Cody and the Mysteries of the Universe

  1: Welcome!

  2: Mr. Meen

  3: Spies

  4: Eyes Do Not Wear Clothes

  5: Into Thin Air

  6: The Spindle

  7: Eraser Eater

  8: The P Word

  9: The Baton of Love

  10: Left Out

  11: The Fort

  12: Precious Possession

  13: Asleep On the Job

  14: Crime Scene

  15: You Humans

  16: Big Boss

  17: Fight to the Finish

  18: Stung

  19: YOU ARE . . .

  In this life, many things are hard to wait for:

  Your turn

  Your birthday

  Being allowed to get a real tattoo

  But if Cody had to name the hardest thing of all, it would be waiting for her best friend, Spencer.

  This was not ordinary waiting. This was big-time waiting. Because Spencer wasn’t just coming for a visit, like usual. He was coming for good! He was moving in with his grandmother, right around the corner. It was Cody’s dream come true.

  Except where was that boy, anyway?

  Cody waited with Spencer’s grandmother, otherwise known as GG, on GG’s front porch. They’d made a WELCOME sign. They’d baked Spencer’s favorite cookies: mucho chocolate chips, zero nuts.

  Everything was at the ready.

  Cody squinted toward the corner. She petted GG’s cat, MewMew. MewMew was deaf, so Cody did cat sign language for “Any minute now!”

  She did all this six gazillion times. Give or take.

  “Patience is a virtue.” GG cleaned her glasses on her T-shirt. She put them back on, and then she squinted toward the corner, too.

  Still no Spencer.

  Maybe their car broke down. Or they got lost. Maybe his parents changed their minds and decided not to move here after all. A cloud of worry threw its dark shadow over Cody.

  “Don’t worry.” GG was a teacher. She could read minds.

  Cody tried her best to un-worry. She looked around the front porch, which was an interesting place. GG lived in a side-by-side. Her side had flowerpots and wind chimes. It had a swing with comfy tie-dye pillows.

  The other side had a rusty chair and a plant that was dying of thirst. Taped to the window was a skull-and-crossbones flag. The name on the mailbox was MEEN.

  So far, Cody had never seen a Meen. Which is a poem!

  Also a mystery. Who were the Meens? Were they pirates out sailing the high seas? Vampires who feared the light? Or just extremely shy people?

  Life holds many mysteries. Cody planned to solve this one. Just as soon as Spencer got here to help.

  Squint, squint, squint.

  Pet, pet, pet.

  Sigh, sigh, sigh.

  Whoa!

  A car pulling a trailer turned the corner. GG and Cody rocketed off the porch.

  One big hugging festival, that’s what they all had.

  Good old Spencer looked just the same — irresistible curls, round face, and thick glasses. He and Cody did their special, secret ant greeting. When ants meet, they touch feelers. That is ant for “So glad to see you, old buddy!” Now Spencer and Cody touched foreheads and gave a little rub-a-dub-dub. One of the many important things Cody had taught Spencer was to admire ants.

  The trailer was packed from top to bottom. Spencer’s father, Mr. Pickett, looked from the trailer to GG’s little house and back again. He scratched his head.

  “Don’t worry,” said GG, Reader of Minds. “Everything will fit. Love always fits! It’s a scientific fact.”

  Everyone started pulling boxes out of the trailer. Cody reached for an interesting-shaped case.

  “Careful!” Spencer said in a voice of alarm.

  “I’m always careful.”

  “Not always,” he said. “Not in my experience.”

  Careful was Spencer’s middle name. Cody was more of an action person, herself.

  “What’s in that case, anyway?” she said. “Gold doubloons? A tiny mummy?”

  “My violin.”

  “Really?” Cody was impressed. “You never told me you play the violin.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “You just forget.”

  “Me?” Impressed turned into insulted. “I never forget stuff!”

  “Sometimes you do. In my experience.”

  Whew. Cody had forgotten how difficult this boy could be.

  No, she hadn’t! She never forgot stuff!

