In Todd We Trust Page 4

  Now, where to hide them? The bottom drawer of my dresser was partway open. I pulled it out, scooted aside some socks and underwear, and shut the Toddlians inside at the same second someone pounded on the door.

  “Who is it?” I asked innocently. “I’m trying to take a nap in here, if you don’t mind.”

  I heard Mom sigh. “Don’t be ridiculous, Todd. Open the door; you have company.”

  I shoved the micro-glasses into my desk drawer and cracked the door a bit. Max pushed it the rest of the way open. He was grinning so hard I expected his face to split in half. There was a bunch of black Oreo shrapnel between his teeth. Mom gave all students cookies after their lesson, no matter how bad they’d sounded.

  “Hey, Todd,” Max said casually, walking in and plopping onto the end of my bed. “Wanna play?”

  My guts twisted. “Actually, Max, I’m not feeling too good. My stomach hurts, so I think I’m just gonna snag some Zs, if you don’t mind.”

  Mom came from behind Max and felt my forehead with the back of her hand. “Hmmm. No fever, so you’re probably not contagious. You want me to bring you some Pepto-Bismol?”

  “Yuck! I mean, um, no thanks, I’d probably just puke it up.”

  “Well, you can take it easy on your bed, and Max here can keep you company. Is that okay, Max?”

  “Sure, Mrs. B,” he schmoozed. “Thanks again for the lesson.”

  Mom smiled. “You’re welcome. Good first effort, Max. You’ve got … very strong fingers.” She left us alone, shutting the door behind her.

  Max cracked his fingers one at a time as he backed me against the dresser. “Let’s not make this more painful than it needs to be … for you, anyway.” He swirled his head around like a hawk hunting prey. “Where are they?”

  “Who?” I squeaked, pressing my foot firmly against the bottom drawer.

  Max crossed his arms and glowered. “Don’t play games with me, Buttrock. Hand ’em over nice and easy.” He held his palm out.

  I stalled. “The Toddlians aren’t here.”

  His nostrils flared, which meant I was seconds from annihilation. “Oh, they’re here.”

  “No, seriously, I released them into the wild, so they could be with nature and other bug-type creatures. We drove them out into the woods last night and let them go.” I was in this deep, so I decided to pour on the drama. I let out a deep, shuddery breath. “Almost broke my heart, I tell ya. But it’s what they wanted.”

  Max cocked his head and studied me from under his unibrow. He wasn’t buying it. “If they’re gone, what’s all that?” He jerked his head toward Toddlandia.

  Ugh. Why hadn’t I shut the door? Without another word, Max marched over to the closet and went full Godzilla: wrecking the playground, dumping the watering hole, slapping the sock (which the Toddlians didn’t use much anymore, not that he’d know that) against the carpet …

  “I told you, they aren’t here,” I said, holding my position against the dresser.

  Max ignored me and crossed to my desk. He tossed baseball cards into the air, then used his arm like a bulldozer to sweep everything else off, sending my rubber-band ball, my mug full of pens, and my newest Dragon Sensei DVD toppling to the ground.

  “You know,” he seethed, rifling through the markers in my desk drawer, “I’ve thought long and hard about selling your little buggy-wuggies to science or some reality TV producer.” He reached up onto the shelf that held all my Dragon Sensei drawings, flinging them to the floor. “But then I thought to myself, ‘Max, why waste your time? Those little insects are bad luck. It’d probably just blow up in your face, like at the fair.’” In his hand was my best Saki drawing, the one where it looked like she was hurling a screaming Boom Shroom right off the page. I’d been seriously thinking about giving the picture to Charity when we role-played together—I mean, if she liked it.

  Max shook the drawing at me. “But then I thought, wouldn’t it be even sweeter to avenge myself on their teeny-weeny bodies—after they help me get an A on my science project, of course? Really pay them back for the pain they put me through?” My stomach flipped as he ripped the picture slowly in half from top to bottom. “Nobody makes a fool out of Max Loving.”

  I had to get him out of the room somehow.

