.:15:.

Cody's Log IV

So what do you do when multiple people tell you the same thing? You can react to it the way Zack does, by ignoring it with a wave of a hand and a roll of the eyes. Or you can react to it the way I, and everyone else does; think there's some sort of truth to it.

How many times can people say Mr. Moseby had a slight tendency to be a bit critical? Enough so that he worked to make sure he eased back on the comments and majorly high standards he put on people. Though when it came to me and Zack, he was still very critical. To the point that I still get stared at when I walk into the Tipton. Well, not stared at rather than glared at. Even though I'm the nicer twin than Zack—of which Zack would also make the same statement—Mr. Moseby still glares at me.

Okay, I'll admit that I used to have as much of a bad reputation as Zack. But I was bored and lonely when we first moved into the Tipton. I didn't have anyone around to talk to or hang out with except Zack and that was when we were very similar. When we still had the same interests. Not that we don't know, it's just they're a bit harder to find. That's okay. At the beginning of living at the Tipton, it was fun running around and getting in as much trouble as we could.

But I've matured since then. Mr. Moseby and I are on better terms. Even he and Zack are on better terms. (Though that's mostly through Mr. Moseby being Zack's boss as Zack kept his job at the daycare). Nevertheless, Mr. Moseby has managed to change before our very eyes and isn't as mean and spiteful as he used to be. Stressed. But not as mean and spiteful.

Then that brings me to London. How many times can people call her an airhead heiress? If they make that mistake now, they'll know quickly it's a mistake. London may have been a slow learner in school and everything that didn't have to do with her money and status in the world, but she's a lot smarter than other people give her credit for. She started her own web show, with my help, and made it one of the biggest and financially wealthy web shows before it's time. She sold the show—giving me a pretty good chunk of fortune for my time producing and directing the show—and made sure to keep it under the Tipton name. All royalties and the name 'Yay Me," became branded and eventually turned into her fashion line.

The same fashion line she'd gone to a good school to create. Other people saw her as too dumb to live and too lazy to make it through school, but London made a name for herself. So much so that I don't mind being a mannequin for her when she was back in Boston and working to get the rest of her company off the ground. London Tipton was a lot smarter than anyone would give her credit for.

How many times could people say things about other people until they saw the truth? It took me a bit too long. I couldn't understand why it, honestly. I've heard people say I'm a nerd; it never hurt my feelings. I knew the things I was interested in didn't interest other people. It wasn't until people like Drew—and even sometimes Zack—would just roll their eyes or make me shut up because they didn't want to hear what I had to say that bothered me. Then I met Tapeworm and Bailey and found they enjoyed those same things as much as I did. All I needed to do was find someone who had the same interests as me.

I've heard people say I was weak and the worst person to pick for sports. So I started to play basketball. And I love it as much as I used to, even when I had only been a bench warmer during that time. I made a change.

But there was something about me I didn't quite believe. That was I obsess. That I'm a perfectionist. That I need things to be perfect. I didn't believe it no matter how many people told me. Tapeworm told me straight to my face that I was obsessing over my college applications. And it still took me a while until it struck deep. Until I couldn't ignore it anymore.

I needed a second opinion on my personal statement and knew Christian would be a good place to go. Dad wouldn't have understood half of what I said, Mom wouldn't either, but I knew she'd say it was great just because I wrote it, Maddie was too critical, and Zack was definitely not an option. I didn't want him to read it. Not yet.

So during my last period of school, which is one of my free periods, I went to the Crystal's house and knocked rapidly on the door. Christian looked surprised to see me when he opened the door, squinting at the sheet that held sign-ups for his office hours then looked back at me.

"Cody, what are you doing here?" He asked. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"I have a free this last period," Cody explained. He hefted his backpack up his shoulder. "Typically, I use that time to tutor other students, but I was hoping I could get some help."

Christian's eyebrows lifted. "What can I help you with?"

"My personal statement for my essay. You're a professor and you give out a lot of papers to grade. I'm sure you have some idea of what is right and wrong with syntax, diction, flow, things like that." I looked over Christian's shoulder toward the quiet house then at Christian. He looked tired, a five o'clock shadow covering more of his chin and cheeks than I'd ever seen on him. "This isn't a bad time, is it?"

Christian looked at me for a moment, he looked like he was staring right through me. Finally, he sucked in a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, yeah, Cody, please come in." He stepped back and let me inside. Now, I hang out with my friends a lot, as of late it's mostly been online, at school, at the mall, at the park, or at the movies. I hadn't been in the Manning house for a while.

But it's never looked like this. With eight people living in one house, it's bound to be messy from time to time. Even living in a one-bedroom suite, which was much bigger than any of the rooms Zack and I'd ever shared, Zack managed to make an avalanche out of it. This was different. I'd known the Mannings and Jacksons long enough to know they cleaned twice a week to keep things from getting too bad. This time, the house was filled with newspapers, magazines, and baskets of laundry that seemed to be out of place as much as the many potted plants that lined the hallway and runners of the living room.