  “Cody.” GG put an arm around her. She whispered in Cody’s ear. “Spencer’s had a long day. Poor pumpkin’s tuckered out and a little cranky. Why don’t you say good-bye and come back tomorrow?”

  Good-bye? Tomorrow? This was not the plan. What about solving the mystery? What about eating the cookies?

  “Remember,” GG whispered. “Patience is a virtue.”

  If Cody was in charge of the English language, that word would go right out the window.

  Patience. The next morning, Cody gave it a try.

  First she patiently practiced eating cereal right-handed. She patiently helped Mom choose her outfit for work. Mom was Head of Shoes at O’Becker Department Store, and appearances were very important.

  After Mom left, she patiently fed toast crusts to the ants in the front yard and sang them “You Are My Sunshine.” The ants loved this song, which was her and Dad’s favorite. Back inside, she patiently counted the calendar for how many days till Dad, who was a trucker, got home. Too many, as usual. She even read a whole chapter of her boring summer reading book.

  Almost a whole chapter.

  Patience really took it out of you. When she couldn’t wait one second longer, Cody ran upstairs to her big brother Wyatt’s room. He was still asleep, of course. Wyatt was a genius, so his brain required extra rest.

  Wyatt’s room was fascinating. Mom said someday she was going to call in archaeologists to do an excavation. Cody took the opportunity to examine some of his if-you-touch-this-you-die stuff. She dug through the piles of clothes on the floor and selected the T-shirt he got at doctor camp. I ♥ BLOOD AND GUTS, it said. She pulled it on. It smelled like Wyatt’s anti-pimple soap.

  “I’m going to GG’s,” she said. “Spencer and I are going to spy on the Meens. Want to come?”

  Wyatt flopped his skinny arm around.

  “Is that a yes?” Cody asked patiently.

  “Three days till school,” he said in his computer voice. “Must maximize sleep.”

  School? Already? This was the problem with summer vacation. First it was like a beautiful blue sea. You sailed along, having wonderful adventures. You were free as a dolphin! Happy as a mermaid! You forgot all about life on shore and then clunk! Your boat hit a rock. The voyage was over.

  “Are you sure?”

  “My data is always accurate,” said Computerized Wyatt.

  “Then there’s no time to waste. Adiós, amigo.”

  Cody loved the in-between times of day, like now, when morning slipped into afternoon. Her neighbor, wearing a hat shaped like a flying saucer, was digging in the garden. Her baby sat in the grass, licking a Popsicle. A little brown dog licked the baby’s knee. Everyone waved to Cody — well, not the dog. Any other day, she’d stop for a chat. But today she had a mission.

  A truck was just pulling up in front of GG’s. On the side was a picture of a beetle with its legs in the air and Xs for eyes. BIG OR SMALL, WE GET THEM ALL, it said.

  A man climbed out. He was so tall, he had to unfold himself like a beach chair. His beard was wild and red. His big boots clomped across the grass, up the front steps, and through the Meen door.

/>   A Meen! Cody had finally seen a Meen!

  She raced up the steps and knocked on GG’s door. When Spencer came out, he did some blinking, like a boy still surprised to be here.

  “Guess what?” Cody said. “I saw Mr. Meen! He’s got muscles on top of muscles.”

  Spencer sat down on the swing. His curls were perky on one side but smushed on the other.

  “Also,” said Cody, “he’s a cold-blooded murderer.”

  Spencer’s eyes went wide. Cody sat beside him and started up the swing.

  “A bug murderer,” she said.

  “Oh. Whew.” Spencer looked relieved. “Bugs. That’s different.”

  Cody stopped that swing cold. Plonk went Spencer’s head against the back.

  “Would you like it if a bug said that about you? Oh. Whew. A human. That’s different.” She crossed her arms. “Murder is murder.”

  Usually Spencer liked to argue. He called it debating. But today he just rubbed his plonked head. When he finally spoke, it was in a voice of quiet.

  “School starts in three days,” he said. “I won’t know where the bathrooms are. I won’t know where to put my jacket. I won’t know any kids.”

  And he said she forgot things! Poor Spencer. Cody started the swing up again. Nice and slow this time, the way he liked.

