Attack of the Mutant Underwear (13 page)

I said, “Whew!”

She smiled, but then said, “That's only if you keep behaving, though.”

I said, “I will!”

She said, “
And
get all of your assignments done, especially your science fair project.”

I said, “I will!” But inside I was thinking, Yikes! Very-cool-ace-brilliant-type-science-guy had better get MC to let me use her frogs, and I'd better do it NOW!

Saturday, May 26

Today was Mom and Dad's anniversary. They've been married sixteen years, so they finally went out for dinner, just the two of them. Since I'm now eleven, I baby-sat MC. We made a Happy Anniversary card and taped it to the front door so Mom and Dad would see it first thing when they came home. Then we watched TV.

MC started getting sleepy about eight-thirty, but didn't want to go to bed since Mom and Dad had said she could stay up until nine. She asked if she could lie down on the couch until then.

I said okay, so she went up to her room and got her blanket and her stuffed dinosaur, Googlie. I was reading her a story when into the family room walks Emma with something in her mouth. MC said, “Emma, what have you got—no!”

It was a frog.

“No!” MC screamed again, and Emma dropped her prey. Which hopped under the couch.

“Grumpy!” MC said, scrambling after it on her hands and knees. “It's Grumpy! Come here, Grumpy. Come here, little Grumpy!”

Grumpy wasn't interested in saying howdy at the moment. He was interested in staying alive. Emma was stalking him on her belly.

“Emma, leave the frog alone!” I yelled, poking at her. Emma ignored me and lunged for Grumpy. Grumpy leaped and went flying past my ear. Emma darted out after him. I whirled and lunged for Grumpy just as Emma pounced. My leg banged into Mom's reading lamp. Which fell over and crashed onto the coffee table. The lightbulb went
pop
and exploded in a big flash of blue light. Emma screeched and took off like she'd been plugged in. MC started to cry. “I left the door to my room open and Emma got in! I'm a bad mother! Grumpy got killed!”

I sat there blinking for a minute, then opened my hand. “No, he didn't,” I said. “Look! He's okay!” I had made the greatest one-handed froggie catch of all time, plucking little Grumpy right out of the kitty jaws of death. It was New Me spectacular.

“Oh, Grumpy!” MC said, grinning through her tears. “Grumpy!” She hugged me and gave me a big old sloppy lip kiss on the cheek. I was about to say, “Yuck! See if I do anything nice for you again!” But then I saw that the door of opportunity was open before me, and said, “Does this mean I can use your frogs for my science project?”

MC cuddled Grumpy and said, “Maybe.”

Which is really just MC's way of saying “Definitely.”

Sunday, May 27

Shouldn't have watched that sci-fi movie last night. It gave me nightmares. I dreamed about giant underwear invading Earth. They stomped down Polk Street right up to my house, and peeked in my window with searchlight eyes. I hid under the bed, but it was no use. A giant alien hand crashed through the wall and grabbed me. The next thing I knew, I was in a glass display case on Planet Underwear wearing nothing but Tweety Birds, and all the giant underwear was staring at me with their searchlight eyes. It was creepy!

Tuesday, May 29

Emerson showed up at school this morning looking sadder than a burned biscuit. When Ms. B asked what was the matter, he said, “It's Ralphster.”

Amy gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, no!”

Emerson blinked back a tear, gulped, and then told us that when he looked in the cage Saturday morning, Ralphster was lying on his side and wouldn't get up, not even for Cheerios. They took him to the vet, but the vet said Ralphster was just getting old, and there was nothing that could be done. Emerson stayed up most of the night Saturday looking after him, but he died anyway. Ralphster the hamster is dead and buried in Emerson's backyard.

Amy started crying and couldn't stop for a long time. Ms. B looked teary, too, but forced a smile and said we should be thankful Ralphster had such a full and happy life.

MC heard about Ralphster from Jordy. She asked me if a cat got him. I said no, but she didn't look convinced. She stood guard by the frogarium with a broom to sweep Emma into the next galaxy if she attacked again.

Wednesday, May 30

Went down for breakfast this morning to find MC grinning like a dog at a fire hydrant festival. “I feel so much better,” she said between heaping spoonfuls of oatmeal, “since I let my froggies go.”

I was still partly asleep (I've been known to wake up
after
I finish breakfast), so it took a few seconds for her words to sink in. When they finally did, I woke up fast. “You did
what?”

