The Cody Chronicles (Work in Progress)

Chapter One

Cody stared out the rear window of his parents' minivan, his grandparents' big red barn growing ever smaller as they drove further away. He could just barely make out the waving silhouettes of his grandparents.

He sat in the back seat, crowded uncomfortably between pieces of luggage, his sister, Abigail, and her friend, Marcella, and, of course, Barney. A foot tall, stuffed plushie of Barney, that is. (Cody would've been squished even more if it had been full-size Barney!) The baby brother had the entire middle row of seats to himself. The youngest child is always spoiled, Cody figured.

"So," Cody's dad said from the driver's seat, "did you guys have fun milking the chickens?"

Abigail and Marcella giggled. And, to his parents' surprise, so did Cody.

"Oh, we did much more than that," said Abigail.

"Yup," Marcella added. "Right, Cody?"

Cody nodded too, not entirely sure whether or not to spill the beans to his parents. Heck, even his grandparents believed in Barney now!

"Let's listen to the Barney tape!" Abigail suggested.

"Yeah," Cody quipped. Everyone stared at him. "Was it something I said?" he asked nonchalantly.

Now it his parents were even more surprised.

"Cody," his mother mused, "I didn't know you liked Barney now."

Cody shrugged. "I think he's pretty cool."

"Less conflict among the offspring is never a bad thing," Cody's father said encouragingly, taking a hand off the steering wheel to pat his wife reassuringly on the arm.

"We heard that," Abigail muttered mock-indignantly.

Cody chuckled this time, leaning back in his seat and sighing as the music came on. The familiar voices of Barney and his gang of little friends sang about a sailor who went to sea, sea, sea, to see what he could see, see, see. Alas, however, all he could see, see, see, was but the bottom of the deep blue sea, sea, sea.

"So, Cody," his mother called back, drawing him out of his reverie, "are you excited about starting middle school next week?"

Abruptly, Cody stopped swaying to the music. "N-next week?" Time had flown by way too quickly.

"Yes, dear, next week," said his mother patiently. "I've got to take you kids out shopping for new clothes and supplies."

"And we're starting fourth grade!" Abigail cheered, slapping fives with Marcella over Cody's head. The clap was deafening; the girls were getting to be quite strong.

Cody fell back in his seat again. He didn't want to think about school.

* * * *

Cody's new school, Kirby Junior High School, shared its building with the high school, which was especially confusing because, while the junior high school was named for George Kirby, the town's first mayor, the high school was named for his son, now a local selectman, George Kirby Junior. Ask any teen in Cody's town between ages twelve to eighteen which school they attended, and they would all reply, "Kirby Junior High School." Now do you see why it was so confusing? Hey, at least the schools could share a sign!

Cody now sat in the front seat of his parents' minivan while his mother drove him to school. She'd dropped Abigail and Marcella off earlier, so now, it was just him, his mother, and his baby brother. Cody's mother pulled up in front of the building, just as a bunch of other kids Cody didn't know filed unevenly out of a bright yellow school bus. Coincidentally, the song "The Wheels on the Bus" was playing from the Barney tape.

"Have a great time, Cody," his mother said, kissing him before he jumped out of the car.

All of the other kids stopped whatever it was they were doing to stare at him. Cody was sure he heard snickers and whispers of, "Did you hear what that guy was listening to?" He hoped they'd believe him if he told them the music was for his brother.

Cody hefted his purple backpack over one shoulder and slipped on his glasses in an attempt to look cool. He strutted past them, moving to the rhythm of "Ta-Ra-Ra-Boom-Dee-Yay" as it played in his head.

Cody found his classroom in no time flat. All he had to do was follow the kids. Kirby Junior High was a pretty small school, so this year, there was only one sixth grade class. He quickly took a seat in the back-most row, out of sight and, hopefully, out of mind. The last thing he needed was undue attention called to his musical interests.

And sure enough, some undue attention would soon be called to his musical interests.

"I see everyone's gotten set up quite nicely at the desks," a stern voice announced from somewhere in the front of the room. "I'm your teacher, Mrs. O'Dell, and I want everyone to sit in alphabetical order, so I'm afraid I'll have to ask all of you to move."

Groans could be heard all over the room as Mrs. O'Dell, a middle-aged woman in a flowery dress, called out names from a clipboard. The front row had five seats. The first four would be occupied by Alexander, Beowulf, Cassie, Carlie, and ... Cody. There was only one Cody, and that was him.

With a sigh, Cody picked up all of his things, stumbled over to his new desk, and dropped everything down messily on his desktop.

Mrs. O'Dell made a tsk-ing sound. "I hope you'll be neatening up before recess," she said, not sounding particularly impressed.