  “You’ll know me. We won’t be in the same class, but I’ll take care of you.”

  Spencer stopped frowning. Cody made the swing go a tiny bit faster.

  “I’ll teach you which lunch ladies are nice. And which water fountain tastes disgusting. I’ll introduce you to my friend Pearl. I already told her all about you.”

  Like sun slowly peeping from behind a cloud, that was Spencer’s smile.

  “Everything will be perfect,” Cody told him.

  But then a terrible thought made her stop the swing so fast, both their heads hit the back. Plonk plonk.

  “I mean. Unless . . .”

  “Unless what?”

  “Never mind.” Cody tried to start swinging again, but Spencer put his foot down.

  “You have to tell me!”

  “Unless . . . you get the Spindle.”

  “The Spindle! Is that a teacher? Is she really mean? She sounds really, really mean.”

  This was the wrong road to go down.

  “Let’s not talk about school.” Cody poked his smushed curls to perk them up. “It’s not for three whole days. Anyway, speaking of mean, want to spy on Mr. Meen?”

  Spencer took forever to decide things, even no-brainers like spying on a murderer.

  Cody waited. Patience is a virtue, after all.

  Also, patience is a pain in the neck.

  “Sure, you do!” She grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

  They crouched under the skull-and-crossbones window.

  “You keep watch,” Cody whispered.

  “For what?” Spencer whispered.

  “In case Mr. Murderer Meen rushes out.”

  Spencer crawled away backward. Crawl crawl crawl, right under the swing.

  “I can watch from here,” he whispered.

  Holding her breath, Cody peeked over the window ledge. Mr. Meen lay asleep on a couch. His cap was over his eyes. His mouth hung open. Whoa! Were those gold teeth? Cody flattened her hands on the window ledge to get a better look.

  A fiery dagger stabbed her palm.

  “Oh! Ow, ow!”

  An angry yellow jacket shot up in front of her. In all of the insect kingdom, yellow jackets were Cody’s last favorite. This one zigged and zagged, aiming toward Spencer.

  “No! Help!” He tried to get away and bumped his head on the swing. “Ow! No!”

  “What’s going on?” The Meen door swung wide. “Somebody getting murdered out here?”

  A useful thing to know — yellow jackets are not scared of anybody. Not even men with pirate beards and muscles on top of muscles, who just got woken up from their naps and are not in what you’d call a good mood.

  That fearless, foolish yellow jacket flew straight at Mr. Meen. He crashed his big hands together like cymbals. Smack! With a face of disgust, he dusted that very dead yellow jacket onto the floor.

  “Bugs!” he growled. “If I never see another one, it’ll be too soon.”

  He turned on his heel and clomped back inside.

  Spencer crawled out from under the swing. He and Cody stared at her hand.

  “Oh no! It stung you two times!” Spencer looked ready to faint. “Are you allergic? Stings can be fatal.”

  Cody’s knees began to wobble. Tears spurted into her eyes. The red bumps on her hand hypnotized her. She could not stop looking at them. If it wasn’t for Spencer, she might have stood there frozen forever. But her friend opened the door and led her inside.

  “Poor pumpkin!” cried GG. She was making biscuits. She wiped Cody’s wet cheeks with a floury finger, then examined her hand. “That’s just a local reaction,” she said. “You’ll be fine. I’ll disinfect it.”

  Cody tried for a face of courage. This was hard, because her salty tears and GG’s flour had pasted her cheeks together.

  It got even harder when GG took out an unfriendly-looking brown bottle that said HYDRO-something.

  “Be brave,” whispered Spencer. He rubbed his forehead against hers. You can do it, buddy!

  Cody squinched her eyes. Something cool and wet swiped her hand.

  “All done!” said GG.

  Cody opened her eyes. The red bumps were still there, but she felt better.

  “That yellow jacket was so little,” she said. “How could it hurt so much?”

  “Small things can pack a big punch.” GG hugged both of them. “That goes for the two of you!”

  GG wrapped up some of the special welcome cookies, and some warm biscuits, and some tomatoes and green beans from her garden. By the time Cody left, she had a big grocery bag.

