Laugh Till You Cry (7 page)

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry but I haven’t got time to help you look for it now,” Mrs. Norton said. “Bye, boys.” She followed Alma into the kitchen, and soon Cody heard
the back door shut and his aunt’s car move down the driveway.

He wished his aunt had stayed home. At least Alma was here. Hayden wouldn’t try something in front of Alma. Cody knew his best defense against Hayden was to stay right where he was, where Alma could see and hear him. He’d work on his
Hamlet
project, now that he’d decided what it was going to be.

But he couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Bobby had said.

Bobby had admitted that he hadn’t been at school the day before. That meant he would have been free to make the call from the pay phone. He seemed to think it was funny that Hayden, Brad, and Eddie had tried to make everybody blame Cody. He wouldn’t think that was funny unless he knew how wrong it was. Had Bobby made that call? It hadn’t occurred to Cody until this second that it could have been someone who was not in school that day.

There was a knock at the back door, and Cody could hear Alma talking to someone. In a few minutes she came into the dining room and said, “Hayden, Brad and Eddie are here to see you.”

Hayden said to Alma, “Tell them to wait for me in the clubhouse. I’m almost through with this chapter.” But he didn’t look at Alma. He stared at Cody.

Alma left, and Hayden said to Cody, “
You
stay out. Understand?” and he walked out.

Cody didn’t answer. He just stared back. He didn’t want to go with them into their dumb old clubhouse.

He heard Alma say in the kitchen, “Hayden, did you bring down your pants with the torn pocket, like I asked you to?”

“I forgot,” Hayden said.

“Then if you’d please run upstairs and get them for me, I’d—”

“Sorry,” he called, and the back door banged shut.

Alma’s heels clicked across the floor as she walked through the kitchen and into the dining room, muttering under her breath. But she stopped as she glanced at Cody.

“Cody,” she said, “I’ve got to keep an eye on the cookies I’ve got in the oven. Would you mind running upstairs to Hayden’s bedroom? It’s the first room on the right. There’s a pair of those khaki pants you boys wear to school. You’ll probably find them on the floor or thrown over a chair. They’ve got a tear in the right pocket. Would you get them for me, please?”

The buzzer on the oven timer went off, and she hurried back into the kitchen without waiting for his answer.

Cody got up slowly. There was no telling what horrible thing Hayden would think of to do if he found Cody in his room. But Alma had asked him to go up there, and he couldn’t refuse. Hayden was out in his clubhouse and wouldn’t be likely to come back for a while.

Cody made his way to the front staircase and climbed the stairs. He opened the door of Hayden’s room and walked inside.

He had expected Hayden’s room to be messy, but it wasn’t. He’d forgotten that Aunt Rosalie and Alma would pick up after Hayden. The bed was neatly made, and although there were piles of books, papers, and CDs on the chest of drawers and desk, they’d been pushed into orderly rows. Even the little red fish on the computer’s screen saver swam in orderly lines.

There was no sign of the torn pants on the chair or floor.

Cody opened the door of the closet. There on the floor were the pants, dumped onto a pile with a couple of
Hayden’s T-shirts. Cody bent down and picked up the pants, ready to search for a torn pocket. But his shoe dislodged a brown paper grocery bag that was under the pile of dirty clothing.

Cody reached down to return the bag to the spot where it had been, but its contents puzzled him. The bag felt firm but soft and pliable under his fingers.

Curious about what might be in the paper bag, he opened it. Inside, he found a large plastic two-pound sack of powdered sugar.

It must be the sugar Alma had said was missing from the kitchen. Why would it be hidden on the floor of Hayden’s closet? Powdered sugar? It made no sense.

Suddenly Cody heard footsteps outside the door and Eddie’s voice asking, “You’ve got it up here?”

Dropping the pants and T-shirts back on top of the paper bag, Cody dove into Hayden’s closet and shut the door. He squirmed as far back behind the clothing as he could go, desperately hoping he was well hidden.

He heard Hayden answer right outside the closet door. “I couldn’t sneak it out to the clubhouse. This seemed like the best place to hide it at the moment.”