  My bed was his next assault. He shook the covers and then stuck his head under the bed. “Come here, buggy-wuggies,” he cooed. “It’s cold under here. Uncle Maxie wants to warm you up with a nice hot bonfire.” He stood and said, all nonchalant, “I bought a blowtorch last week with my birthday money. Did you know that?” I thought I’d hurl for real then, which, if I made enough noise, might at least get Mom back in the room.

  But before I could toss my tots, Max shoved me out of the way and attacked the dresser, yanking open the top drawer and rummaging through my Tshirts.

  “Max! Can’t we talk about this?” I pleaded as he bent down to grab the bottom drawer handle. “Let me get you some more Oreos and—”

  Mom popped her head in then, looking confused. “What’s that? Max, are you looking for cookies? I’ll have to send some home with you.” She scoped out my floor. Her eyes rolled back, and I expected her head to spin. “Todd—” She glanced at Max. “We’ll discuss your room in a minute. Max, your brother’s here to take you home.”

  Max stood, frowning. The second Mom trotted off to collect the cookies, he lunged for me. “I could wring your neck like a chicken,” he snarled, proving it by putting me in a death grip.

  “You’re killing me,” I wheezed.

  “Naw. You’re not worth it.” His claws opened, and I collapsed, gasping for air. “But I swear I will find those critters. If not today, tomorrow. And once I’ve showed ’em to Mr. Katcher and gotten my A … I’m gonna turn up the heat!”

  The car horn blared a couple of times, cutting off Max’s evil cackle. “All right!” Max breathed through clenched teeth. “I’m coming!” He stomped to the door, then turned and pointed at me. “I’ll be back, Buttrock. And I’m going to barbecue your little buggies over an open flame! That’s a promise.”

  As soon as I heard the car squeal away, I shut the door to my room and pulled the Toddlians out of their hiding spot. I set the shoebox on the dresser. They were, of course, freaking out, screaming, “GREAT TODD, SAVE US!” and a bunch of other stuff I couldn’t understand.

  “I’m working on it, okay!” I rasped. I wondered if Max had bruised my windpipe. It sure felt like it. But I didn’t have time to worry about that now. I needed a safe place to keep the Toddlians. Somewhere Max couldn’t just barge into.

  Lucy’s house! Lucy had always wanted to share them with me anyway. I leaned my face down next to the box. That hushed them. “OK, guys, you have to go on a little retreat to Lucy’s. Like, right now.”

  Lewis spoke up. “Oh, Great Todd live forever—”

  “Make it quick!” I said. “We have to hurry!”

  “Sorry,” he said meekly. “What is a ‘retreat’?”

  “It’s kinda like a vacation where you go and kick back. You don’t do anything but … think and stuff.” I grabbed the lid and started to cover them.

  But Lewis wasn’t finished. “Great Todd!” he squeaked in a higher voice than usual. “Forgive me, but do you mean to say that a retreat is a place to reflect … erm, that is, to consider the things that one might have done wrong?”

  “Exactly. No more questions—gotta go!”

  Lewis whimpered, and I threw on the micro-glasses and stuck my head into the box for an up-close look at the little dude. He looked kinda pasty. Weird. But I didn’t have time to worry about that right now.

  I took off the glasses, put the shoebox under my arm, and peeked in at Mom, who was busy with another student. I scribbled a note for her on the message board in the kitchen, then sneaked out the front door and hustled across the street to Lucy’s house.

  “Why, Todd!” sang Mrs. Pedoto as she opened the door. She had a wooden spoon in her hand and a big brown ceramic mixing bowl on her hip. “It’s s
o good to see you!” she said, waving the spoon around as she talked. “Now you just come inside and tell me all about your day while I whip up this vegan and sugar-free baklava. You’ll have to taste it!”

  I had no idea what baklava was, but I’d tried her cardboard-flavored sugar-free concoctions before and had definitely learned my lesson. “Umm, I’d love to,” I lied, “but I really need to ask Lucy’s advice about my science homework.”

  Mrs. Pedoto’s voice trailed after me as I hurried down the hall. “You do that. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you!”

  I knocked on Lucy’s bedroom door and said, “Lucy?”

  Lucy threw the door open. Her dark eyes sparkled as she said, “Todd! I’m so glad you’re here! You’re just in time. My male seahorse is about to give birth. See?”

