“She’s going to score!” yelled Pearl. “We’re going to win!”
The goalie waved her monster gloves.
Madison tilted sideways.
Uh-oh! She was going to fall.
No, she wasn’t! She was back on her feet.
Cranking her foot. Taking her shot. Ka-pow! The ball zooped over the goalie’s head and into the net.
Just as the referee blew his whistle.
“We won!” Cody and Pearl hugged. “We won!”
So why didn’t the coach look happy? Why did Madison fold her arms and stamp her cleats?
Because the game was over, and it was a tie after all. After they did high fives with the other team, Coach Yazmin called a huddle. She explained that the ref had ruled a hand ball. Madison had touched the ball, so her goal didn’t count.
“I didn’t really touch it!” cried Madison. “Just one tiny fingertip! Maybe two.”
“I know you’re disappointed, Mad,” said the coach.
Disappointed-mad. Cody knew how that felt.
“It’s not fair.” Madison’s bottom lip trembled. “That ref is mean. It was an accident.”
“At least we didn’t lose,” Pearl said in a voice of helpfulness.
“A tie is as bad as losing!” Madison grabbed her bag and ran to where her father waited. When he put his arm around her, she buried her head in his chest.
Cody hated when people cried. Even if they cried over something she would never cry over, she still hated it.
That night, Dad called from the road. While Cody waited her turn to talk, she checked the sofa cushions for interesting things. Whoa! One of Payton’s lip glosses.
“How was the game?” Dad asked.
“It was a tie.”
“In the game of life, you can do way worse than a tie.”
Cody pulled the top off the lip gloss. It smelled like one of those delicious artificial drinks Mom didn’t let them have.
“Madison says a tie is as bad as losing,” she told Dad.
“Who’s Madison?”
Cody told how, on their class field trip to the Insectarium, Madison almost fainted over the Madagascar hissing cockroaches.
“She’s a cute-animal kind of girl,” Cody said. “She likes koalas.”
“Koalas and soccer.”
“She doesn’t just like soccer. She’s . . .” Cody remembered Madison’s face as she raced down the field. “She’s fierce about it.”
“Well,” said Dad, “it’s good to be fierce about something. It’s good to really care about something, and give it all you’ve got.”
This was so confusing. What about Winning isn’t the most important thing? And It’s how you play the game that matters?
Cody sniffed the lip gloss again. It smelled delicious. It smelled so good, you could almost take a bite out of it.
Oops.
As she walked to Spencer’s house the next day, Cody wondered about all the people she saw. Was that old man sweeping his driveway fierce about something? How about that woman balancing a big white cake box in her arms? Could little kids whose bikes still had training wheels be fierce?
At Spencer’s, MewMew sat looking out the front window. She tapped the glass with her paw. This was cat for “I am thrilled to see you!” Then she yawned and curled up for a nap.
MewMew was fierce about naps.
The door on the other side of the porch opened. Out came Maxie Meen, waving blue pom-poms.
“GG’s at church. A lady in a big car came and picked up the rest of them.”
Cody remembered what Spencer said about getting ready for the baby. Did the lady take them to buy diapers? That didn’t make sense.
Maxie stood on her tiptoes. “What’s on your mouth?” she asked.
“Lip gloss.”
“Can I have some?”
Cody dabbed some on her finger and rubbed it on Maxie’s mouth. She licked her lips like a little cat.
In the backyard, Molly was hurdling over cardboard boxes. Mr. Meen had put the kibosh on dragging furniture outside. Cody helped Maxie practice cartwheels.
“Go with the flow,” she said. That was what GG said when they did tai chi together. “Experience harmony. Become one with the windmill.”
Half a century went by. Still no Spencer.
At last Cody gave up. She decided to visit the museum before she went home.
What do you know? Spencer had added a new exhibit. It was the catapult they’d built last summer. Cody smiled as she remembered how much fun they’d had smithereening eggs. That was the day she and Spencer became best friends for life.
Cody hoped you spelled catapult the way it sounded. On an index card she wrote:
She taped on the sign. It looked professional, if she did say so herself.
Maybe this wasn’t an art museum after all. But then, what kind of museum could it be?
The evil, creeping rhinovirus got hold of Pearl next.
She had a special technique of coughing into her elbow so she wouldn’t spread germs. Also, she carried a giant bottle of hand sanitizer everywhere. Including to lunch, where they were going now.
“We have to sit at the soccer table,” she told Cody.
Cody imagined a table shaped like a soccer ball. That cracked her up! Everything would slide off.
But when they got to the lunchroom, she saw what Pearl meant. All the soccer kids were sitting together. Cody waved to Spencer, who was unwrapping his sandwich at another table. He came to sit with them.
Spencer’s head swiveled back and forth as people talked about soccer camp. And soccer travel teams. And their favorite soccer pros. It was Soccer Land, all right. In Cody’s opinion, the conversation needed a little pick-me-up.
“Did anybody watch that show about beetles?” she asked. “They showed one so strong, it can snap a pencil in half.”
“Bugs totally creep me out!” said Madison. She pushed away her chicken nuggets. “Now I can’t eat.”
That was silly.
