“You’re gonna hit him!” Sully said.
Cody drove.
Farley vanished.
The Cadillac crunched into the garage’s back wall.
Metal screamed and glass shattered. The boys shook themselves off and looked at one another. Slowly, they turned around.
Just outside the garage door, the teacher-monsters hissed and glared.
But they didn’t come inside.
“L-lets g-go to bed,” Cody stammered. They climbed from the wreck, ran up to the dorms, and crawled into bed.
Cody waited for the insults and anger to begin. But nobody said a word. The silence was almost worse. They must hate his guts.
Then Cody heard a whimpering voice. He wasn’t sure whose.
“They’ll kill us in the morning.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE PHONE CALL
But the teachers didn’t kill them in the morning.
The breakfast food didn’t smell poisoned—no more so than normal. When they got to class, there was Mr. Fronk, just snoozing at his desk.
Cody’s insides felt like a sackful of worms.
Outside, the skies were gray, thick with low-hanging clouds. It felt like a storm waiting to break. Not a blade of grass ruffled. Not a boy twitched.
The silence was so heavy that Cody jumped when Miss Threadbare’s voice came over the speaker. “Cody Mack to the headmaster’s office.”
Mr. Fronk cracked open an eyelid. Just enough to watch him leave.
Cody’s shoes felt like they were full of lead. Was this how it felt to march to your doom?
Cody passed Ivanov in the hall.
Cody’s tongue felt like sandpaper. Did condemned kids get last requests? Was he the next Billy Whistler?
He took a deep breath and went inside.
Miss Threadbare stood at a filing cabinet. She peered at him, then buzzed Dr. Farley. “Mr. Mack is here.”
“Show him in.”
The headmaster sat behind his desk, smiling his phony baloney smile. Every muscle in Cody’s body tensed. Would Farley invent some horrible punishment? Or just suck his blood right then and there?
“Mr. Mack,” the headmaster said. “How are you this morning?”
Where’s the trap? Cody waited for some net to fall.
“Come, come. I can’t give you a Swedish fish if you don’t answer.” Farley’s voice was as soft as a kitten’s purr. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”
He’s trying to catch me off guard.
“Well, then, I’ll start the conversation. Isn’t it a lovely day?” Dr. Farley steered Cody toward the window.
The clouds were nearly black, and a violent wind now buffeted the school. Crazy figure eights and deep-rutted brown grooves where Cody’s driving had mangled the lawns stretched all the way to the faraway iron gate.
Dr. Farley took a toy car from his pocket—a replica of the one Cody had destroyed.
“Many boys are fond of automobiles,” Dr. Farley said. “Do you like cars, Cody?”
At the word “Cadillac,” Farley’s left eye twitched. He stared at Cody while he spoke into the intercom.
“I’ll be right there, Miss Threadbare.” To Cody, he said, “Wait here.” He turned and stalked out of his office.
Cody listened for the door to lock. Sure enough, there was the extra click.
Faraway thunder rumbled, and the lights in Farley’s office flickered. Cody listened as Dr. Farley’s footsteps grew fainter, then disappeared altogether.
Cody’s mom sighed. “I know it’s hard adjusting. Discipline is no fun, but in the long run it’ll help you . . .”
“Mom, they’re gonna kill us! I swear! You need to come now, with police!”
“Cody. Be serious. They are not trying to kill you. It’s a well-respected school!”
“By who, funeral parlors?” Cody shot back. “Mom, please! Take me home!”
“Is this like the time you said you’d climbed the school roof to save a wounded eagle, when really you cut class?”
Uh-oh.
Her voice got soft. “Oh, sweetheart. I know it’s hard, but stick it out, okay?”
“Please, Mom. Please.”
“We’ll come visit you soon. I promise.”
“They won’t let you.”
“Of course they will. Write me a letter and tell me everything.”
“Good-bye, Mom. It’s been nice knowing you.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Co—”
Click.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE MACHINE
“A touching display of affection,” Dr. Farley said. “It makes what I’m about to do a smidgeon harder.”
