In Todd We Trust

by Louise Galveston

  Everybody wanted more from me than I could give. Charity, Coach Tomlin, Lucy … the only one who didn’t want anything from me was Duddy. Man, I missed our carefree days of goofing off and playing Dragon Sensei. Why was everything changing, when all I wanted was for it all to go back to the way it used to be?

  To make matters worse, I couldn’t even talk to Duddy about any of this mess because I hardly saw the dude anymore, now that I was on swim team and he was all gaga for Lucy.

  Suddenly, an idea occurred to me. The swim team.

  I might not be able to do anything about Duddy and Lucy, but the swim team was a different story. I’d march into Tomlin’s office and quit tomorrow, like I should have done today.

  I needed to slam the book shut on this weird chapter of my life. Maybe if I hung with Duddy more I could get him to start acting like his old, non-Lucified self.

  I walked to my room and slumped down on my bed feeling satisfied with my decision—quitting the team was definitely the right thing to do. But I just couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something I was forgetting …

  CHAPTER 17

  HERMAN

  Will Great Todd ever come back for us?” little Millicent asked into the darkness, her voice echoing against the shoebox walls.

  “Of course he will, Milly,” Lewis said, with more assurance than even he must have felt.

  “What if he doesn’t?” wondered Gerald the Elder. “What if we never see the light of day again?”

  At that, the young Toddlians wailed with fear.

  “Now hush,” Persephone said gently. “Ya think I’m gonna let anythin’ harm yer tiny carcasses?” She leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Herman, what’s the plan?”

  Lewis heard her. “I think we should stay right here and wait on Todd to come for us. Here at least there is safety.”

  “And starvation!” Persephone countered.

  “We may have temporarily slipped the Great One’s mind,” Lewis admitted. “But he will not forget us for long, I know it.”

  “Well, I don’t!” I said passionately. “Lewis, I am sorry, but it has become quite obvious to the rest of us that we have been forsaken—”

  Lewis gasped. “Please! Temporarily forgotten, maybe, but forsaken? Never!”

  I stood my ground. “There can be no question about it, my friend. The time has come to take our fates into our own hands. We must load up our supplies and the creeping beasts and flying creatures.”

  Clarence, a new paternal person, spoke up. “Surely you are too wise, Herman, to expect me to entrust the lives of my tiny twins to a vessel that is not seaworthy.”

  I calmed his fears. “That is why I have completely remodeled The Exodus, replacing the weaker materials with sturdy corrugated cardboard from boxes in the garage. I have made extensive repairs to the hull after many middle-of-the-night visits to howtobuildaboat.com. I now know my mistake was the use of matchsticks, which were hard to keep watertight. Cardboard is all one piece, and is, after all, made of ‘board,’ hence the name.”

  Lewis objected once again. “I have seen The Adorable One shred a material called ‘cardboard’ with her bare hands. Perhaps we are being hasty. Perhaps we ought to look for a sturdier materi—”

  “It ain’t no secret thet The Adorable One has the strength of a cyclone,” Persephone interrupted. “Why, I’ve seen her bend a spoon into a knot with nothin’ but those four teeth of hers!” She continued in a gentler tone: “Lew, you cain’t deny thet yer talk with Todd was a complete bust. We’re jest plumb outta options. It’s sail or starve!”

  Several others murmured in agreement. I heard Lewis sniffle, and my heart felt heavy. Perhaps I had been too stern. But I had been right.

  Persephone echoed my thoughts to our friend. “Chin up, Lew! I know this is partic’lar rough on you, bein’ so tenderhearted and loyal as a coon dog. But I feel mighty sure that things will look brighter soon.”

  Suddenly, light flooded the dark box as the lid was lifted away. We all looked up in expectation: Had Todd come for us?

  “Well, this figures,” said a high voice in our native tongue. The Adorable One peered down upon us, shaking her blond curls and muttering about the “absolute incompetence” of her elder brother.

  Lewis was ecstatic at her appearance. His tears of sorrow transformed to tears of relief. He whispered to me, “I know we have agreed that Daisy is too unstable to be our god, but might we not consult her about the best way to proceed?”

  Persephone nodded. “She does know a sight more about bein’ human than any of us. Couldn’t hurt none, and we’ll need somebody to help us get the ark outta the house.”