  I followed her to the tank on her dresser. “Uh, did you say the male was giving birth?”

  “Mm-hmm, see?” She started twisting the end of one black braid nervously. “His respirations are speeding up, and his color is changing from gray to a yellowish-tan … Breathe, Neptune! Don’t lose focus,” she crooned. “Here they come!”

  Countless minuscule seahorses shot out of the hole in Neptune’s belly as he jerked his tail upward. I felt myself gag, but at the same time, I couldn’t look away. The seahorse gave one more convulsion and dropped, exhausted, to the bottom of the tank.

  Lucy congratulated the new family with some frozen shrimp and then turned to me. “Well, next to discovering the Toddlians, that’s the coolest thing I’ve ever witnessed.” She cocked her head and stared at me. “Are you sick, Todd? Your voice is kind of hoarse.” Lucy glanced back at the tank. “Oh, speaking of horses, here comes another one! You’ll have to help me name them all.”

  “Yeah, sure.” I held out the box of Toddlians to her. “Errrm … I brought you something. I kind of need a favor.”

  Lucy gave me a strange smile and blinked a couple of times. She pulled the lid off the box, and some of the Toddlians cheered. “Oh, hello!” she said. “I’ve missed you guys!”

  “We’ve sure as shootin’ missed you!” a voice hollered back from the box. Persephone.

  “Miss Lucy!” Herman’s voice piped up, just as delighted as Persephone. “In the words of Shakespeare: ‘All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee to me.’ ”

  I rolled my eyes. But Lucy smiled down and thanked them before glancing up at me with concern. “Wait, Todd, is everything okay? What kind of favor do you need?”

  I didn’t want to worry Lucy, so I kept things vague. “I just need you to watch them for a while until I get some things worked out.”

  She tilted her head and looked at me curiously. “Right … Well, of course, Todd. That’s what friends are for.”

  Friends. A couple of weeks ago I never would have considered Lucy a friend, but now I was glad I did.

  Mrs. Pedoto knocked twice on the door and then pushed it open. Lucy hid the shoebox behind her back. “Todd, your mom called and said it’s time to come home for dinner. But I told her you’d be welcome to eat with us …”

  “Oh, I wish I could,” I fibbed. Mrs. Pedoto’s cardboard-tasting baked goods were mouthwatering treats compared to her meals. “But …” I threw in a sniffle to pluck the heartstrings. “It’s just my Dad’s been pulling double shifts this week, and I’ve hardly gotten to see him.”

  Mrs. Pedoto nodded, her red ponytail bouncing. “I totally understand. Family time is precious.” She blew a kiss to Lucy, who blushed. “Are you getting a cold, Todd? I picked up some lemon chamomile herb drops this afternoon at the Health Hub. Let me send some home with you.” With that she trotted off.

  When I turned around, Lucy was slowly lifting the slipper out of the shoebox and placing it on the bed. I took a deep breath. Weird as it made me feel to leave the Toddlians with someone else, I knew Lucy would take good care of them. I needed some time to figure out how to handle Max … And, I realized, if the Toddlians aren’t in my room, maybe I can have Charity over to role-play!

  “Thanks for trusting me with the Toddlians,” Lucy said.

  “Of course. You’ve helped save them more than once, remember?”

  Before I could say anything else, some of the Toddlians started chanting, “LU-CY, LU-CY, LU-CY!”

  Their chanting gave me a weird feeling in my chest. “Well … I guess you guys will be okay, then, uh, without me,” I said to Lucy, forcing a quick smile. “Um … I should go.”

  “Todd—” Lucy began, but I was already at her bedroom door. I pretended not to hear her as I rushed down the hallway, out her front door, and into the cool, clear night.

  CHAPTER 6

  HERMAN

  Lucy set our sleeping quarters onto her carpet and said, “I have to appease my parents by making a dinner appearance, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  The moment she shut the door, I called a conference. We had much to discuss. Earlier that day, when Persephone had told us about Todd’s lacking response to Lewis’s concerns, many of my people were alarmed.

