Cody Harmon, King of Pets Read online

  3

  “How can I earn some money?” Cody asked his mom after school as Rex padded after him into the kitchen.

  Tibbie and Libbie had just gotten up from their afternoon nap. Tibbie was crawling toward Angus’s bowl of kibble, which she had upset before school that morning. Libbie was crawling toward the cat door, which she had gotten her hand stuck in yesterday.

  “Get Tibbie!” Cody’s mother cried out as she dashed to snatch up Libbie.

  Cody was already in pursuit.

  The twins weren’t identical. They were the other kind of twin, the kind that wasn’t exactly the same. But they still looked a lot alike because they were both babies, and sisters, and born on the same day. Both had wisps of hair so blond it looked as if it wasn’t there. Both had wide, determined smiles as they crawled toward their goals. And both could scream for a long time if you set them down when they wanted to be carried, or picked them up when they wanted to crawl.

  Cody got to Tibbie just as Angus started growling at her to leave his kibble alone.

  Angus was the second-biggest problem in Cody’s life right now. First biggest: the pet show. Second biggest: a dog who ate homework—actually, who ate everything and then threw up afterward. And a dog who didn’t like to share his food and toys with crawling babies.

  “Cody,” his mom said, “Angus is your dog. He needs to stop bothering the babies, or—”

  Cody cut her off before she could finish saying that they’d have to find Angus another home. “The babies need to stop bothering him!”

  His mother frowned. Cody knew who would get to stay in their house if his mother had to choose between Angus and the babies.

  With both twins rescued and plopped into their side-by-side high chairs, Cody’s mother said, “What were you asking?”

  “How can I earn some money?” Cody replied.

  Some kids, like Tobit, got an allowance. Their parents gave them money for doing nothing at all. Cody’s parents gave him three dollars a week, but he had to clean out the cat boxes, fill food and water bowls, pick up dog poop from the yard, feed the chickens, and do whatever other farm chores his father asked him to do.

  “How much money?” she asked, putting a few cut-up blueberries on each high-chair tray.

  “Ten dollars.” Well, ten dollars times nine. But he’d start by trying to earn ten. And actually, with the three dollars of allowance he’d get next week—he hoped he was doing the math right—only seven.

  “You got twenty dollars for your birthday.”

  “I spent it.”

  She frowned.

  “On stuff for the animals,” he hastened to add.

  “Well, then, I guess it’s gone.”

  “Could you loan me the money? Just seven dollars, not ten?”

  She shook her head, as he had known she would.

  Tibbie was dropping her blueberries onto the floor. Libbie copied her. Angus gobbled up each one as it fell.

  “There’s a pet show at school,” Cody explained. Maybe she’d loan him the money if she knew what it was for. “It costs ten dollars to enter. The money goes to the Humane Society.”

  She gave a sympathetic cluck. “What a shame you spent yours already,” she said.

  Thanks a lot, Mom.

  * * *

  Cody found his dad outside, mucking out the pen for Mr. Piggins. It was always easier to talk to his dad. He told his dad everything about the pet show, including how Mrs. Molina had informed the class that afternoon that Mr. Boone had said that pet costumes were a good idea, but he, Cody, thought they were a terrible idea.

  Cody was sure Mr. Boone would bring a pet, and his pet would have the most amazing costume of all. Mr. Boone was more enthusiastic about school activities than everyone else in the school put together.

  Cody’s father chuckled. “How would you look in a costume, Piggins, my friend?” he asked the pig.

  Ridiculous, was the answer.

  “I asked Mom if she could loan me money, but she said no.”

  His dad scratched his chin. “I think I can find seven dollars’ worth of work for you between now and the day of the pet show.”

  Cody’s heart soared.

  Then, just as quickly, it dropped back into his chest with a thud.

  He’d be able to bring one pet, but which one?

  Mr. Piggins was the biggest, and no one else at school had a pig. But Mr. Piggins had already been to school once, to be kissed by Mr. Boone at the end of the all-school reading contest. It seemed only fair to give another pet a turn.