Cody dropped the receiver and backed away from the desk.
“Your mother is a charming woman,” Farley said. “A long, graceful neck, as I recall.”
Cody whipped a paperweight at Farley. It bounced off his forehead. Farley didn’t even flinch.
“Stay away from my mother!” Cody yelled. “Leave her neck alone!”
Farley advanced upon Cody. Outside, lightning flashed.
Cody tried to run but Farley had him cornered. Cody kicked his shins, and just about smashed his toes.
With an iron grip on his captive, Farley opened a door, revealing an ancient elevator. He prodded Cody inside, closed the gate, and flipped a squeaky lever. The floor dropped abruptly.
Shock hit Cody like cold water. Farley would kill him, and he’d already figured the story he’d tell Cody’s parents. And they’d believe him.
They arrived in Farley’s lab.
Farley forced Cody into a chair, then buckled straps over his arms, legs, and waist. There was no resisting his strength. He opened Rasputin’s cage. The rat perched on his shoulder. Then the headmaster unlocked the cabinet with the plunger machine inside. He stroked the device.
“This, Cody, is my greatest invention,” he said. “Its breakthrough technology will make me famous. And rich. Won’t that be nice? That’s why I can’t afford to keep you around anymore. You’re a danger to my plans.”
“What’ll you do, throw me off the roof?” Cody shouted.
“Oh mercy, no,” Farley said. “What a waste of a perfectly good brain! A useful body, too. No, no. You, my boy, will not be killed. In fact, I’m bestowing a great honor on you. You will be the first student at Splurch Academy to test . . . the Rebellio-Rodent Recipronator!”
A stab of lightning flooded the lab.
“Now hold very still, or it’s bye-bye brain.” He fastened Rasputin’s head into a tiny helmet with a plunger.
Cody squirmed and fought for all he was worth. When that didn’t work, he stalled for time. “What’s a Rebellio—whatever you said?”
“Excellent question,” Farley said as he attached a plunger over Cody’s ear. “Tsk, tsk, I said hold still!”
He refastened Cody’s plunger. “The rebellium cortex, or the part of the brain that makes you naughty, is located behind your ear. My invention, the Rebellio-Rodent Recipronator, sucks it out and swaps it with a rat’s brain. No brain damage, no pain. At least, in theory.”
“You sicko monster!” Cody screamed. “Why switch my brain with a rat’s?”
“Not your entire brain,” Farley corrected. “The part that makes you naughty.”
“That’s the part that makes me ME!”
“Piffle. I’m replacing naughty parts with obedient brain tissue. When I’m done, you’ll do everything I say. You’ll be a model of obedience!” He chuckled. “At last, my lad, your parents will be delighted with you.”
Could that be true? Would his parents like him better?
“Oh yeah?” Cody said, flailing in his chair. “What happens to the rat that’s really me?”
“Hold STILL!” Dr. Farley calibrated buttons on his device. “Hmm, I hope this will work. I had planned on running a few more tests first. If the pneumatic-swap-o-tron isn’t properly load-balanced . . .” He shrugged. “We’ll find out soon, won’t we?”
�
�What happens if it isn’t?!” Cody squeaked. “Then what?”
Farley smiled and gave Cody a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Then, alas, your parents will receive a handwritten note from me, expressing my deep sorrow that you fell off the roof. I see in your files that you have a tendency to climb on roofs without permission.”
Cody strained against his straps. Tears trickled down his cheeks. It was too late. Nothing could save him now. Farley had outfoxed him at every turn. He’d even figured out a story to tell his parents if things went wrong.
And his parents would believe Farley. Parents always believed the school over the kid.
“Ah, don’t weep, young Cody,” Farley said. “I know. It is a beautiful moment. The thrill of this historic occasion overwhelms you. You’re sharing in an experiment that will forever alter science. The pinnacle of my career! The permanent solution to naughty boys! Aren’t you lucky?”
Cody didn’t even have the heart to answer. What difference would it make now?