I could only imagine what the rest of the house could look like.

"Do you want something to drink?" Christian asked, moving into the kitchen. I followed him, noticing the dishes piling in the sink. That certainly was the biggest sing that something was off. If anything else in the house was dirty, the kitchen was always spotless. I made a mental note to ask Crystal about it later, wondering if there was anything about her and Aaron that I'd missed as well. "Water? Some pop?"

"No," I said slowly. "I don't want to put you out." I also worried if there were any clean dishes at the moment. Though I couldn't help but notice the potted plants in the kitchen as well. Unlike the others sitting around the hallway and living room, these had brilliant flowers that stood proudly out of their soil. I glanced at Christian, noticing his dirtied palms. "Was I interrupting something?"

"No," Christian replied quickly. He placed his hands on his hips then ran a hand through his hair. I couldn't help but recoil at the thought of the germs that he'd just put all over his head. "I was just doing some light gardening. You said you wanted me to help you with your paper, eh?"

"Personal statement," I corrected.

"Right, right. Well, let me see it."

I hesitated, watching Christian's outstretched hand for a second. It wasn't like it was gold or anything, it even still had some of Tapeworm's blood on it from the paper cut I gave him earlier that morning, and handed over my personal statement. I sat along with Christian at the island as he flipped through the pages, pouring over every word I wrote.

They call it a personal statement for a reason. It's personal. Like a diary. Having someone else read it, seriously read it, made my heart twist and nerves erupt in my stomach. Much more than the nerves of the basketball game coming up. Basketball was an extracurricular. This was my future and I put a lot of thought into it. Nevertheless, I couldn't handle the silence. I needed to talk about something, to drown out everything shooting through my brain.

"So, the place looks a little more…" I started slowly.

"Messy?" Christian broke in, without looking up from the paper.

"No," I said quickly. Besides, nothing could be messier than Zack's side of the room. No matter if we were living at the Tipton or at dad's place, he somehow managed to bring a mountain of clothes, books, and knick-knacks all over the place. (As of late, his favorite thing to mess around with—and shoot me awake with—were Nerf Guns). "It just looks like you're starting your own green house or something."

"Yeah, we're just getting ready for the Spring," Christian mumbled, scratching at his jaw. "I want to make sure the garden looks okay by the time the weather turns warmer."

I stared at him. "That's not for a few months," I pointed out. "What with Global Warming and the way pollution has been moving in Boston lately. And, of course, there are the flowers that only thrive in certain climates—"

"Yeah, well, I like gardening," Christian said shortly. I immediately snapped my mouth shut, seeing something painful flash through his eyes. Obviously, it meant more to him than I thought. Or would even know. "It's relaxing. And trust me when I saw the Spring semester is the most stress-filled semester in school."

"Oh." I tapped my fingertips against the bottom of the bar stool. "Can't be as stressful as it is here," I said, making my voice light as I joked.

The corner of Christian's mouth turned up. "It's different when they're your own kids."

"I know what you mean," I agreed. "Mr. Moseby always says there's a difference between the trouble we get into and the trouble guests's children get into when they're staying at the hotel."

"Potential of calling the police?"

"Noise level. Apparently, Zack and I are much quieter. And that makes us much scarier." I smiled at the thought. "But things haven't been as hectic there lately. Not many guests with kids are coming. So there's not many people to hang out with at the Tipton."

"I'm sure Mr. Moseby is thrilled about that, too." Christian's smile widened as he slapped my personal statement onto the counter. He folded his arms and looked me in the eye. "And I'm supposed to believe that's why you and Zack are always here."

"Well, I don't know about Zack, but I do like how lively it is here," I said honestly. Then again, I knew exactly why Zack always liked coming over. "There's always someone to hang out with, always someone to talk to. Things stay the same around here." I couldn't help the wistful tone that came to my voice. The Tipton hotel had been different as the years went on. More professional conventions, less celebrities. Less people wanting to hang out, more people leaving.

"You know, that's the point about life," Christian pointed out. His eyes shifted at the sound of a door closing. "If things stayed the same, life would be very boring." He let out a sigh, turning his gaze away from my personal statement. "Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it's the best thing that'll ever happen to you. You won't know until you experience it." Then, without looking over his shoulder, he said, "Hey, Rhu."

"Hey, Uncle Christian," Rhuben called back, practically bouncing into the kitchen. I couldn't help but stare, noticing she had her dance team uniform on. The one made of spandex and strategically placed glitter that she made work. Now I knew why Zack always played harder during practice when they were on the other side of the gym. (Not that I didn't know before, but I prided myself on keeping my head in the game).

"How'd you know it was her?" I asked the older man.

