, Cody found, were suckers for poetry.
Not bad! An easy C, for sure. He dropped it in the homework basket on Fronk’s desk and picked up his next assignment, a math packet. It made his eyes cross.
Ten minutes before class ended, Mr. Fronk opened his eyes and started correcting the essays. Finally, the bell rang.
“Mr. Mack,” Mr. Fronk said as the students filed out the door. “Up here.”
Aw, man! He’d done nothing all day long, and he still got in trouble! Sheesh.
Cody approached the desk. Mr. Fronk shoved Cody’s essay toward him.
Apparently Fronk wasn’t a poetry fan.
He’d circled the line that read, “tortures boys, calls it science research.”
“Well? What is it?” Cody asked.
“Care to tell me what you mean by this?” Mr. Fronk said.
“Uh . . .”
“We haven’t been snooping around the laboratory, have we?”
“What laboratory?” Cody shook his head.
Fronk’s voice rumbled. “Never mind. Don’t look for trouble, new boy. It’ll find you first.” He slammed his folder shut with a bang. “You’ll spend this evening in the library writing a real essay.”
The librarian tottered by. Cody didn’t like her bandagey face, but his mom always said to be nice to little old ladies and people with strange diseases.
So now he was supposed to write a real essay on why he loved Splurch Academy. Professor Fronk must be out of his mind.
Then again, from the looks of him, Cody wondered whether Fronk’s mind was even his own. Probably not. At least, not originally.
Cody’s gaze fell on the metal grate covering the air duct. It was pretty big. If only he could climb through the walls and find a way out . . . or maybe the laboratory would have something that he could use to escape.
Could he climb through walls?
Hmm. No harm in trying.
Unless, of course, this shaft led straight down to the heater.
Would he get sizzled to a crisp in the furnace?
Was that worse than staying here at Splurch Academy forevermore?
It was Fronk! Cody scooted closer.
“Cody Mack knows something.”
Now that was something Cody’d never heard a teacher say.
“Calm yourself, Prometheus. I have Cody Mack well under control.”
Oh you do, do you, Farley?
“How much longer do we wait? I’m sick of the nasty squids!” Nurse Bilgewater said.
Cody peeked through the vent.
“We’re days away from testing the machine on actual specimens,” Farley said. “A few refinements, and she’s ready. I know just the boy to start with.”
The teachers chuckled.
Cody gulped.
Nurse Bilgewater stuck out her lower lip. “Make it soon, will you, Archie?”
“As soon as we’ve taken care of Mr. Mack, Beulah, we’ll swap all the students. With these,” he tapped his earphones, “they’ll do our bidding. The world will marvel at the revolutionary Farley Method for curing disruptive boys!”
Swap?!?! Huh?
“Getting dark out,” Mr. Howell said, flexing his long arms. “Can we wrap this up?”
“One more thing,” Fronk said. “I think inviting parents—and
especially her—is a big mistake. Too risky. What if something goes wrong?”
“Nonsense, Prometheus,” Farley said. “Where is your sense of adventure? The League of Reform Schools will be dazzled by our achievements! And we’ll make a fortune. Celebrities and dictators worldwide will shower us with money to reform their rotten sons. We’ll live like kings. And we’ll never deal with another loathsome little boy. Ever! It’s a brilliant solution.”
“But will it work?” Mr. Fronk pressed. “Will it really satisfy the rules? We can’t harm them.”
“Inside the school,” Nurse Bilgewater corrected him. “Only inside the school.”
“We’re not harming boys, we’re fixing them,” Farley said. “They’ll be model citizens. Guaranteed!” Dr. Farley smiled his oily smile. “This is the loophole we’ve been looking for.”
Mr. Howell rose, stretched, and threw open the double doors. “Enough of this chitter-chatter. Moonlight’s wasting. Let’s get moving. Chop-chop.”
Howell threw open a large door, stepped outside, and sniffed the air, reaching for the moon. “Aaaahhh.”