MC smiled proudly. “I couldn't stop worrying about them, so early this morning I let them loose in the creek in the park. I said, ‘Be free! Be free!' and they all hopped away!”

ARRRGH! Two days until the science fair. No project = no Incredible-Fantastic-End-of-the-Year Camp-Out. What am I going to do?!

Thursday, May 31

Worried all day yesterday about my science project. Went to sleep worrying about it. Woke up this morning worrying about it. Got up before dawn today and paced. Flopped on the floor and stared at the ceiling. Got mad and threw a shoe. It bounced off the dresser and landed by my head. And that—miracle of miracles—is when I remembered stinky feet!

I found the jar still in the back of my closet, right where I'd left it in early May. There was the Q-tip, right where I'd put it in the “medium.” With trembling fingers, I unscrewed the lid. “Please let it stink,” I prayed. “Please!”

Does it ever! It's easily a 9.9 on the Peeuw scale. I almost fainted. It's the best, most beautiful stink I ever smelled in my whole life!

Later, Thursday, May 31

Worked on my stinky feet project every chance at school. Raced home afterward and went straight to my room. Worked harder. Did everything Ms. B wants. Stated the scientific question: Why do feet stink? Have my stinky feet jar for the experiment. Made a poster for the display with a picture of a foot. Colored it in to look stinky, with lots of purple and scummy greens and browns. It may not be exactly what you had in mind, Ms. B, but it's done, and that's all you said I had to do. Look out, Incredible-Fantastic-End-of-the-Year Camp-Out, here I come!

Friday, June 1

Unveiled my stinky feet project today at the science fair. You should have seen Ms. B's face. Her eyes got real wide, and her eyebrows went up (which is a good sign, in case you didn't know).

Zach said, “Way cool, Cody!”

So now I'm Way Cool Cody Lee Carson! Who called Mom from school, and she said it's okay for Zach to spend the night tonight.

Yes!

Saturday, June 2

Zach just left from the sleepover. We had a great time. Turns out he likes sci-fi movies, just like me. He brought one I'd never heard of:
Attack of the Killer Tomatoes,
which is a goofy spoof of all those low-budget, grade B (or Z) flicks. We laughed so hard, our sides ached.

It inspired us to launch our own alien attack, on MC. It was Zach's idea. We held flashlights under our chins so we'd look scary, and then busted into MC's room drooling and making killer tomato noises. You should have seen MC jump. Mom and Dad got mad, but it was worth it. Zach said MC deserved to get scared after what she did to my frog project.

We sat up for a long time after that, whispering and laughing. Zach told lots of good stories about pranks he's pulled. Like the time he put flour on top of the blades of his cousin's ceiling fan. And the time he filled his third-grade teacher's umbrella with confetti, so when she opened it at the end of the day, little bits of paper rained down all over her. Personally, I don't think I'd have to nerve to do that, but Zach said, “It was no biggie.”

Sunday, June 3

MC said she's going to get me back for scaring her. “Just you wait, Cody!”

When I told Zach, he said, “Ha! Her and whose army?” Which is right. What can a kindergartner do to a fifth grader? Flashlights under the chin do
not
scare Way Cool Cody Lee Carson.

Monday, June 4

Today Ms. B drew names out of two hats—one for girls, one for boys—to divide us into tent partners for the Incredible-Fantastic-End-of-the-Year Camp-Out. Zach and I got drawn to be together.

We started whooping it up, until Ms. B said, “We have an odd number of boys.” And she put Emerson in with us.

Zach cussed under his breath, but then grinned and raised his hand and said, “My tent isn't big enough for three, Ms. B.” He whispered to me, “Especially when one person takes up as much room as Emerson.”

Emerson shrugged. “That's okay. I've got my own tent.”

He's going to cook with us, though, so we still had to plan our meals with him.

Ms. B budgeted eight dollars per person for groceries for the trip. Between Zach and Emerson and me, we'll have twenty-four dollars to spend. Ms. B said we had to come up with a “balanced menu.” She drew a picture of the food pyramid on the board. (You know: grains, fruits, veggies, protein, all that stuff.) Pointing to the smallest part, she said, “You'll notice that fats, oils, and sweets should be used only
sparingly.
You may plan a small dessert for Thursday night—s'mores are my personal campfire favorite—but
only”
—she really hit on that word—“
only
if you have leftover money after buying all the nutritious foods you need.”