  Rex the golden retriever was the pet most likely to win a prize in a pet show, with his majestic head, silky fur, and model-dog behavior. Plus, even if it was wrong to love one pet more than the others, Cody loved Rex the best.

  Angus was least likely to win, but maybe it would be good for Angus to get a special chance to shine. Maybe that would help Angus be a better-behaved dog, and Cody’s mom wouldn’t be mad at him all the time.

  Then there were the cats. Puffball was so pretty, with her mottled coloring. And Furface was so affectionate, with her loud, deep purr.

  His eyes fell on Sir B, the small rooster strutting around in the dirt. Cody doubted anyone at school had a rooster either. Sir B was so sure of himself; his feelings would be hurt if he was left behind.

  The three chickens? They were just chickens, and they had each other for company. If he had to cross anyone off the pet show list, it would be the chickens. But the chickens didn’t think of themselves as “just chickens.” They deserved to go, too.

  Still, taking one pet was better than taking none.

  “What kind of work?” Cody asked. He’d do it cheerfully, whatever it was.

  “I want you to do every bit of your homework, every day, the first thing when you get home from school. Your mother and I will check it, to make sure you’ve given it your best. And I don’t want to hear any complaining.”

  Cody already felt like complaining. “Dad!”

  But his dad gave him another grin. “Deal?”

  Cody had no choice but to answer, “Deal.”

  * * *

  Mr. Boone popped into Mrs. Molina’s class the next day. Fortunately for Mrs. Molina, he arrived after math this time. If he had arrived before math, nobody, not even Annika and Simon, would have done a single math problem for the rest of the day.

  For Mr. Boone had brought somebody else with him this time: a dog.

  At first Cody didn’t see the dog. All he heard were gasps of amazement from the kids nearest the classroom door. When Cody stood up from his chair to see what the fuss was about, there at the end of Mr. Boone’s leash was the tiniest dog Cody had ever seen.

  The itty-bitty Chihuahua must have weighed less than the five pounds that Libbie and Tibbie had each weighed at birth, but she proudly held up her head. It was covered with a Chihuahua-sized hat, and around her neck was tied a Chihuahua-sized bow.

  Mrs. Molina sighed the way she always did when Mr. Boone came bounding into her room.

  “What’s happening here at school next week?” Mr. Boone asked the class.

  “The pet show!” the class answered together.

  “This little lady is not my own pet,” Mr. Boone said sadly. Cody could see Izzy frowning in sympathy. “But I borrowed her from my next-door neighbor. I may borrow her again for the pet show. Unless I can borrow an elephant!”

  Everyone laughed at the ridiculous thought of an elephant tromping into school.

  “The pet show is going to finish up with a grand costume parade,” Mr. Boone said.

  Cody sighed.

  “Do you like Bitsy’s bonnet?”

  Cheers came from everyone but Cody.

  “Who wants to pet her?”

  Every hand went up, including Cody’s.

  “I can’t let everyone pet her, I’m afraid. That would be too much petting for this little dog. But…”

  His eyes swept the room. Some kids were waving their hands so hard they were in danger of falling out of
their chairs.

  “Cody,” he said. “Cody Harmon.”

  Now Cody almost fell out of his chair.

  “How’s your pig doing?” Mr. Boone asked him. “I bet you have the biggest pet of anyone in this room. So come meet the smallest.”

  All eyes on him, Cody left his seat, trying not to trip on his untied shoelaces as he made his way to the front of the room. He crouched down beside Bitsy, and the tiny dog, still on her leash, jumped up into his arms. Holding her close to his chest, he could feel the rapid beating of her heart.

  “It’s okay, Bitsy,” he whispered to her. “There’re a lot of kids here, but nobody will hurt you. You’re a pretty girl.” He hoped she wouldn’t think he was complimenting her hat. “Not your hat,” he added, “you.”

  Bitsy licked his hand.

  If only dogs and cats and chickens and ferrets and hamsters and snakes and pigs could come to school every single day!

  “All right, class,” Mr. Boone said. “Bitsy and I have to be on our way. See you at the pet show! I’ll be the fellow riding an elephant!”