Farley flipped a switch. The machine whirred. Cody held his breath. He felt suction pulling on his ear. More and more suction. And the machine’s sinister sounds began thrumming in his ear. Shoomp-thoomp . Shoomp-thoomp, the hideous heartbeat of evil.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE DREAM
They say when people are about to die, sometimes they feel they can step outside their bodies, and watch themselves from a corner of the room.
Cody was having a dream.
He dreamed he could see himself doing the strangest things.
He was watching himself from a corner of the room. All the teachers at Splurch Academy were seated on couches watching him, too. Dr. Farley told him, “Play dead!” And he, Cody Mack, clutched his hands at his throat, swiveled around on one heel, and fell to the floor.
The teachers clapped and yelled, “Bravo! Encore!”
Then Farley said to him, “Rise from the dead!” And Cody sat upright. He rose to his feet and stalked back and forth with his arms out like a zombie.
Mr. Fronk, saying something about having known it would work all along, pulled out glasses, and they all had a celebratory toast with Dr. Farley, patting him on the back and calling him a genius.
Was that blood in the glasses?
Cody hoped it was tomato juice.
Then, the strangest part of all, Farley put a set of headphones on and said, “Watch this, ladies and gents. With these headphones, I can control him with just my thoughts.”
My rats are trained to receive thought-wave instructions from these headphones,” he added. “Cody Mack will obey my every whim!”
Now, Farley didn’t have to say a word in order to control Cody. The teachers howled with laughter.
“Hey, Archie,” Nurse Bilgewater hooted. “You quack me up!”
“No, no, Beulah, check this one out,” Miss Threadbare said, laughing so hard her eyes watered. “Why did the duck-boy cross the road?”
“Why?”
“To get to the other side!”
They all stared at her.
“You know,” she said. “The other side of his brain?”
“That’s the dumbest joke I’ve ever heard,” Howell said. “It’s not even a joke at all.”
“Never mind that,” Farley cried, his glass raised high. “Call the parents! Invite them to a special Open House! Tomorrow night, we show the world!”
Mr. Fronk clinked glasses with Farley. “The world, Arch?”
Dr. Farley took a big gulp. “Not only the world,” he said. “I’ll send a telegram to the Grand Inquisitrix of the League of Reform Schools. I’ll extend her a personal invitation.”
Several faculty looked alarmed.
“And she’ll come,” Farley said, swirling the drink in his glass, and grinning. “Oh yes. She’ll come. This time, I’ll dazzle her.”
The dream faded.
Dreams are strange.
Cody rolled over.
He was asleep. Of course he was. He could tell. He felt that warm, muzzy, dozy, drowsy sleep feeling.
It was nothing more than a dream. Dreams never made sense.
Splurch Academy messed with your head so much, it could sure mess with your dreams.
Go back to sleep, he told himself. It’ll be better in the morning.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE TANK
Cody woke up slowly. His eyelids felt heavy. His mouth tasted nasty.
He waddled over to the water bottle and licked the nozzle. It drizzled onto his tongue.
Something smelled interesting. Kibbles! His favorite! He shoved his snout in the bowl.
Wait a minute . . .
Cody spit kibble bits all over the tank’s sawdust floor.
Kibbles? SNOUT?
He was a rat!
On one side of the tank, dozens of rats lay sleeping, piled in a heap. Were those the rest of the boys?
Cody ran around, panicking, looking for a way to escape. The exercise wheel pinched his tail. He squeaked, feeling pain in a place he’d never felt before.
He wandered back to the food dish and ate kibbles, trying to think. He was ravenous. He felt he’d slept for days. It had been—let’s see—he counted on his teensy claws—Monday he came to Splurch Academy, Tuesday he tried to run but Mr. Howell caught him, Wednesday night he crashed the car, and Thursday morning, he got his brain swapped with a rat’s. Or part of his brain. He wasn’t sure which. It felt like all of his brain. Anyway, now the calendar on the wall said it was Friday, and the clock said it was nearly seven at night.