  I had not considered that. “Perhaps you are right.” Cupping my hands around my mouth, I yelled, “Your Adorableness, may we have a word with you?”

  “Humph!” was her eloquent reply. She carried us out of the closet and set us among the building materials and effigies of infants that were strewn on her floor. Lewis had told us horrific tales of the belching effigy named Becky, and we huddled close together in the corner of the box for safety.

  “O Adorable One,” Lewis began, bowing. “We ask for your help today in understanding the reasoning of the human mind, which is sadly far beyond our comprehension.”

  Daisy stuck her pacification device in her mouth and sucked thoughtfully upon it. She nodded, and Lewis continued. “Many of my fellow Toddlians have lost faith in your brother’s leadership. In fact, even I cannot help feeling he is angry with us for some reason.”

  Daisy spit her out pacification device long enough to ask, “Why?” then replaced it. “Nom nom nom nom.”

  Lewis looked down, and I placed a hand of encouragement on his shoulder. His voice was choked with emotion as he explained our plight. “It began with his forgetting to leave us sweaty gym clothes—our main source of nourishment.”

  The Adorable One wrinkled her upturned nose and nodded for Lewis to carry on.

  “Then Lake Parkay—our only source for water—dried up, and we nearly perished from thirst.”

  She scowled.

  “A rotten apple, which we thought contained a message of his displeasure, was left near our peaceful hamlet, until it spawned hideous slimy creatures and enormous flying monsters who destroyed our buildings and homes, causing much distress. But all of this Lewis could have endured, had it not been for feeling that Todd no longer cared for us—no longer wanted to be friends.”

  Daisy spat out her pacification device and crossed her pudgy arms. “I am sorry to hear of your sufferings,” she said kindly. “But I can’t say I’m surprised. Surely you didn’t think that lackadaisical lazybones was actually going to take care of you? Have you never heard the sad history of that unlucky crustacean, Leonardo da Pinchy?”

  We told her we hadn’t.

  “Never mind, then. It puts me in a state of melancholy, and I’m currently completing my latest masterpiece, Send in the Clowns, a mixed-media piece that requires every bit of sanguine sentiment I can muster.” Daisy toddled to her workstation and returned with a painting of colorful, cavorting clowns whose faces were surprisingly realistic and familiar. “I cut these faces from our last family portrait. I’m sure Mommy won’t mind. Hee hee hee hee hee!”

  She gave us a closer view as she laughed, and I saw she’d even made a little clown canine, using a photo of Princess VanderPuff’s head.

  We applauded politely, and Her Adorableness returned to the matter of our distress. “As I was saying, Todd is and ever will be a useless bumbler. The only remotely practical skill he has is break-dancing. And even there he is unfaithful. He never finished teaching me the Worm!”

  “We want the Worm! We want the Worm!” chanted some of our youth, but I quieted them with a hiss: “Remember what happened the last time you asked for the Worm!”

  When they were silent, Daisy concluded. “Basically, ANYONE would make a better god than my brother. Except me, of course. Although I am highly qualified, I am far too overcommitted. Why, be
tween my artistic endeavors, playdates, meeting my never-ending nutritional needs, rearranging furniture, and keeping the parents on their toes, I scarcely have time to take a nap!”

  Lewis sighed, and his shoulders slumped. He turned back to us with a downcast face, obviously disappointed that Daisy agreed with those of us who felt Todd had failed as a god. But it had been his idea to consult her in the first place, so he held his peace.

  “Well, no sense sittin’ around here mopin’ like a bunch of lovesick longhorns. I say it’s high time we put this matter to a vote. Herman?”

  I nodded.

  “All righty then, all in favor of ditchin’ Todd and hoppin’ aboard the newly spruced-up ark to find us a different god, say ‘aye.’”

  “AAAAYE!” shouted most of the Toddlians. Lewis hung his head and choked out a “nay.”

  Clearly, the “ayes” carried the vote, and as much as it hurt me to see my friend Lewis pained, I had to think of the greater good, which was to find a greater god.

  While we voted, The Adorable One had been studying a cylindrical device she had pulled from her box of toys. The inside contained a blue liquid, and the outside was marked with lines and numbers.

