Laugh Till You Cry (2 page)

Cody shrugged. “Sometimes the teachers laughed, too. But there were a few who never did.”

“There’s a time and a place for humor,” Jake began. “When your teachers—”

Cody didn’t let him finish. “I know that now. I haven’t told any jokes here,” he said.

“Not even to your friends?”

Cody slumped against the seat. “I don’t have any friends in Houston.”

“You do now,” he said as they shook. “Here’s my card. Call me if you want to talk.” He picked up a notepad and pen. “And give me your grandmother’s phone number so I can get in touch with you if I need more material. It’s tough to put a good act together.”

Cody left the patrol car feeling the best he’d felt since arriving in Texas. He’d not only found a new friend in Texas who laughed at his jokes, he’d even sold one of them! He liked making up jokes, and he’d never imagined he could make money selling them. Maybe he’d start typing his jokes on the computer and then printing—

His good feeling quickly left as he saw Hayden rounding the corner. Cody dashed the rest of the way into the house, slammed the door behind him, and dropped his backpack on the floor.

His mother appeared. “Cody! Please don’t be so noisy. Your grandmother is sleeping! How many times do I have to remind you to come in quietly?”

“Sorry, Mom,” Cody said sheepishly. He took a step toward her, expecting the hug with which she usually greeted him.

But she was frowning. “Why did you come home in a police car?” she asked.

It took Cody a moment to realize what his mother must have been thinking. He laughed. “Don’t worry—I’m not in any trouble!” he tried to explain. “Jake—that’s the officer’s name—gave me a ride home. He’s a musician and a cop, but what he really wants to be is a stand-up comic, and I told him a joke, and he liked it, and—”

“Cody,” Mrs. Carter interrupted. “You’re not answering the question I asked you. Why did you come home in a police car?”

Cody took a deep breath. “Hayden and his friends were chasing me,” he said. “They were going to put my head in the toilet at school and drown me.”

Mrs. Carter sighed. “Cody, I don’t understand why you and your cousin can’t get along and be friends. If you have any disagreements, surely you’re old enough to talk things over with Hayden and work out the problem.”

“While he’s stuffing my head in a toilet?”

“He wouldn’t do anything like that. You’re letting your imagination get out of hand.”

“My imagination? Mom, don’t make me laugh.”

Mrs. Carter walked over to a sofa and dropped onto it. She rested her head against the high back and for a moment closed her eyes. “I know it’s difficult for you to be away from your friends and have to go to a new school. But, Cody, dear, your grandmother is ill, and I need your help and cooperation.”

Cody sat next to his mother. “I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t mean to get you mad.”

“I’m not mad, and I’m not the one to worry about,” Mrs. Carter told him. “It’s your grandmother, Cody. Please get along with Hayden. It’s important to Grandma. Do you understand?”

“Sure, Mom,” Cody said. He tried to smile at her, but all he could think about was his cousin and what he could do to protect himself the next time he had to face Hayden. He was pretty sure Hayden didn’t care about what was important to their grandmother.

Cody heard the light ring of the little silver bell on the nightstand in his grandmother’s room.

His mother pulled herself to her feet and held out a hand to him. “Grandma’s awake,” she said. “I know she’ll want to see you. As soon as she’s ready, would you like a short visit with her?”

“Sure, Mom,” Cody said. Living so far away, he had only seen his grandmother at holidays until this visit, but she had always been fun, and he loved her.

Cody waited until his mother called to him, then walked quietly into his grandmother’s dimly lit bedroom. The bright-eyed, slightly plump woman, who had taken him on roller coaster rides at Astroworld, taught him about penguins at Moody Gardens’ aquarium, and helped him stand in the dinosaur footprints at the Museum of Natural Science, seemed to have shrunk into a smaller, paler copy of herself.

Cody gulped and tried not to show what he was thinking. Every time he saw his grandmother, he felt the
same sick jolt. Grandma shouldn’t look like this. Grandmothers were supposed to stay the same and not change.

Dorothy Norton smiled from her bed and held out a hand.

Cody tiptoed to her, carefully holding her paper-dry fingers as if they might break. “Hi, Grandma,” he whispered.

“Hi, Cody,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Why are you whispering? Is someone asleep?”