Emerson said, “Can we bring extra candy or cans of pop from home?”

Ms. B said, “Absolutely not!” She looked around the room at each and every one of us. “Promise?”

We all nodded—“Promise, Ms. B!”—but Zach crossed his fingers under his desk.

Tuesday, June 5

Finished planning our menu first thing this morning. Ms. B gave us our cash, and the entire class marched to Richey's Market to buy groceries. As soon as Zach and Emerson and I hit the doors, we took off like men with a mission.

We shopped for dinner first. Zach got the bologna and hot dogs and canned chili (protein, Ms. B!). I went for the buns (grains). Emerson loaded up on Pringles, ketchup, and mustard (which are all veggies, in case you didn't know). Then we met at the produce section to pick out fruit.

But Zach doesn't like bananas. Emerson doesn't like pears. And I don't like apples that much. We were standing there arguing over what to buy, when Zach had a brainstorm. “Gummy bears! They're made with real fruit juice. It says so right on the package.” We went and looked, and Zach was right. It
is
fruit! So we got three.

Emerson said, “How about we get some more nutritious food like that for lunches and snacks!” So we did: candy
corn
(veggie), Cheetos (cheese = protein), jelly
beans
(more protein), peanut M&M's (nuts = even more protein), and more gummy bears (fruit).

Then we did the same for breakfast: powdered and chocolate-covered doughnuts (made from flour = grains), beef jerky (protein), frosted strawberry Pop-Tarts (strawberry = fruit), topped with maple syrup (comes from a tree, so it must be fruit juice).

When we were done, Zach surveyed our haul and said, “Are we good shoppers, or what?” I said, “We're so good we could get paid to shop for people!” Emerson said, “Yeah!” We gave each other high fives, and grinned at how clever we were.

Until Ms. B came around the corner. She took one look at our shopping cart and rolled her eyes. Then she made us put
all
the candy back. Which was a good thing, actually, because we were way over budget, as it turned out.

Still, what kind of Incredible-Fantastic-End-of-the-Year Camp-Out was this going to be without any
real
food? As we were grumbling our way through the checkout line, though, Zach whispered to me, “Don't worry, I'll bring survival rations.”

Wednesday, June 6

I'm finally done packing for the Incredible-Fantastic-End-of-the-Year Camp-Out. Got everything on Ms. B's list of stuff to bring. And all in one suitcase, just like she said. Oops! Except for a flashlight. Better go ask Dad if I can borrow his. Later!

Came back upstairs just now to find MC and Jordy running out of my room, giggling like sick hyenas. “Stay out of there!” I yelled. I checked to see what they'd messed with, but everything looked okay. Little curtain climbers. They should mind their own business!

But anyway, I won't have to put up with MC and Jordy for two whole days. Yahoo! Tomorrow Way Cool Cody Lee Carson is
finally
off on the Incredible-Fantastic-End-of-the-Year Camp-Out. This is going to be so much fun!

Friday, June 8

There are times in life when no matter how carefully you plan for things to go right, just about anything that can go wrong will go wrong. This is called Murphy's Law. I've never met Mr. Murphy, but whoever he is, he must have been thinking about our Incredible-Fantastic-End-of-the-Year Camp-Out when he came up with his law. Read on. You'll see what I mean.…

Ms. B's Carefully Planned Schedule for Things to Go Right:
8:30—Roll call, then load cars in the Garfield parking lot.

Life According to Murphy's Law:
8:30—Stuff is scattered all over the classroom: sleeping bags, suitcases, coolers full of food, kids, parent chaperones with mugs of coffee. Everyone is talking at the same time. Except Emerson, who is late. Zach teases Libby about her Superwoman sleeping bag. Amy tells Zach to be quiet. Zach tells Amy to be quiet. Ms. B tells everybody to be quiet. Everybody talks at the same time. Except for Emerson, who is still late.

Ms. B's Carefully Planned Schedule for Things to Go Right:
8:45—Convoy of cars leaves for the Metolius River fish hatchery.

Life According to Murphy's Law:
8:45—Emerson is still missing. Ms. B sends Libby to the office to call him and see what's up. Sends the rest of us to the parking lot to load cars.