Cody crawled to the next vent for a better view. And just in time! Howell’s body hunkered forward. Hair tufted from his hands and face. His shirt and pants split open as a giant wolf body emerged!
Pavlov barked and sprang off after Mr. Howell.
Nurse Bilgewater waddled across the threshold, pulling off her hairnet. Her dark hair waved like seaweed. Her legs dissolved into eight squelchy, dripping tentacles.
“Hurry up, Tessie,” she gurgled.
Miss Threadbare stepped outside, tucked her spectacles into her pocket, then let out an earsplitting hawk’s cry. She shook her head as a sharp beak replaced her nose. Her fingers became vicious talons. Bat wings popped from her shoulders. She leaped into the sky.
Mr. Fronk stripped off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, and lumbered outside. His skin went knobbly, his skull stretched, and the scars on his face turned into screws and stitches.
A Frankenstein!
“Hurry up, Archie,” Miss Threadbare the bat-hawk screeched. “We’re waiting!”
Dr. Farley nuzzled Rasputin, tucked him into his cage, then stowed his strange devices in a cabinet. He tossed his lab coat on the couch, then hopped out the door.
“He’s a Dracula!” Cody whispered.
“Jolly hunting, my friends,” Farley cried. “Tallyho!”
CHAPTER TEN
THE CADILLAC
Splurch Academy’s teachers slipped out into the night, wailing horrible monster cries. Their screams echoed until at last the sounds faded away.
Inside the dark, stuffy air ducts, Cody Mack shivered. And not because he was cold.
They were monsters.
Real monsters.
Real, live, rip-your-eyeballs-out-and-eat-them-with-ketchup monsters. The kind Cody thought only existed in comic books. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he’d never have believed it.
On the other hand, deep down, hadn’t he known from the moment he laid eyes on Farley?
But that didn’t matter now. These Splurch Academy monsters had some kind of sinister plan to do something evil to the boys, and soon. Cody wasn’t sure what, but he knew it wasn’t anything good.
It was time to leave this looney bin. Quick, before Cody Mack became Midnight Snack.
But what about the other boys? They hadn’t exactly bonded, but he didn’t want their eyeballs eaten, either.
This might be the moment to run for it, while the teachers were outside. It might be the only chance they’d get.
He crawled backward through the air ducts until he reached another vent. He pushed through and tumbled into a dark room. Feeling along the walls, he discovered hanging tools, flashlights, keys, and finally a light switch. It was a garage, with Farley’s old Cadillac parked inside. He ran out of the garage and up the stairs to the dorms.
“Or something? How can it be: kill us or something?” Mugsy asked.
“Farley said, in a couple of days we’ll be swapped, and they’ll never deal with us again.”
“Woo-hoo! They’re sending us home!” Carlos said.
“They’re retiring to Bermuda, and hiring pretty teachers!” Ratface added.
“Guys,” Cody said. “They’re not sending us home or retiring, I swear. You should’ve seen Farley’s torture device. Like a plunger!”
“So Farley’s fixing a toilet,” Sully said. “Guys, meet the new Billy Whistler. Cody, nice knowing you. You’re toast.”
So much for saving lives! No time to waste. “Have it your way. Tomorrow morning I’ll be eating Pop-Tarts and sausage and chocolate milk for breakfast. Have fun getting swapped.”
He ran back down the stairs to the garage, felt along the wall for the keys, and climbed into the Cadillac.
Which pedal was “go” and which was “stop”? He couldn’t reach either. He cranked the front seat forward. Now what? Turn the key, and . . . think. Think! You’ve watched your parents start cars billions of times!
A tap at the window made him jump. It was Victor.
“Know anything about driving a car?”
“I’ll do the pedals,” Victor said. “Hey, Cody?”
“Hmm?”
“Instead of going to my house, can I, er, stay at yours?”
Cody looked at Victor. Victor looked away.
“Sure,” Cody said. “Absolutely. So, is it key first and then shifter?”