  She interrupted our departure plans. “Please, my little friends, let me assist you in your voyage!” The crazed look she had worn when she had “helped” us test sail The Exodus was upon her face once more. “According to My First Barometer here, it’s supposed to rain tomorrow. Which means the rushing river that runs beside our front yard should be flowing along splendidly. Pleeeaaase?”

  With that entreaty, Daisy peered into the shoebox with enormous brown eyes that didn’t look altogether sane. I was reminded of a Shakespeare quote: “O, mischief, thou art swift to enter in the thoughts of desperate men.”

  The Adorable One was explaining her plans to sneak us out of the house tomorrow when the maternal person was occupied with a piano lesson. She would then deposit us in the River Drain by the curb, and we could sail away to make a new beginning.

  It was getting late, and Daisy hospitably offered to let us spend the evening on her Blankie. We all felt what an honor she had conferred upon us and accepted happily. Of course, she also had to sleep with the Blankie, so we nestled down on its luxurious filth inside the bars of her white cage.

  Daisy-related dirt was the next best thing to Todd dirt, and we gorged ourselves on sweet, sticky grunge until our entrails nearly exploded. We were too full to talk much, and I settled into the comfort of the Blankie’s worn, unwashed fibers full of hope and anticipation for the next day’s journey.

  I awakened from my dozing to hear someone whimpering nearby. Lewis? I rose to comfort him, but Persephone intercepted me. “Best leave him by his lonesome and let him have his cry out. He’ll come ’round to the idea in his own time.”

  She was right, of course, but my bed was not nearly so soft when I settled back into it.

  CHAPTER 18

  The next morning was Friday, the day of the dance. Before homeroom, I paced back and forth outside Coach Tomlin’s office, practicing my quitting speech before I went in. I really wished I’d taken two minutes and scarfed down some cereal or something before I’d left home. My stomach was churning, and I felt shaky.

  How should I say it? Should I just flat out beg for mercy? I called up my newly acquired acting skills—wringing my hands and putting on a pitiful face with puppy-dog eyes. Hey, sometimes it worked on Mom … “Pleeeease, Coach Tomlin, sir, let me off the team,” I whispered. “As you saw yesterday, I’m an unworthy athlete, and I will only bring shame and humiliation to the WAVES.” Here I hung my head and slumped my shoulders. “Some of us just aren’t born to swim.”

  Naw, that would never work. He’d probably tell me to quit being a wuss, do thirty crunches, and drink another protein shake. But it’s not like I could tell him the truth: that I wanted more time to spend with my civilization of little bug-like people who worshipped me as a god, and to discuss boogers and Dragon Sensei with my best friend.

  Gulp. At the thought of the Toddlians, my stomach clenched so hard I was actually kinda lucky that I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I left them in Daisy’s closet! I groaned—Daisy had sure as heck woken up from her nap by now, and there was a good chance she’d find the strange shoebox in her closet. She seemed as weirdly organized as I was messy. Clearly we’d inherited different genes.

  And what would Daisy do with the Toddlians? Oh, man, I didn’t even want to think about it. If the way she treats my Dragon Sensei figurines is any sign …

  I had to get home ASAP. Which meant I really needed off the WAVES—and fast. Maybe I could come up with a sob story. I mean, my life wasn’t perfect. Surely there were some good, heartstrings-pulling reasons I shouldn’t be on the team.

  “Coach Tomlin, I’d love to stay on the swim team, but my schedule is too full. Middle school is hard, and I need to spend more time on my studies. If my grades slip, you’d only have to kick me off the team anyway. Besides, my dad is working overtime at the hospital, and my mom is so stressed since she was laid off from teaching that she may end up in the hospital with a nervous breakdown, and she really needs me to help babysit my little sister …” No, that was slipping into pitiful mode again, and Coach Tomlin didn’t seem to be especially inclined toward sympathy.

  The best approach was probably to be tough, like the coach himself. That seemed to be the language he understood. I scowled and frowned, quietly yelling, “You can keep your dumb chuck-ups and piggyback stair runs! You can keep your rotten hosedowns!” I pointed at the door and whisper-screamed, “YOU CAN KEEP YOUR STUPID SWIM TEAM, TOMLIN! I QUIT!”

  “You wanna say that to my face, Buttrock?”