Cody slouched in his seat, feeling very worn out.

"Seeing as that you have all just finished your Summer vacations, I would like you to tell us you spent it," Mrs. O'Dell stated.

This turned on warning lights in Cody's head. Uh oh. Danger. Red Alert. Purple Alert.

"Let's start in alphabetical order again," Mrs. O'Dell announced. "Alexander, how did you spend your Summer vacation?"

Alexander, an average looking kid with a bored expression on his face, grouchily got up from his desk and drawled, "Hello, my name is Alexander Giacoussi. I spent my Summer vacation killing aliens on my Gameboy. That is how I spent my Summer vacation." Alexander promptly sat down again and resumed his bored look.

"Thank you, Alexander," Mrs. O'Dell said tersely. "Beowulf?"

Beowulf perked up and said, "I went bird watching with my uncle Freddy at this mountain in Canada, and we saw, like, all these birds," he proceeded to list a bunch of species. He would have listed even more had Mrs. O'Dell not cut him off.

"Thank you, Beowulf," Mrs. O'Dell said, pasting on a fake smile. "I am sure we would all be very interested in hearing more about your nature expedition another time."

Cody tried tuning the voices out in a vain attempt to concentrate on formulating a believable lie. That was a mistake, because then Cody realized that he hadn't really tuned them out. Mrs. O'Dell and everyone else in the classroom had gone silent.

"Cody?" Mrs. O'Dell addressed him.

"Yes?!" Cody yelped.

"Was there something you wanted to tell us about how you spent your summer vacation?"

Cody stood up hesitantly, and turned around to face his peers. "Uh, hey. My name's Cody. Um, this summer, I ... I met Barney."

And everybody laughed.

Chapter Two

Mrs. O'Dell smiled tightly, as though she was badly concealing a private notion of sending Cody to one of the special classrooms. "That's very nice, Cody," she said in a sugar-coated voice. "But what did you really do this summer?"

"I learned to use my imagination," Cody replied in all seriousness.

"It shows!" someone crowed from the back row.

"Cody," Mrs. O'Dell began, her voice rising an octave as she tried to keep a straight face. "Are you trying to tell me that you met a fictitious purple dinosaur?"

"No, ma'am," Cody replied politely. "I mean no disrespect, but he's real."

Mrs. O'Dell chuckled for the benefit of the class -- it sounded more like a hacking cough, but we all know she meant well -- and moved onto the next kid.

A small, folded-up piece of paper landed next to Cody's feet. He picked it up, and on it was a crudely drawn caricature of himself, standing next to an equally crude caricature of a dinosaur. Underneath, someone had scrawled the caption, Barney Boy.

Cody leaned back in his seat and sighed. It was going to be a long school year.

At recess, Cody found that he was the talk of the school. (The status of being the talk of the town would be reached later on, most likely when all the kids came home and told their parents, also known as the townspeople, and people talk.) The sixth graders told the seventh graders, and the seventh grade girls told their eight grade boyfriends, and the eight grade boyfriends told their classmates, and eventually, it reached the high school.

Kids who passed him in the hall shouted, "Hey, Barney Boy!" Others did horrendous Barney impressions. Cody would know; he'd met the real Barney.

When he returned to class, he found his desk completely covered with purple Post-It note paper. Dejectedly, he sat down on his chair, brushed off all of the Post-It notes, and rested his head on his desk.

Four kids sauntered over to him, among them Alexander Giacoussi. "Hey, Barney Boy," one of then jeered. "Tell us more about your adventures with Barney!"

Cody ignored them.

"Come on, Barney Boy. Why won't tell us with Barney, and how you learned to use your imagination? Did you 'play pretend' too?"

Cody looked up at them. "Yes," he said coolly. "I flew a plane."

"Show us," Alexander suggested ominously. "Show us how you fly a plane."

"Well...." Cody tried to stand up, but found he could not. His butt was glued to his seat!

"What's the matter, Barney Boy?" one of the guys sneered. "Too chicken?"

"Or too girly?" another guy added.

"Stand up and show us you're not a chicken, Barney Boy."

Cody couldn't stand up. He had a feeling this was all staged. "Just leave me alone," he begged. "You're right. I am a chicken, and if I use my imagination, I'll turn into one and peck your faces off!"

They all laughed at him, and turned around to leave, but not before taunting, "Barney Girl!"

* * * *

"My teacher's so nice!" Abigail gushed as the family sat around the dinner table, eating spaghetti and meat sauce. "She let Marcella and me sit together in arts and crafts!"

"That's nice, dear," Cody's mother said absently, trying to get the baby to stop throwing spaghetti everywhere and instead eat some.