Mugsy and Ratface squooshed their faces against the glass.
“Pop-Tarts and chocolate milk?” Mugsy said. They climbed in beside Victor.
“This had better work, Cody,” Ratface said. “Otherwise we’re dead.”
“It’ll work,” Cody said. He wished he felt as sure as he sounded. “Ready, men? Home we go!”
There was a frantic knocking at the window. “Let us in!” Carlos and Sully climbed in. “Might as well die together,” Carlos said.
“Ready?” Cody asked.
“Ready,” Victor said.
“You gonna open the garage door?” Carlos asked.
“When the car’s running.” Cody turned the key. The engine coughed to life. “Give it gas, Victor!”
The engine roared, but the car didn’t budge. The huge roar reverberated off the garage walls. If this were my dad’s car, he’d kill me, Cody thought.
“Why doesn’t it go?” Cody asked.
“You’ve got to shift into gear,” Sully said.
“Right,” Cody said, embarrassed. “I knew that. Let off the gas, Vic.”
“Use the brake,” Sully said.
Cody pressed the big button on the garage door opener. Nothing happened.
He pressed it over and over.
“My grandma’s got one of those things,” Mugsy said. “You’re supposed to enter a code on the buttons.”
“What code?” Ratface wailed.
“Try spelling ‘EVIL,’” Carlos said.
“Are you kidding? We’ll never crack Farley’s code in time,” Sully said.
Cody looked at his friends’ anxious faces. It was now or never.
“Hit the gas, Victor,” he said. “Hit it hard!”
“Wait . . . ” Sully said. Victor pounded on the pedal.
Cody let go of the brake.
“We’re dead meat!”
“I’m too young to die!”
“I can’t see!” Cody said.
“Turn on the headlights,” Sully said.
“Which one’s the headlights?” Cody flipped the levers. Wipers swished, squirters squirted, the radio blared oldies, but still no lights. “I can’t find them!”
Cody spun the wheel. The car quickly swerved just before they crashed into a stone fountain.
“Quit the sightseeing,” Sully said. “Let’s vamoose!”
“What moose?” Mugsy said.
“Carlos, find the lights, ” Cody yelled as the car veered again, this time just missing a bench.
They zigzagged across the grounds, the spinning
wheels tearing up turf.
“Where’s the gate?” Cody cried. “We’re never going to get out if we can’t find the . . .”
“Um . . .” Mugsy said. “Uh-uh-uhummm . . . Co-Cody?”
“Not now, Mugs!” Cody interrupted. “Carlos, find those lights!”
“Uh-uh-uh . . .” Mugsy’s voice trailed off in a squeak.
“Quit whining!”
“C-c-company!” Mugsy sputtered.
“Found ’em!” Carlos cried, pulling out a knob.
The headlights burst on.
“Aaaaaaghhh!”
“BRAKES, VICTOR!” Cody cried.
“TURN AROUND!” Carlos yelled.
Cody spun the wheel. Victor mashed the gas pedal.
THUMP! The car roof caved. Fat tentacles probed the windows.
“Gas, Victor!” The car leaped forward. “Back to the garage!”
Monsters scattered like bowling pins. Howell, the werewolf, sprang for the driver’s side, his jaw snapping.
“Lock the doors!” Cody yelled. Mugsy pounded the buttons.
The windows opened.
“Stop! Locks, not windows!”
Mugsy rolled the windows back up, pinching Bilgewater’s tentacles as she reached inside. She screamed in rage.
The hawk-bat Miss Threadbare dived and slashed with her talons. One tire burst, and the car went wobbly. Mr. Fronk wrenched off the passenger door with a roar.
Dracula Farley suddenly appeared in the headlights, just before the garage.
Cody’s hands shook with fear. Would they make it? Would they even be safe if they got back inside?
It was their only hope now. “Gas, Victor!”
Victor pressed the pedal all the way down. Cody steered hard to keep the car straight.
The Rat Brain Fiasco #1 Page 3