He placed his rough hand on my shoulder and smiled warmly. "You have enough of these monsters running through the house and you learn their door slams, knocks, and rapid footsteps quicker than most would." He tilted his head. "You know how your mom can always tell if you or Zack was the one who was crying for attention?"

I folded my arms, a dark expression coming to my face. "Yeah, it was usually me. Zack wouldn't stop poking, pinching, and prodding me all because he couldn't sleep and didn't want to be the only one awake."

Christian laughed. "It's exactly like that." He patted Rhuben on the head and left the kitchen with long strides, taking two potted plants along with him as he went.

I watched him as he went, suddenly feeling simultaneously self-conscious and completely comfortable. That was something I always liked about being around Rhuben, that she could easily make me nervous sand feel at home. If I'm being honest, it's probably because of having dated before. And…because I'm not quite sure where we are now. Every time we talk, it's…

"Hey," I finally greeted her. Then mentally smacked myself. God, how much more lame can I get? If Zack were here, he'd say a lot. But I didn't need him for that. My own insecurities could handle it just fine. "I thought you'd be at school."

"Same here," Rhuben agreed with a nod. She squeezed an eye shut, thinking for a moment. "Last I checked, you're supposed to be tutoring someone right now, yeah?"

I tried not to grimace. How many people would question it when they knew it was Sadie I was supposed to tutor? I'd managed to avoid her all day and when I saw the sign-up, I quickly told Miss. Tutweiller I had something more important come up. I hate lying, but this was the one time I didn't feel guilty about it. The sense of relief that came over me within those seconds was enough.

"Something came up," I replied. "So, I came by to see if your uncle would help me with my personal statement."

Rhuben lifted an eyebrow. "Has anyone ever told you, you can obsess sometimes?"

"She said it, not me," Christian said, pointing to his niece as he popped back into the kitchen. I jumped in surprise, not noticing he'd come back to take some more plants. Christian glanced at me and smiled once more, taking that as his cue to slide my personal statement to me and climb down from his stool. "This is fine, Cody. Stop worrying so much."

I frowned, taking my paper back. Fine. It was just fine? It had to be better than fine. I looked to Rhuben and she smirked, pointing to her uncle's retreating back and said, "He said it, not me. Mate, why don't you just turn it in and stop thinking about it?"

"Because the minute I turn it in it's the only thing I'm going to be thinking about," I replied. "Not until I get my acceptance."

"Isn't that the same thing that's happening now? Last I checked, Codes, this is all you've been talking about for the past few weeks."

"No." I paused. "I haven't gotten to me obsession stage yet. That's going to take another week at the most." She laughed and I smiled. "So, uh, what are you doing here?" I tried not to focus too much on her dance team uniform. I'm not one above being able to admire the female form, but at least I didn't go so far into locker room talk. (I never saw how it'd help move things along, honestly).

"I forgot my pom-poms." She motioned to where they sat on the counter next to the microwave. I gave her a funny look and she explained, "I was beating Patrick over the head with them and forgot them on my way out."

"Huh." I smiled. "Death by cheerleader, never heard that one."

"Ah, ah!" She held up her finger. "I'm on the dance team, I'm not a cheerleader. Cheerleading is in the fall and I'm too busy running for that." She grinned then looked closely at me. "You really came all the way here just to get Uncle Christian to look at your personal statement?" I shrugged. "Why didn't you just ask me or Riles or Crys or Bailey? We're all in AP English with you."

"Because I needed an unbiased person to look at it."

"Tapeworm read it over."

"Tapeworm made fun of it. And if I remember correctly, he used the same word you did. That I was obsessed with my college applications." I blew my hair from my face and looked at her through my eyelashes. "And anyway, if I gave it to you, would you have read it?"

Rhuben twisted her mouth to the side and grabbed her pom-poms, spinning them in her hands. "I don't know," she said honestly. "I reckon I would've been a bit surprised if you'd asked me."

I frowned again. What? How could she think that? Especially after working on applications and homework together recently. I thought we'd had a moment. So much so I'd burned it through my head more than enough times, analyzing every move she'd made, every smile she flashed, every time she looked at me, and couldn't come up with a reasonable answer for any of it.

"Why?" I couldn't help but ask. "I mean, once I finally finished with it I would've…"

"Well, that's the thing," Rhuben said slowly. She folded her arms, her pom-poms shaking slightly as she did so. "I never thought you have the time for it. Or me. Or anyone else for that matter." With a shrug, she turned on her heel and left the house.

Is she right?

Do I not make enough time for everything else?

But most importantly, what did she mean that I didn't have time for her?

I've never heard that one before.

-CM

A/N: Sorry for the wait of a new chapter. I hope you all enjoyed this one. I also hope I'm getting Cody's voice right as I continue with this story. Sometimes it's difficult to go through his thought process in terms of his advanced vocabulary and academic interests.

Cheers,

-Riles