  Mr. Boone took Bitsy from Cody and was gone.

  * * *

  Tobit seemed in even a worse mood than yesterday as they played Boo-RIP at lunch.

  “It’s not that big a deal, you know,” he said to Cody.

  What wasn’t that big a deal?

  “Petting a dog.”

  Was Tobit jealous of him? They were both so used to being jealous of Simon that Cody could hardly believe that anybody could ever be jealous of him.

  “I didn’t say it was,” Cody said.

  Tobit hurled his next stone so hard and carelessly that it soared over the top of the fence to plunk down on the lawn on the other side.

  “Do you want to play something else?” Cody asked.

  “It’s boring just hitting stupid letters on a stupid fence,” Tobit said.

  “We could stand farther away, to make it harder,” Cody suggested, even though he knew that wasn’t what Tobit was mad about.

  “Or we could find a moving target,” Tobit said, picking up another stone.

  Before Cody had time to react, Tobit whirled around and threw it at one of the squirrels climbing up the tree.

  It was Stubby.

  Cody’s heart clenched inside his chest. How could anyone throw a stone at a squirrel? Especially a squirrel with a broken tail?

  Luckily Stubby scrabbled out of sight, hiding himself in the leaves starting to unfurl themselves on the branches.

  “Don’t!” Cody shouted as Tobit picked up another stone.

  Tobit flushed a deep red. “I didn’t even hit him!”

  “But what if you had?”

  “But I totally missed! Why are you making a big deal about everything?”

  Luckily the bell rang before Cody could reply. And what would he have said? That he practically thought of Stubby as pet number ten? Tobit was already mad about anything to do with pets. Cody didn’t want to make him any madder. So he dropped the last stone in his hand and headed back inside without saying anything more.

  4

  During silent reading time—which was anything but silent that day—Mrs. Molina called Cody’s name. “Cody, I need to talk to you.”

  Tobit, standing next to Cody in the reading nook, both of them trying to take so long to pick out a book that reading time would be over before they found one, raised an eyebrow. Cody was glad Tobit was acting normal again after their near-quarrel during Boo-RIP.

  But Cody had no idea what he had done wrong now. Try as he might, he couldn’t think of a single thing.

  When he made himself approach Mrs. Molina’s desk, she was holding a stapled bunch of papers. Actually two pieces of paper, stapled to a messily written cover page.

  His animal report.

  Cody stood there, waiting to hear what Mrs. Molina was going to say.

  “There is poor work,” she began. “There is disappointing work. But then there is unacceptable work. Do you know what unacceptable means?”

  Cody nodded.

  “What does it mean?” she prompted.

  Cody hated when grownups asked questions when they already had a specific answer in mind they wanted to hear, and you had to guess what you were supposed to say.

  “I got an F on my animal report?” he asked.

  He had gotten F’s before, on spelling tests and math quizzes. His mom would yell, and his dad would be so nice about it Cody would feel even worse. But F’s weren’t the end of the world.

  “No,” Mrs. Molina said.

  He had passed? Or maybe there was some grade even lower than F. F minus. Or G, a grade saved for a six-sentence report with zero sources.

  Mrs. Molina went on. “Unacceptable means I cannot accept this.”

  She handed the report to Cody. He had no choice but to take it. Stapled to the back was an envelope addressed to his parents.

  “Cody,” Mrs. Molina said, “I’m giving you till a week from this Friday to do the report over again. This time the report will be three pages long. This time the report will have facts from two sources. This time you will print neatly and legibly. I’m giving you a second chance.”

  She smiled at him as if she had delivered good news instead of the worst news Cody had heard since he learned the pet show cost ten dollars per pet and costumes were expected.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Cody’s parents liked it when he said sir and ma’am. Besides, this seemed like a good time to be extra polite.

  “I want you to bring the letter back tomorrow, signed by your parents.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “All right. Go put your report in your backpack. I don’t want you to lose it.”

  If only Cody could!

  As Cody trudged to the coat cubbies, Tobit shot him an inquiring look.

  “She’s making me do my animal report over again!” Cody tried to keep his voice to a whisper.