As the closet door opened, Cody’s heart banged so loudly he was afraid Hayden would be able to hear it. He closed his eyes.

Cody heard the rustle of paper as the bag was picked up. The door closed with a snap, and he leaned back against the wall, weak and shaken.

He heard Eddie say, “This ought to do it. They’ll think it’s him.”

“It was lucky for us he disappeared during lunch period. That made it easy,” Brad said. He giggled and added, “We better make sure he’s still in the dining room.”

“Where else would he be?” said Eddie. “We can’t go through there and take the chance that Alma will see us. We’ll go out through the front door, the way we came in.”

Cody was surprised to hear Hayden say, “I don’t know about this, guys. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Don’t worry so much, Hayden,” Eddie responded. “It’s a great idea!”

As the voices moved farther away, Cody heard Hayden ask, “Are you sure you know how to make it all work?”

“Positive, I got the—”

The bedroom door shut, and the room was silent.

Cody waited a moment, making sure they had gone, before he climbed out from behind the clothing. He was breathing hard and his palms were wet. He had to lean against the wall and wait for his heart to slow down and his legs to stop wobbling before he could pick up Hayden’s pants and go downstairs.

Alma met him in the dining room. “I was coming to look for you,” she said. “What took you so long?”

“I—I was trying to find the pants,” Cody said as he held them out to her. “They were on the floor of the closet.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the pants from him. “I’ll bring you some cookies as soon as they’ve cooled. I sprinkled a little granulated sugar on them. They’re not the same as when they’re rolled in powdered sugar, but they still taste good.”

As though she had done it a thousand times, Alma quickly turned the pants’ pockets inside out and removed two quarters, a pack of chewing gum, and a scrap of paper. She glanced at the paper and tossed it, with the gum and coins, on the table.

The paper lay in front of Cody, faceup. He couldn’t help seeing that the only thing written on it was a phone number—starting with the local area code, 713, followed by 555. The last four numbers—4321, like a countdown—were odd enough to remember.

Cody smiled at Alma and forced himself to go back to the table and face the list of topics. What could he say about Hamlet’s decision to avenge his father?

When he thought of the word
father
, he realized again how much he missed his own. Suddenly he had an idea.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, by interrogating the members of the court who are still left standing—who, I must admit, aren’t many—I have been able to prove to you that Hamlet was not in his right mind. In
fact, we might say that he was one Danish short of a complete breakfast. He had the chance to keep on being Prince of Denmark, but he really blew it. Because of a murderous uncle, a dishonest mother, and a ghostly father, he—

“Here’s a plate of cookies and a glass of milk for you,” Alma said, so close to Cody’s ear that he jumped.

It wasn’t until after dinner that Cody had a chance to visit with his grandmother.

“I told you I’d help you with the paper you need to write about
Hamlet
,” she reminded him.

He helped fluff up her pillows and asked, “Do you feel like it, Grandma? Are you sure you aren’t too tired?”

“As a matter of fact, I feel much better,” she said. “I think this new medication is just what I needed. I helped Hayden with his theme, and now it’s your turn.”

Cody looked at her in surprise. “When was Hayden here?”

“We did our work over the telephone,” she answered. “Hayden called while you were helping clean the kitchen. Now, what’s your topic?”

“How Hamlet avenges his father’s murder in the last scene of the play.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Norton said. “I think you’d better pick another topic. That’s the one Hayden chose. I can’t give you both the same advice.”

Cody swallowed what he wanted to say. Hayden had asked what his idea was and then had used it. He should have expected Hayden to do something mean like that. Cody thought fast.

“Grandma,” Cody said, “I’d like to write about Hamlet’s state of mind—whether he was just pretending to be
crazy or really was. But everybody has a different opinion. Nobody is sure.”

“Then write about the various possibilities,” she said. “It’s an interesting idea.”

Cody sighed. “Okay, if you help me, Grandma,” he said.

“Of course I will,” she answered. “Get your notebook and pen, and we’ll get busy.”

The next morning, when Cody’s alarm clock sounded, he woke up feeling pretty good. Maybe, he thought, it was because his
Hamlet
project had been written and was no longer on his mind. With his grandmother’s help, his report was okay. Well, maybe more than okay. In fact, it was good. He was counting on getting a good grade.

