Everybody Bugs Out (4 page)

“What if we track pollution in different parts of the neighborhood?” I asked.

Tobias made his “that sounds stupid” face.

I finally had to ask him outright, “Do you really hate the idea, or are you just saying no to all my suggestions because we rejected yours?”

“Let's make a volcano!” said Tobias, which didn't exactly answer my question.

“Huh?” I asked.

“We'll build a miniature one and also do a research paper on the history of volcanoes. You know—ones that have erupted and smothered people. There's one in Italy, I think. And Hawaii, too.”

“My friend Yumi just got back from Hawaii. Maybe she has some pictures we can use.”

Oliver shook his head. “No, forget it. We did a volcano experiment in the fifth grade. It's too easy. Just a matter of combining vinegar and baking soda.”

“And red dye, so the explosion runoff looks like real lava,” said Tobias.

“Right, I remember that from last year, too,” said Oliver, clearly getting annoyed.

“Well, this will be better than that one. Bigger. Maybe we can use some miniature dinosaurs …”

“I thought you wanted to base the project on a real explosion,” I said. “The one in Italy killed people, not dinosaurs. It's not like people and dinosaurs can exist at the same time.”

“Or so people say,” said Tobias.

“You are kidding, right?” I bit my bottom lip and tried to think of a good way to tell him his idea was the dumbest I'd heard all year. Maybe the worst I'd ever heard in my life. In a nicer way, I mean … “Dinosaurs just seem a little, immature … And the whole volcano thing, well, it's like Oliver said. You guys already did that last year. In elementary school. Elementary also meaning simple and basic. Childish, even.” (Rachel wasn't the only one benefiting from her word-a-day calendar.)

“Whatever, Spaz!” said Tobias.

“That's not her name,” Oliver said. At least I think he said it. The bell rang right when he opened his mouth, and then the room got so noisy, it was hard to hear.

“See you,” Tobias called as he stood up and left.

Oliver waited for me to put my notebook away so we could head out of class together.

“Don't worry,” he said. “We'll come up with something great. How about we all go to my house after school tomorrow?”

“Okay,” I said.

“Great. I'll tell Tobias—make sure he's free.”

“Great,” I repeated, with exactly zero enthusiasm.

I didn't say what I was really thinking: so much for my grand plans of winning the science fair. With Tobias on our team, we may not even get the chance to enter.

chapter five

ladybug landing

T
he good news is, even if Emma and I wanted to work together, we wouldn't have been able to. She's busy with the physics club, volunteering at the library, and piano lessons on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Meanwhile, my mom works late on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which means I have to come straight home to walk Pepper. We couldn't even meet up over the weekend, since I'd just signed up for karate, which happens every Saturday, and Emma has to spend Sundays with her family.

“It's too bad our schedules don't match up,” said Emma once we finally got a chance to talk after school that day. “But you're lucky you have partners. I don't even know who I'm working with—if anyone.”

“What about Phil?” I asked. “I thought you two might pair up.”

Emma looked away, a slight frown on her lips. “I thought so, too. But he got weird when I asked.”

This surprised me, since Phil seemed like a super-sweet boyfriend. On their two-week anniversary, he gave Emma a banana chocolate-chip muffin, and while that sounds icky to me, it's Emma's favorite kind. “Weird how?” I asked.

Emma took a deep breath and answered fast. “Well, we're both big science nerds and, as I pointed out, we could easily meet up after the physics club, but he said he wanted to do his own thing because he's got a better chance of winning that way. Oh—and he also told me that I shouldn't be offended because he's only being honest.”

“At least he has good reasons.”

Emma didn't seem very convinced. “Ever notice how whenever someone says ‘no offense,' it's like they're compensating because what they're saying is, in fact, extremely offensive?”

“I never really thought about it,” I replied. “I wonder what he's doing.”

“Something involving his hamster, Einstein,” said Emma. “But he wouldn't tell me what, exactly.”

She seemed annoyed by this, and I didn't blame her. What kind of boyfriend kept secrets like that? “He's probably just worried that you'll come up with something better, which is exactly what you should do.”

Emma shrugged. “I don't have any good ideas—except for cloning a fish, but that'll cost more than fifty dollars, I think.”

“Probably,” I said. “Why don't you work with someone else?”

“Yumi and Claire are in science together, and they're already working with Hazel Feldman. But I guess I could check with Rachel.”

“You totally should. And I'll be so jealous when you guys get Space Camp scholarships and I'm stuck at home all summer.”