“Cody didn’t mean it.” Pearl pumped sanitizer. “It’s just that she loves . . .” She hesitated. “She loves B-U-G-S.”
“Eee-yoo!” Madison covered her eyes. “I might upchuck.”
Spencer got up and moved to the other end of the table.
“Tell her you’re sorry,” whispered Pearl, rubbing her sanitized hands together. “Tell her you didn’t mean it.”
Cody didn’t mean to make Madison upset. But she did mean that a pencil-snapping beetle was as interesting as S-O-C-C-E-R. To her, at least.
“Tell her!” Pearl suddenly spoke in a voice of command.
Whoa. Sometimes Pearl talked that way to the juice-dribbling, banana-mushing twins. But never, ever to Cody. Cody was so startled, she dropped a tater tot into her chocolate pudding.
“I’m sorry,” said Cody.
“Please don’t do it again,” said Madison.
“She won’t,” said Pearl.
“It’s called a Hercules beetle,” whispered Cody, so quietly no one heard.
“Are you going to sit with them every day?” Spencer asked on the way home.
“Pearl says it’s part of being a team.”
“I didn’t understand anything they said. They might as well have been speaking Norwegian.”
Cody laughed. The warm weather had made a comeback, and she’d put her flip-flops in her backpack. Now she slipped them on. Her escaped toes wiggled for joy.
But then she remembered something.
“Where were you yesterday?”
“Be careful.” Spencer pointed at her feet. “Flip-flops don’t offer good support.”
That is called changing the subject.
“I waited and waited for you. How many diapers does one baby need?”
“Diapers?” Spencer took off his woolly hat. He scratched his round head. “What are you talking about?”
“Fine. Don’t tell me.” Cody marched away. But not very far. Because she tripped. And landed on her bungie.
Did S
pencer say I told you so? Or did he kindly help her up?
You probably know the answer by now.
“I like the sign you made for our catapult,” he said.
“Remember that day? That was when we became best friends for life.”
Spencer smiled. But quick-quick, the smile vanished.
This was suspicious behavior. What was going on here?
“Spencer, are you ready to tell me what kind of museum it is?”
He pulled his hat back on and shook his head.
Fine. Cody would wait.
Número uno, with Spencer you didn’t really have a choice.
Número dos, with Spencer waiting was always worth it.
Mr. Daniels tapped the little gong on his desk. Gonggg! Journal Time.
Today they had to write about Something I Am Looking Forward To. Spring. The word sprang into Cody’s head. She picked up her pencil.
“Do you need help spelling tournament?” Pearl asked her.
“Huh?”
“The big soccer tournament? Coming up next week?”
“Oh.” Cody chewed her eraser. “Right.”
“You didn’t forget about it, did you?”
“I remember.” Well, now she did.
“Cody and Pearl,” called Mr. Daniels. “On task, my friends.”
They bent over their journals.
“It’s going to be wicked exciting,” Pearl whispered. “You play till you get eliminated. No ties allowed. If it’s a tie, they do sudden death.”
Cody imagined her whole team falling over, suddenly dead. She grabbed Pearl’s sanitizer and pumped a big gob.
That was when Pearl did something completely un-Pearl. She nibbled her eraser. Cody was the pencil chewer, not Pearl.
“Madison says my dribbling is still weak,” said Pearl.
“I think your dribbling is great.”
“Not.”
“Is.”
“Not.”
“Is.”
“Cody and Pearl!” Their teacher ran a hand over his cowlick. “Is there a problem?”
“No, Mr. Daniels!”
Pearl nibbled her slimy eraser. Cody began to get a strange feeling. A feeling that Pearl was changing, right before her eyes. She was falling under the spell of Madison.
“Cody, why are you looking at me like that?”
“Pearl, are you fierce about soccer?”
“Fierce?” Pearl drew back. “I don’t think so. Predators are fierce. I am a peaceful person.” She held up two fingers for the peace sign.
That made Cody feel better. Bending over her journal, she wrote
Gonggg! Lunchtime.
On the way, she and Pearl made peace signs at everyone. In the lunchroom, Cody tried to sit down, but Madison held up her hand. She pulled out a chart and consulted it.
“Today is Pearl’s day to sit on my left side, and Gopal’s day to sit on my right. You don’t get to sit next to me till, umm, Thursday.”
“Madison’s just trying to be fair,” explained Pearl. “Everyone wants to sit by her. This way we all get our turn.”
Cody moved to the end of the table. So what? Who cared? She’d sit with Spencer. Her trusty, true best friend for life. He’d be here any minute.
No, he wouldn’t.
“Where were you?” she asked him on the way home. This was a question she was asking him an awful lot lately.
“You don’t have to get upset.”
“I’m not upset!” Cody yelled.
“The Spindle said I could eat in our room. I helped her fold programs for the spring concert.”
The Spindle was Spencer’s teacher. The two had a lot in common. They both loved music and sturdy, sensible shoes.
“That sounds like the boring-est thing on earth,” Cody said, but Spencer shrugged.
“Eating at the soccer table is boring. In my experience.”