Cody laughed. “I thought I had to be quiet,” he said.

“That’s a change.” She giggled. “When you were little, you liked to jump up and down on my bed and yell.”

“I remember!”

She squeezed his fingers. “I’m sorry we’ve always lived so far apart. We didn’t get to spend nearly enough time together. I’d like to have taught you to play chess and to Rollerblade, as I did with Hayden.”

Cody felt a weird twist in his stomach and knew it must be jealousy. Of course his grandma had spent much more time with Hayden, who lived right next door. And because she knew Hayden a lot better than she did him, she probably loved Hayden more, too. Being Hayden’s grandmother, she wouldn’t think of him as the snot-nosed bully he really was.

“What happened today that was interesting?” Mrs. Norton asked.

Cody sat on the edge of the bed and smiled. His grandma never asked things like “How was school today?” or “Did you have a nice day?” She asked questions that people wanted to answer.

“I met this really neat police officer who’s also a musician and who wants to be a stand-up comic,” Cody said. Leaving out his reason for meeting Jake Ramsey, Cody
found himself telling his grandma about the Texas joke and Jake’s paying cash for it.

“You know what a stand-up comic is, don’t you?” he asked.

Mrs. Norton laughed. “Of course! Jay Leno, Robin Williams, Chris Rock. Is this guy Jake Ramsey funny?”

“I don’t know,” Cody said.

“I’ve got some old
Reader’s Digest
magazines in the garage,” she said. “Maybe you can find some jokes he’d like in those.”

“No, Grandma,” Cody explained. “Comics have to use original stuff, not somebody else’s material.”

“Was that joke you told me about Texas original?”

“Yes,” Cody said. “Sometimes I make up jokes.”

“Wow!” Mrs. Norton said. “Not many people can do that. It’s a special talent.”

Cody smiled, feeling proud of himself. At least his grandma appreciated what he could do, even if Hayden and the other kids didn’t. He would bet that Hayden couldn’t make up jokes. Hayden probably had enough trouble just making up his mind to get up in the morning.

“How are you doing in English class?” Mrs. Norton asked.

Cody gave a start. “Fine,” he said. “Well, not exactly fine. Maybe okay.” He sighed. “Not exactly okay, either. Ms. Jackson’s kind of hard.”

“Ms. Jackson? I used to know all the English teachers when I taught English at Farnsworth. But I don’t know a Ms. Jackson.”

“She’s new this year,” Cody said. “She’s a lot younger than most of those other teachers, Grandma. Some of them have probably been teaching there a hundred years, but Ms. Jackson told us she’s only been a teacher for two.”

He sighed. “She’s making us read
Hamlet.
She said it was time we learned to appreciate William Shakespeare.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Mrs. Norton told him.

Cody shook his head. “People in Texas talk different than people in California, but at least I can understand what they’re saying. Shakespeare wrote in English, so the words look right, but the way he put them together hardly makes any sense at all.”

“Maybe I can help you,” Mrs. Norton said. “I haven’t been retired that long. Bring me your book and we can go over anything that’s troubling you.”

Cody hopped up from the bed just as his mother appeared in the doorway. “I think you’ve been visiting with Grandma long enough, Cody,” she said. “We don’t want to tire her.”

“But Grandma is going to help me with my English homework,” he complained.

“Not right now.” Mrs. Carter’s tone was firm. “Later.”

“Later, Cody,” Mrs. Norton echoed. For a moment she closed her eyes, and he could see the exhaustion on her face.

Dejected, he walked into the living room, picked up his backpack, and dumped the contents on the coffee table. For a moment he panicked. Where was his paperback copy of
Hamlet
?

With a sick feeling, he dropped into a nearby chair. He must have left the book in his locker at school. He had meant to put it in his backpack, but he’d seen Hayden heading his way, and he’d been in a hurry to escape. He had no choice about what to do next. He couldn’t skip reading his homework or he’d be in big trouble. He’d have to race back to school and get the book.

Cody paused at the door to his grandmother’s room
and whispered, “Mom? I’m going out. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

As he stepped out the front door, he looked carefully in both directions, but there was no sign of Hayden, Brad, or Eddie. They were probably holed up in his aunt and uncle’s backyard shed, which they’d turned into their secret clubhouse.