  I must’ve jumped a foot in the air. How I didn’t pee myself, I’ll never know. I whirled around to face The Ogre, who apparently was not in his office like I’d thought. For a moment, I wished I were teeny-tiny, like a Toddlian. It would make hiding in a situation like this a heckuva lot easier.

  Coach Tomlin’s steely eyes bored into mine as his face turned to granite. “You wanna quit my team, boy? Is that what you said?”

  I backpedaled into the door, stammering, “I … well, that is … I …”

  “Inside,” he ordered, pushing me out of the way and unlocking the door. I followed him into his lit office. Except for some motivational posters on the walls, the room was almost bare. There was, however, a metal chair across from his desk. I started to sit in it when Coach bellowed, “Who said you could sit down? Stand up and answer me like a man!”

  I stood rigidly and focused my eyes on a poster behind his desk. It was of a grimacing bodybuilder struggling to lift a ginormous barbell. The caption said PAIN IS YOUR FRIEND.

  Coach Tomlin walked around behind his desk and crossed his arms. “Now tell me again how you’re gonna quit my team.” His low, controlled voice was scarier than any of his shouting.

  There was no other option; I had to give him my speech. And like the lily-liver I was, I went the sappy route. “Pleeeeease, Coach. I need off the team. I’m needed at home. My dad has to work nights, and my mom is a stress muffin trying to make ends meet and deal with my diabolical baby sister.” I glanced up at him then, which was a mistake, and went on, “And you said yourself, sir, that I’m not a good swimmer—”

  “I never said that! Look at me, boy.” I met his stony gaze. “I never said you weren’t a good swimmer. I said you weren’t living up to your potential. And it’s my job to get you to do so. You hear me?”

  I nodded.

  Coach Tomlin came around to the front of the desk and leaned his butt on it. “If you quit now, you’ll never know how good of a swimmer you could have become. It’s my duty to keep you on this team and help you realize your inner strength, Buttrock. Thank me.”

  I knew it was a bad idea, but I had to keep arguing. “I just—”

  “BUTTROCK!”

  The nickname was like a clap of thunder shaking the whole office and literally bringing me to my knees. “Yes, si
r?” I whispered.

  Coach Tomlin leaned down and got in my face, not even seeming surprised that he’d just knocked me off my feet using only his voice. “Do you know what responsibility is?”

  I gulped. Apparently not? “Ah, I think so, sir.”

  He leaned in closer, so I could smell his breath. He wasn’t a coffee drinker, it seemed. He kind of smelled like Gatorade. “You have a gift, Buttrock. A real, God-given gift for swimming. Don’t you think—since you’re lucky enough to have this talent—that it’s your responsibility to develop it? What if you’re on a sinking cruise ship and you’re the only hope of getting people safely to the lifeboats? What if your best friend—that milquetoast I’ve seen you with in the hallways, the one with his finger in his nose—what if he were to fall into a swift-moving current and drown, Buttrock? You’d want to save him, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you?”

  I flashed back to the WAVES tryouts. I had saved Duddy then, but that was just in four feet of still water—not a swift-moving current. Maybe Coach Tomlin had a point.

  I’d done a pitiful job of living up to my responsibilities to the Toddlians lately. But maybe it wasn’t only the Toddlians who needed me.

  Maybe I had a responsibility to myself, too. “Okay, sir,” I whispered.

  “What’s that?” Coach Tomlin barked.

  “OKAY, SIR!” I yelled, straightening up. Then I remembered. “THANK YOU, SIR!”

  For the first time ever, I saw a hint of a smile on the man’s face. “Good. I’ll make a man of you yet. Show up at the meet this afternoon ready to swim your guts out, or you’ll see why they call me Terrifying Coach Tomlin.”

  • • •

  Dark storm clouds were gathering as the final bell rang, matching my mood. I’d decided to stay on the swim team, but as the day wore on, I was getting more and more worried about the Toddlians. Even if Daisy hadn’t gotten to them, they had to be freaked out, stuck in that dark shoebox for this long with no food or water … It made me feel terrible. After Coach Tomlin’s speech that morning, I believed I did have a responsibility to the team. But honoring that responsibility meant letting down the Toddlians, again. My life was getting way too complicated, and all I wanted was to make it simple again.