Before leaving for school, he put the report inside the top drawer of his dresser for safekeeping. He arrived at school with just enough time to dump some books in his locker and get to his first class before the bell rang. Down the hall he noticed Bobby ambling into one of the science rooms. He wondered again if Bobby had made the threatening phone call.

Jake had said that most calls like that were simply pranks by people who were bored, or were carrying a grudge, or just didn’t think about right and wrong. Did that fit Bobby? It wasn’t any secret that Bobby barely made it from one grade to the next. Would that make him bored or angry enough to threaten the school? And was it just a threat? Or would he do something about it?

Cody shook himself and settled down at his desk. The whole thing was over, there hadn’t been a second phone call, and he wasn’t going to waste any more time
thinking about it. He wasn’t thinking about anything that had happened the day before, either. That Hayden—wouldn’t it be great if he could really tell his mother and grandmother the truth?

At lunch period, as Cody stopped off at his locker, Hayden shoved him so hard he slammed against the wall, dropping his books.

“Cut it out!” Cody yelled.

He bent to pick up his books, but Brad kicked one of them out of his reach. Eddie scooped up Cody’s notebook. “Got your
Hamlet
paper in here?” he asked.

“No, I haven’t!” Cody tried to reach for his notebook, but Hayden got in the way.

“Betcha haven’t even written it yet,” Brad taunted.

“None of your business.”

Hayden grinned at Cody and said, “Nobody cares, cousin. Don’t sweat it.” He took the notebook from Eddie and shoved it hard into Cody’s stomach.

Cody grabbed it and watched the Triple Trouble saunter down the hall in the direction of the cafeteria. Quickly he retrieved his books and stuffed everything into his locker. The hallway was emptying fast, and he needed to catch up with the others and be seen in the cafeteria.

Twice Cody saw Hayden turn to look at him. Then from the corner of his eye, he caught the movement of someone going in the opposite direction. He turned and noticed Bobby opening a door and slipping through, shutting it behind him.

Cody knew that it was the door to the school’s basement. It had a large
KEEP OUT
sign posted on it, and only the janitors were allowed to open it.

Bobby didn’t belong in there with all the machinery that kept the heaters and air conditioners and water supply and electrical units going. Cody had to find out what Bobby was up to. He jogged to the door, opened it, and followed Bobby’s path.

Cement steps led down to a large, deep basement, which was lit with bright exposed lightbulbs. Ahead of Cody, as he walked down the stairs, were large machines that hummed and rattled and purred and even hissed. There were passageways between them, and Cody walked through one of them. With the noise from the machinery, no one could hear his footsteps, but he couldn’t hear Bobby’s, either. As he passed the last of the machines, he found himself facing a small, square room with an open door. Inside were a desk, a chair, and a few old file cabinets. The room was empty, so where was Bobby? How could he just disappear?

Cody was ready to retrace his steps when he realized there was another door, partially hidden behind a battered old screen. Hesitantly, he took hold of the doorknob and slowly turned it, pulling on the door.

It opened to the outside. Cody walked up a flight of cement steps and emerged on the side street next to the school. Could this be the way Bobby had gone? Cody hadn’t been that far behind him. Surely, he should have been able to see him somewhere on the block.

But Cody realized that Bobby had seemed to know where he was going, as though he’d used this route before. Cody, in contrast, had been slow and cautious in following him. A couple of minutes’ difference would have made it easy for Bobby to disappear from sight.

Cody descended the steps and reached out to open the door to the janitors’ office. He tugged, but the knob
wouldn’t turn in his hand. Apparently, the door had locked automatically, and he wouldn’t be able to get back in.

He had no choice but to walk around the block to either the front doors or the yard in back. Cody groaned as he realized he’d probably have some explaining to do. He just hoped it wouldn’t be to Coach Anderson.

Cody saw her at the same time she spied him. Standing by the wire fence that surrounded the schoolyard, Coach Anderson spotted Cody, started with surprise, and went to meet him at the gate.

“What were you doing off campus?” she demanded.

Cody had his mouth open, ready to explain, when the school’s loud alarm went off.