What was it Farley had said?
Tomorrow night, we show the world!
Whatever Farley was planning, it was about to happen. Now.
Unless Cody did something to stop it.
But he was only a rat! How could one little rat-boy stop a fiend like Farley?
The door to the laboratory opened, and Dr. Farley walked inside, followed by Mr. Howell. Farley had dressed with special care tonight. There was a carnation in his jacket, ruffles running down his shirt, and he wore an Elvis toupee.
“The parents will be here any minute,” Dr. Farley said, popping breath mints into his mouth. Like they’d do any good, Cody thought. “Are the headphones ready to go?”
“I’m workin’ on it.” Howell tinkered with Farley’s headphones. “Stupid little gizmo, I can’t get a good grip on the tiny parts.”
“Well, try harder!” Farley said. “I need them to mind-control the boys!”
“When I was a kid, headphones were the size of hamburger buns,” Howell said. “A guy could see what he was doing.” He found another pair of headphones on the lab table. “There,” he said. “Try the spare set.”
Dr. Farley put the other headphones on, then adjusted his toupee. “Yes! It works.” He straightened his tie. “You don’t think these headphones are too obvious, do you? No one will notice them, will they?”
“Uh . . .” Howell said.
“Oh, and Howell? Just one last thing.”
“Yeah, Doc?”
“Call an exterminator, will you? We need to dispose of these rats tonight. They’re too much trouble to keep around.”
Howell nodded and slunk out.
Dr. Farley set the other headphones on the laboratory table. Then he rang his little bell. Pavlov’s booming bark sounded. He galloped into the room.
Cody lay there, miserable, hearing sounds of commotion as the parents arrived. They would love the “progress” their sons had made. It made Cody sick thinking about it. There must be something he could do!
Maybe there wasn’t much one rat could do. But a whole tank full of rats?
He jumped on the other rats’ heads. “Wake up! Get up now! You big fat ratbrains!”
Whoa. He was speaking in rat! Would they understand him? His words came out as strange squeaks.
One rat lifted up his head. “Who’re you calling Big Fat?” It had to be Mugsy.
The other rats understood him! And Cody understood them. Crazy!
�
��Get up, Mugsy,” Cody said, tugging on his whiskers. “There’s no time to lose. Get. Up. NOW!”
Mugsy climbed over the other rats. “Something’s messed up. You’re squeaking, and I understand you.” He clutched at the fur on his rat chest. “I’m a rat!”
“I warned you guys,” Cody said. “This is what I was trying to tell you! Farley swapped your brain with a trained rat’s brain. Well, not your whole brain . . . just a part of it. I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. We’re us, and we’re rats, and now our bodies will do whatever Farley tells them to.”
“Yeah, but my brain doesn’t know how to speak Rat,” Mugsy protested.
A sleepy rat poked its nose out of the pile. “Young brains are highly adaptable,” it squeaked. “Neurons form new pathways at astonishing speeds . . .” It was Sully.
“Get up,” Cody said. “We’ve got to hurry to stop Farley if we ever want to get our bodies back.”
Pavlov growled and pawed at the tank. That startled the rats awake and trembling.
“He’s huge,” one rat whispered.
“Which one are you?” Cody asked.
“Ratface,” the rat replied.
“You sure are a rat-face,” the rat that was Victor said. “Ha! Get it?”
“I’m Carlos,” one of them said. “What’s going on?”
Cody explained the Rebellio-Rodent Recipronator, the mind-control headphones, the exterminator, and Farley’s plan to show the world.
“Let’s get him!” Victor the rat cried. “Let’s rip Farley to pieces!”
“Yeah!” Ratface said. “Let’s poop in his underwear drawer!”
They all stared at Ratface.
“We are fighting for our LIVES, people,” Cody said. “Our parents are already here. There’s no time to lose.”
“Um, Cody?” Carlos said. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Pavlov pawed at the tank. He was GINORMOUS! And, oh, did he smell of enemy dog.
The Rat Brain Fiasco #1 Page 4