  “Wow,” Tobit said, with genuine sympathy. “That’s terrible.” He made mad squinty eyes at Mrs. Molina, which fortunately she didn’t see.

  Cody was glad to have Tobit take his side, now that he was going to have to spend every day for the next week and a half writing three whole pages about pigs.

  * * *

  At home that afternoon Tibbie and Libbie crawled up to him as if they didn’t know he had a horrible note to give his parents. Rex nuzzled the knees of Cody’s pants. Angus nipped at his socks. The cats held back until the dogs had finished their greeting and then wrapped themselves around his legs.

  “How was school?” his mother asked.

  I got to hold a Chihuahua.

  Tobit threw a stone at Stubby.

  I have to do my animal report over again.

  “It was okay,” Cody said.

  “Do you have any homework?”

  “A little bit. Just some math and spelling.”

  And an entire animal report. He didn’t want to tell her yet. He’d tell his dad first, and his dad could help him tell his mom.

  “Well, fix yourself a snack and get started,” she said, snatching up Libbie as she was reaching to pull Angus’s tail, and Tibbie as Angus was once again growling at her.

  Just then Cody’s dad came in, his face reddened by the spring sunshine, his thinning hair tousled by the spring breeze. His eyes crinkled into a smile when he saw Cody.

  Cody might as well tell him now. He unzipped his backpack and produced his report with the attached note.

  “Um … Mrs. Molina … well … she said … I have to…”

  He handed the report to his dad. His mom, still clutching the babies, leaned over to look, too. Cody tried not to watch as his dad tore open the envelope and read whatever Mrs. Molina had written. He dropped down to the floor and busied himself stroking Rex’s silky fur and trying to ignore Angus, who was back tugging at Cody’s socks. If Angus were in Mrs. Molina’s class, he’d get a note sent home every single day.

  “Cody,” his mom said, “I told you—”
r />   His father cut her off. “Son,” he said. “We made a deal. You know what you need to do.”

  Cody did. Seven dollars to enter one pet in the pet show if he did his homework without complaining. This was homework. Huge, horrible, hideous homework.

  “Yes, sir,” Cody told him.

  “Let’s make a plan,” his dad said then. “Do you need to go to the library to get some books on pigs?”

  Cody shook his head. “I brought home the two books I had in my desk at school.”

  “Great!” his dad said. “Just read one today and one tomorrow. I’ll give you some index cards so that you can take notes, and more paper for writing your first draft.”

  Great?

  Cody picked up his backpack and plodded up to his small room at the top of the stairs, where he had to spend the rest of a beautiful sunny afternoon reading.

  * * *

  There was a lot, it turned out, Cody hadn’t known about pigs.

  Pigs have forty-four teeth. Pigs have small lungs. Pigs roll around in the mud to keep cool. Pigs can run up to eleven miles in an hour.

  It took Cody a long time to read the first pig book, even though it was a picture book for little kids. But the facts, he had to admit, were pretty cool. He wrote the best ones down on the index cards his dad had given him, the way Mrs. Molina had told the class to do.

  That was all he needed to do on the report today. Oh, and he had spelling and math, too. He looked out his bedroom window to where Rex was dozing in the afternoon sun and Angus was chasing one of the chickens, who fluttered to a safe perch atop a low stone wall.

  “Angus, stop it!” Cody called out the window, not that Angus had ever listened to any human being about anything.

  Angus looked up at him and wagged his tail, as if to say, I wouldn’t be chasing chickens if you came down to play with me.

  Why did Cody have to do spelling and math homework? Why was there such a thing as homework? Didn’t teachers know a kid with nine pets didn’t have time for homework?

  But a deal was a deal.

  Once Cody finally finished the rest of his homework and his mother had checked every single bit of it, he headed outside at last, a tennis ball in each hand. For the next half hour he threw balls for the dogs, loving the sight of Rex dashing to find the ball however far he had thrown it. Angus dashed after every ball eagerly but only brought back half of them. He’d get distracted by a rabbit he needed to chase, or he’d forget which direction the ball had soared.