“You keep out,” Hayden had said the first time his parents had invited Cody and Mrs. Carter over. “The clubhouse is our secret and none of your business.”

Cody was only too glad to keep out. He wanted no part of anything his cousin was into—secret or not. It didn’t make any difference to him what dumb stuff Hayden kept in that shed.

It was only six blocks to the Oliver J. Farnsworth Middle School, three blocks south of San Felipe. Cody set off at a jog, wishing he could have brought his bike with him from California. The hot late-September sun beat against his neck and shoulders, and he longed for the cool breezes that blew off the Pacific Ocean in Santa Olivia.

When Cody arrived at the massive redbrick building, the heavy front doors were locked. He peered inside through one of the big side windows and saw that the central hallway was empty.

The cleaning staff must be there, he thought. Maybe he could find one of them and they’d let him in. He walked around the building until he came to the west side. He saw some narrow steps, partly hidden on each side by large, spreading ligustrum bushes. They led down a half flight to a door. Hoping it was open, Cody tried the handle, but it was locked.
Shoot
, he thought.
How am I going to get in the building to get my book?
He cupped
his hands against the glass panel in the door, trying to see inside.

The door opened so suddenly that Cody was thrown off balance. A hand gripped his shoulder, and an angry voice said, “Just what are you doing here?”

Cody looked up into the frowning face of a woman in dark slacks and blouse, with a lanyard and whistle draped around her neck. “I left one of my books in my locker,” he said. “I came back to get it.”

“You know the rules. No students allowed in the school past five p.m. unless they have legitimate business here.”

“I have legitimate business,” Cody said. “I need to get a book I accidentally left in my locker so I can do my homework.”

The woman studied him. “You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” she said. “Are you a student at Farnsworth?”

“Yes,” Cody said. “But I’m new this semester. I’m from California. I came here with my mom, to live with and take care of my grandmother.”

“What’s your name?”

“Cody Carter. My grandmother Dorothy Norton used to teach here.”

The tightness in the teacher’s face softened. “I’m Coach Anderson,” she said, “and I know your grandmother well. Where is this book you need, Cody?”

“In my locker.”

She nodded. “I’ll go with you to get your book. But after this, remember the rules. We can’t continue to make exceptions.”

“Thanks,” Cody mumbled, not sure what else he should say. He stepped inside the building, which reeked of pine-scented cleanser. He followed the coach past the
open door of a janitor’s closet and up six steps to the silent hallway. From there it was a short distance to his locker. He couldn’t help feeling like a prisoner marching with a warden. His fingers fumbled with the dial on his combination lock, and twice he went past the right numbers.

Finally, he managed to open his locker. He took out his copy of
Hamlet
and turned the dial, locking it again.

Once again they made their silent march down the hallway, and he stepped outside with a sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” he called, but the door had shut and the coach had disappeared. He stood for a moment in the small, shaded space, enjoying the sense of being hidden from the rest of the world by the overgrown bushes, but he realized it was getting late and he had a lot of homework to do. He went down the few steps and started for home at a trot.

Cody was too hot and tired to jog very far, but he walked briskly, book in hand, his mind returning to Officer Jake Ramsey and his need for jokes. He liked the idea of earning money for making up jokes.

How about food? Everybody thinks about food. Fast food. Hamburgers. What would a stand-up comic say? Maybe … The government says we’re all getting too fat. We have to give up hamburgers and start eating broccoli and spinach and string beans instead. Try telling that to my cousin Hayden. He thinks the four food groups are Hamburger, Cheeseburger, Chiliburger, and Coke.

And speaking of broccoli … modern science has discovered that you can count on broccoli doing three important things for you. It strengthens your muscles, brightens your vision, and leaves green stuff between your front teeth.

Suddenly, as Cody turned onto the block where his
grandmother lived, someone leaped out at him from a bush, and an arm was thrown around his neck. He was jerked backward, and his book was snatched from his hand.

“Hamlet,”
Hayden said with a sneer as he examined it. “Don’t tell me you’re going to study it tonight? I didn’t think you could read.”

“Give it back,” Cody demanded. He ducked and twisted and pulled away from Eddie’s grip.