  “What shall we do, Mayor Herman?” Gerald the Elder had asked as the others chattered amongst themselves. “Without Todd, we have no food source, no guidance …”

  In response, I’d limped to the border of Toddlandia and pointed toward the shriveled Thing. “I suggest we send a party of our bravest Toddlians to examine the Red Thing for a message. This morning, we were distracted by the … worm. But perhaps, in our haste to escape, we missed the greater meaning.”

  There was a murmur of agreement. Persephone volunteered to lead the posse as long as we went by cricketback.

  But our fact-finding mission was, once again, doomed. When we’d reached what was left of the Red Thing, Persephone clambered up to the hole, the pistol that she’d fashioned out of a paper clip drawn and ready. But soon she’d shouted down, “It’s skedaddled! No sign of it!”

  First the Toddlian posse cheered. “Maybe this is a sign that Todd has forgiven us!” Lewis called out. Persephone began working her way down the wrinkled skin when I heard a low rumble that changed into an overpowering BUZZZZZ.

  The sound was loud enough to shake the ground. It brought about a fear in me that I had not felt since that terrible Max Loving attempted to teach me a high-wire act.

  “GERONIMO!” Persephone screamed, hurling herself into the Fiber Forest. She hit hard and rolled over as the rest of us fled.

  “AAAUUUGGGHHH!” cried the crowd. The crickets had run off in the confusion, and somehow we all managed to get home to Toddlandia before the source of the horrible noise could show itself.

  With a heavy heart, I led my people to the big round structure we’d just finished a week before—our Meeting Hut—and moved to the lectern, one of Todd’s Lego blocks.

  “My fellow Toddlandians,” I’d said, “today we have reached a crisis the likes of which our people have never known. Lewis, you know our god better than anyone here. What is your inner wisdom, my friend?”

  Lewis kept his head down and said softly, “I feel our loyalty is being tested. Perhaps we need to try harder to please Todd.”

  I nodded slowly. “Yes, perhaps we should endeavor to more effectively please him or—” I understood Lewis’s devotion, but I felt I had to share my truth as well. “Or perhaps it’s time we found ourselves another god.”

  • • •

  Back in the present I climbed a stack of scientific journals beside Lucy’s desk, making a mental note to read through them if time allowed, and instructed my fellow Toddlians to gather upon Lucy’s close-cropped forest of fibers. “Citizens of Toddlandia! I think we can all agree after recent events that Great Todd is angry with us. I think perhaps Todd has left us with Lucy because he has … he has grown tired of us.”

  “You mean forsaken us?” Gerald the Elder asked in horror.

  The people began to wail, and there were cries of woe: “What’s to be done?” “Who will save us?” “We’re DOOOOOMED!”

&nbs
p; I raised my hands until everyone settled. I called to mind the words I had read in Encyclopedia Britannica, volume R, during the time of our captivity under Max. “Let us not panic. In the words of that noble lady, Eleanor Roosevelt: ‘You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing you think you cannot do.’ Now is not the time for fear but for action. Perhaps, as Lewis says, we owe it to ourselves to try to get back into Todd’s good graces and regain his favor, before taking more … dramatic actions.” I paused, swallowing hard. “Any suggestions?”

  Martin, a particularly lively youth, waved his arm wildly until I acknowledged him. “We could all dress up like characters from Dragon Sensei! I hereby volunteer to play Mongee-Poo.” He began to “HOO-HOO” and “HI-YAH!” while cavorting about recklessly. Some of the elders objected to the indignity of such a scheme, much to Martin’s disappointment.

  One of our maternal people made a more rational plan. “We could make him one of those Nitro Chicken Burgers like they serve at Cluck ’N’ Chuck. He practically licks the screen when one of those commercials comes on.”

  Lewis’s face lit up. “I can sing the jingle and do the chicken dance!” He bent his elbows and flapped about madly, singing, “Are ya tired of salad? Are ya sick of soup? Get your hungry on! Come down to our coop!” Several of the younger Toddlians joined in, clucking and mooing so I could not hear myself think. Finally Persephone whistled, stopping the ruckus.

  It was not long before we realized we could not manage the actual capture and killing of a chicken. Despite Persephone’s valiant offers to do the “fowl” deed, we had no idea where to find such a bird, dead or alive.

  Before we had formed any feasible plan, Lucy returned to her bedroom and knelt down beside us, donning her magnification spectacles.