“Ha,” said Cody. Ha can mean “That’s funny.” Or “That’s crazy.” Or “Exactly!” It is a very useful word when you are not at all sure what you mean.
That night, Mom brought Wyatt another button-up shirt.
“You can’t keep wearing the same one every day,” she said.
Wyatt took one look and wrapped his hands around his neck.
“Do you have a sore throat?” Mom felt his forehead.
“He has the love disease,” said Cody.
Bidda-la-beep! went his phone, and he hurried out of the room.
Mom had brought Cody something, too. A new jacket.
“Look. It’s reversible!”
Mom demonstrated. One minute, the jacket was midnight blue. The next, it was forest green with midnight-blue cats. A two-for-one jacket!
“Look,” said Mom. “It even has a secret pocket.”
Cody tried it on. She could lift her arms up high. No more chicken dance. Deluxe, that was the only way to describe this new jacket.
But what about her old one? It had been her favorite for so long. How could she just abandon it? Was that any way to treat a trusty friend?
Cody thanked Mom, then hung the jacket up. She put on her old mended one and went outside. It was almost dark. The spring flowers had folded up into little yellow and purple fists. Somewhere, somebody’s dog gave a lonesome bark.
“I’m getting pretty worried,” she whispered to the ants. “Is everything okay down there?”
She knock-knocked on the ground. It felt like knocking on the door of an empty house.
For days, a terrible thought had been hiding in a corner of her brain. Now it poked its head out. What if the ants had moved? What if their colony got too crowded? Or what if they got bored and wanted a change of scenery?
What if they had packed up and left?
The dog gave another lonesome bark.
Quick-quick, Cody tried to stand up. Instead, she lost her balance and fell over backward.
R-r-rip!
Mother Nature had lost her mind. In the morning, fat white snowflakes filled the air. Even the snowflakes looked confused. They swirled this way and that. You could almost hear them asking, Does anybody know the plan?
That afternoon, Cody and Spencer went to his house. Whatever is the opposite of neat as a pin, that was Spencer’s house. Where would they ever fit the new baby? On top of the refrigerator, maybe?
Mrs. Pickett tried to fix their snack. But when she opened the pizza box, her face turned an unearthly color. She sprinted out of the kitchen. They had to microwave it themselves.
Spencer cut his pizza with a knife. Yes, he really did this.
“My parents say babies don’t know anything. If a baby was a computer, it wouldn’t have any downloads. I’ll have to teach it everything.”
This sounded good to Cody. She liked being in charge.
“But I don’t know everything!” said Spencer.
“You know how to play the violin. And make amazing LEGOs. And do check-plus school projects.”
Spencer did not look convinced.
“I can help you.” Cody fed MewMew some pepperoni. “And Wyatt has lots of big brother experience. He can be your coach. Coach W!”
Spencer slid his eyes to the left. Then to the right. Sneaky, that was how he looked. Before Cody could ask what exactly was going on, he jumped up.
“I have a new museum exhibit,” he said.
He went to his room and came back with an origami dinosaur.
“Remember?” he said. “Pearl made it for me last year. It’s an allosaurus.”
Of course Cody remembered. Her heart did a dip, remembering those happy days of old.
“You kept it all this time, and it’s still like new,” she said.
They looked up how to spell origami and allosaurus in the dictionary. On a card she wrote:
They set it next to the catapult. Sitting side by side on the rug, they admired the exhibits.
“I think you’re going to be a wonderful big brother,” Cody said. “Know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re r
eally, really good at taking care of things.”
Spencer smiled. They touched foreheads and did a little rub-a-dub-dub. This was how friendly ants greeted one another, and it was their special secret sign.
That night, Mother Nature came to her senses. By morning, all the snow had melted.
On the ride to soccer practice, the twins fussed and whined and blew snot rockets. They were the latest victims of the rhinovirus. Squished between them, Cody tried to cheer them up with a riddle.
“What goes up but doesn’t come down? Give up? Your age!”
The twins didn’t get it. One started crying. Uh-oh. Those two did everything together. Cody stuck her fingers in her ears. By the time they got to soccer practice, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to hear again.
Coach Y! had them do passing drills. Cody and Madison were partners.
“Here you go!” Cody passed her the ball.
Focus was Madison’s middle name. She focused so hard, she forgot to pass the ball back to Cody. Instead she ran all the way down the field and shot it into
the net.
“Goooooal!” yelled Cody. She and Madison fist-bumped.
But Coach Y! planted her hands on her hips.
“Passing means two people,” she said. “No ball hogs on this team.”
Ball hogs! Cody pictured a pen full of balls, like at Playland, only with pigs instead of kids rolling around. She tried not to laugh. Coach Y! was fierce about teamwork.
Cody and Madison tried again.
“Pass!” yelled Madison. “Over here! Not like that! Watch how I do it! Inside of your foot! Not so hard! Try again, Cody!”
Whew.
Meanwhile, Pearl practiced her dribble. She still could not get the hang of it. Miserable, that was the face of Pearl.
“You’re getting better,” Cody told her.
“Do you think so?”
“Do bears poop in the woods?”
Usually, this made Pearl giggle. But not today.
Cody and the Heart of a Champion Page 3