"And how was school for you, Cody?" Cody's father asked, smiling in what Cody thought was a most blissfully ignorant way.

Cody grunted, not entirely sure what to tell them.

"Hm?" Cody's father said, confused.

"It went well," Cody replied reluctantly. "Absolutely dandy."

Abigail glanced at him worriedly. Somehow, Cody felt he could trust her, even though she was probably way too young to understand. The look he gave her signified, Meet me later. I'll tell you then.

"Alright, Cody, what happened?" Abigail demanded when they were finally alone in the kitchen. They were supposed to be doing the dishes, but this conversation was far more important than the hygiene of their flatware.

Cody drew in a breath. "Some kids ... they bothered me for liking Barney."

Abigail folded her arms across her chest. "I guess now you know what it feels like, Cody."

Cody sniffed indignantly. "I was different then, Abigail. I really do like Barney. I was such a doofus before. And I want to know, what do I do now?"

"We can't tell our parents," Abigail said insistently. "First of all, they don't believe in Barney. Secondly, if they think we're having a hard time in school, they might take us out and homeschool us!"

Cody paled, imagining spending the whole day at home, learning artsy things with his parents instead of math and science with other kids his age, and worst of all, doing it all in his pajamas! No, that couldn't happen. He wouldn't let it happen.

"Cody." Abigail's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "We can't do this alone. This calls for a meeting with Marcella!"

Chapter Three

Cody, Abigail, and Marcella sat in the cafe of Barnes and Noble while their mothers perused the romance novels together and giggled every so often. Cody had a decaffeinated iced coffee, while his sister and her friend drank coffee creamer straight out of the tiny plastic containers.

When Cody finished recounting the events of the previous day, Marcella wiped off her creamer mustache and pursed her lips. "Cody, didn't you try using your imagination?" she asked.

Cody nodded. "Yes. I imagined Barney coming by in a huge army tank and running the dorks over."

Marcella and Abigail shook their heads in alarm, clearly scandalized. "Barney doesn't do violent stuff!" they both exclaimed.

"Then I just imagined Barney being there with me," Cody retorted. "And that didn't work either."

The three children returned to their drink and coffee creamers respectively, lost in thought.

Suddenly, Marcella looked up. "Hey, I've got an idea!"

"What is it?" Cody asked, some of his old skepticism coming back.

"Whenever we see Barney come alive on TV," Marcella began, "the kids always have a doll of him around. Maybe if you keep a Barney doll with you at school tomorrow...."

"Uh-uh," Abigail cut in defensively. "He's not taking my doll!"

"He doesn't have to." Marcella unclipped her little plastic Barney keychain from her bag and handed it to Cody. "You can use this."

Cody examined the keychain. Barney smiled at him toothily from his hand. "Thanks, Marcella," he sighed. "Can I keep him?"

"You need to give him back to me when you're done," Marcella replied sternly. "It's the only one I've got."

"I'll give him back to you," Cody grinned. "I promise."

Promises are rarely kept in the real world, despite what Barney might want you to think.

Chapter Four

When Cody walked into homeroom the next morning, he had an air of confidence about him, a youthful spring in his step. For the first time in awhile, he hummed a song that wasn't by Barney, "Do You Believe in Magic?" by Loving Spoonful. It was, however, relevant all the same.

But all was lost when he saw what Alexander Giacoussi had done to his desk. A more appropriate song for the situation would be a parody of a well-known Rolling Stones Song. The parody would be called "Paint It Purple." Yes, Alexander Giacoussi had painted Cody's desk and chair a garishly bright shade of neon purple.

"Go ahead and sit down," Alexander said sardonically, taking Cody roughly by the arm and shoving him into his seat.

Cody had been wondering if the paint was still wet. Now he knew, it most definitely was. If he stood up.... He didn't even want to think about it. He didn't even bother to consider what would happen when the paint dried.

Soon enough, Mrs. O'Dell entered the classroom, and the first thing she noticed was Cody and his desk. She cleared her throat authoritatively. "What have we here?"

"Cody painted his desk," Alexander volunteered quickly. "We all saw him, didn't we?"

Twenty others voiced their affirmative.

But Alexander wasn't finished yet. "I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen. Said something about Barney making him do it."

Mrs. O'Dell glared down at Cody before he could counter Alexander's accusation. "Vandalism of school property is a very serious offense, Cody. I expect that you will stay after hours to clean this all up."

This wasn't just an expectation. This was an order. Cody sat stiffly in his seat and nodded an equally stiff affirmative. There was no point trying to argue; it would get him nowhere now.

But, he reassured himself, fingering the small wooden Barney hanging from his bag, this time, he had Barney on his side.

Unfinished. To be continued.