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the only one not having a good time on this warm Sunday afternoon.
    Paul and Joan Hoffman and their daughter, Jessica, who was in a couple of Cody’s classes at York Middle, were enthusiastically whacking the crabs with little wooden mallets and digging out the yucky-looking white stuff inside. So were Cody’s mom and dad, who, once they’d been given a quick lesson on the art of crab picking, had taken to it like seasoned pros.
    Apparently there was a ritual to be followed. First, the Hoffmans explained, you pulled off the little legs and licked off the seasoning. Then you cracked open the claws and dug out the meat. Then you did the same thing with the shell. But when you cracked open the shell, Cody saw, you found some really yucky-looking green stuff.
    â€œThat’s called the mustard,” Mr. Hoffman explained. “Some people like it. It’s sort of the crab’s, um, liver and pancreas.”
    Oh, yum, yum, Cody thought. The liver and pancreas!
    He looked down at the half-open crab in front of him and felt his stomach recoil.
    Whatever happened to welcoming your new neighbors with a cookout? he wondered. With, like, hamburgers and hot dogs? Wouldn’t that be a nice thing to do? Who didn’t like all-American food like that?
    Or how about a pizza party? That would be even better! No fuss, no muss for the hosts. Although pizza, Cody had to admit, was probably not the best thing for a thirteen-year-old ballplayer newly determined to lose weight so he wouldn’t be the butt of jokes for the entire population of York Middle School, not to mention one particular member of his Babe Ruth League team.
    Cody went back to listlessly whacking a crab claw, hoping no one would notice he was too grossed out to eat any of the stuff.
    Suddenly he was aware of someone standing behind him.
    â€œLet me guess,” Jessica began. “Wisconsin Boy is semi–freaking out about now. He’s never even seen steamed crabs, never mind eaten them. And the idea of popping a chunk of that white stuff in his mouth is making him want to hurl. Is that pretty much the story so far?”
    Cody nodded weakly and felt his face growing red. Jessica was a slim, athletic-looking girl with long blond hair and big blue eyes. Gazing into those eyes now reminded Cody that he never knew what to say in the presence of pretty girls.
    He tugged his shirt down over his belly and managed a weak smile. Immediately, alarm bells went off in his head: No, don’t give her the fake smile! The one that makes you look like your grandma just kissed you!
    â€œIf it makes you feel better,” Jessica said, plopping down next to him, “I didn’t like crabs the first time I tried them, either.”
    Actually, Cody thought, that does make me feel better.
    â€œOf course,” Jessica said, “I was only two years old at the time.”
    She laughed uproariously and punched him playfully on the shoulder. “Time to man up, Wisconsin Boy,” she said. “Here, watch how the pros do it.”
    Expertly, she cracked a shell in half and dug out a thick slice of meat with her knife. “Okay, try this,” she said, holding it out for him. “This is the best part. You’ll think you died and went to heaven.”
    Staring at the glistening white chunk, Cody could imagine dying, but not heaven. Increasingly, it was feeling like the opposite of heaven—that other place with all the flames and wailing and suffering. A wave of nausea came over him.
    But everyone at the table was looking at him now, waiting to see what he’d do. If he didn’t at least try the stuff, he’d look like the world’s biggest wuss. With his luck, it would get around school too: Know that fat kid who looks like he’s pretty much eaten the world’s entire food supply? He wouldn’t even try a teeny piece of crabmeat! What a loser!
    Before he could change his mind, Cody grabbed the meat and popped it