  Mr. Meen was on the porch drinking soda pop. His boots were propped up on the railing. Those boots had steel tips. An ant would get a heart attack just looking at those boots.

  “Here.” He held out a jar. “You’re going to itch like a flea-bit dog. Better take this.”

  “Thank you,” said Cody.

  She watched Mr. Meen crush the soda can in his fist. As fast as a girl clutching a mysterious jar and a big bag of groceries can run, that’s how fast she ran home.

  “The murderer who lives next door to GG gave me this.” Cody showed Wyatt the jar. Big Ralph’s Meat Tenderizer, said the label.

  “Meat tenderizer? A murderer gave you meat tenderizer?” He read the ingredients. Mom always did that, to make sure there weren’t too many chemicals. But Wyatt adored chemicals.

  “Dextrose,” he read. “Calcium silicate. Bromelain. That’s an enzyme.”

  Wyatt explained all about enzymes. Explaining things that are very boring is how a genius is nice to you.

  “The enzyme will help break down the yellow-jacket poison,” he said. “Excelente.”

  Wyatt mixed the tenderizer with water, then spread the paste over Cody’s hand. Gentle as a bedtime kiss, that’s how his touch was.

  “You’re going to be the world’s best doctor,” Cody said.

  Wyatt laughed. His nice laugh, not the other one.

  He had a microscope slide of a bee stinger, and he let Cody examine it. Through the lens, the stinger looked mighty as a sword. That made Cody feel bad. That poor yellow jacket! He only meant to defend himself. But he wound up deader than dead.

  Wyatt got another slide and squeezed some puddle water onto it. He explained that the golden blobs were mosquito eggs. Those squiggly things were bacteria, very-very-very-you-get-the-idea-tiny creatures.

  “A puddle contains a whole, entire universe,” he told her. “And it’s all invisible to the naked eye.”

  That cracked Cody up. Like eyes ever wore clothes! Imagine an eyeball with a bow tie and a little top hat!

  Somewhere in the room, Wyatt’s cell phone began to ring. The two of them hurled around unde
rwear, books, shoes, and dirty dishes. At last, Cody poked her head under the bed and ta-da!

  “You have reached the office of Dr. Wyatt,” she said. “If this is an emergency, dial nine-one-one immediately.”

  “Cody! What are you doing with your brother’s phone?”

  Cody recognized the voice of Payton Underwood, the girl of Wyatt’s dreams. Or, in Cody’s opinion, his nightmares.

  “We are busy with other customers. Please try again later. Maybe in three years.”

  Wyatt grabbed the phone. “Payton? Sorry!” He rushed out of the room.

  Cody sat on her brother’s bed. Sometimes a person just wants to give another person a present, even if it’s not their birthday or Christmas. A present for no reason except you like them so much. But what could she give Wyatt?

  Cody had a friendly brain. When an idea knocked, her brain said, Come in, idea. Make yourself right at home. And what do you know? Knock, knock. Here came one now!

  First she found a clean slide. Then she worked up a great, gobby mouthful of spit. If you are thinking disgusting, you are right. But if you are thinking fun, you are also right. How can that be? In this life, many things can stump the mind.

  When she had so much spit she could hear it sloshing around, Cody drooled on the slide.

  “What are you doing?” hollered Wyatt.

  Oops! The slide spurted from Cody’s hand. It landed on Wyatt’s desk. Spit side down. She tried to pick it up, but spit is highly slippery stuff.

  “You drooled on my scientific equipment!” Wyatt smacked his forehead. “How can you be my sister? How can we share the same DNA?”

  “What does that spell?”

  “Never mind!”

  “I was making a new slide,” she said. “So you could examine the universe of my spit!”

  “It’s not spit. It’s saliva.” Wyatt dive-bombed his bed. “And it’s swarming with bacteria, viruses, and fungi!”

  That gave Cody a better-sit-down-on-the-bed feeling. But Wyatt ordered her off. Pronto.

  How could he be nice to her one minute and mean the next? There was only one explanation.

  “Payton Underwood broke up with you again, didn’t she?” she asked.