“Your group has just as good a chance of winning as the rest of us.”

It was nice of Emma to be so encouraging, but I knew things wouldn't be that easy.

At least my group wasn't alone. Turned out lots of kids were having trouble coming up with a good project idea. It was all anyone could talk about in class the next day. Luckily, Ms. Roberts was able to help us out. Well, kind of. Being a teacher, she suggested a visit to the library.

“There are whole books devoted to science fair projects,” she explained. “You can look online if you'd like, although I must warn you. There are also websites that sell entire science projects, and this is not just frowned upon, it can get you suspended. We have a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to plagiarism at Birchwood, so don't even think about using someone else's work.”

“What if we accidentally plagiarize something?” asked Monique Parker in her strong French accent. Some people think it's fake because she was born in Missouri and only lived in France for a year when she was two, but I don't know. Her mother is from there.

“There's a big difference between using outside reference materials and actually stealing intellectual property,” Ms. Roberts said. “Basically, do not copy something word for word. And if you do use someone's idea, make sure to provide the appropriate reference. I've written out the specifics, because this is important. So please open your notebooks and write down the definition.”

She turned on the overhead projector, where she'd defined
plagiarism:
To steal or pass off someone else's ideas or work as your own, or to use someone else's work without crediting your source.

Ms. Roberts coughed. “In other words, no cutting and pasting. Everything must be written in your own words. And if you come up with a project that you found in a book or online, mention that in the reference section of your final report. Is this clear?”

Oliver raised his hand. “What if you come up with something that you think is original but someone has actually done it before? Because haven't people been doing science projects for millions of years?”

“You've raised a good point, Oliver,” said Ms. Roberts. “However, I think that millions of years is a bit of an exaggeration. The first science fair can be traced back to the 1920s and they became very popular in the 1950s. But yes—that's still a considerable number of projects. And there's nothing wrong with repeating an experiment that's been done before. I'm sure that will be the case with most groups. Some of you may enter similar or even the same projects, which is fine. What I'm saying is, original work is a must. You must do the experiment yourself or with your partners and write everything in your own words. Okay?”

Everyone nodded except for Davis Peabody, who was too busy drawing pictures of monsters wearing tighty whities. (It's his latest thing—weird, I know. And speaking of plagiarism, kind of a Captain Underpants rip-off.)

“Now, if anyone has any further concerns, we can discuss them after class,” Ms. Roberts said before going on to talk about cell structure.

As soon as the bell rang, my lab group made plans to meet up after last period so we could go to Oliver's house.

And before I knew it, the school day had ended and we were on our way. Oliver lives in Canyon Ranch, which is the rich part of town on the other side of school. It felt weird walking to his place, not because of all the gigantic houses we kept passing but because for the first time ever, I was walking to a boy's house—and going there with not one but two whole boys.

Of course, technically, Oliver and I were the only ones walking. Tobias had his dirt bike and he rode it slowly in front of us, circling back every block or two to complain about how slowly we were moving.

The thing that made the trip funny was how normal it felt. It wasn't that much different from walking home with Rachel.

There were no rhyming games, and we didn't talk about the school dance or about who was going out with whom, and we didn't compliment each other's outfits, but Oliver and I did talk about school stuff. Which classes he liked—English, math, and Spanish—and which ones he couldn't stand—social studies and stained glass.

“I thought those art classes were supposed to be fun,” I said.

“Me, too,” said Oliver. “That's why I signed up. But Jeremiah Lindy sliced open his middle finger on our second day of cutting glass and he needed six stitches.”

“Yee-ouch!” I said.

“Yeah, I almost passed out when I saw the blood. Oh, and then Claire Macintyre burned herself with the soldering iron and had to go to the nurse. It wasn't that serious, but ever since then, just going into class kind of freaks me out.”

“I can see why.”

“What's your elective?” he asked.

“Chorus,” I said.

“I should've signed up for that. Probably much less chance of getting injured.”

“You'd think, but Jeff Diamond fell off a table and sprained his ankle last week.”

“Why was he on the table?” asked Oliver.

“Why do boys do anything?” I asked before I remembered whom I was talking to. “Um, no offense.”

Turns out Emma was right about her “no offense” theory. I just hoped Oliver didn't know about it.

Lucky for me he just laughed and said, “No worries. But I think we're onto something. Maybe we should do a statistical analysis of the dangers of electives at Birchwood Middle School.”

“It's not the worst idea you've had,” I said.

“Gee, thanks,” he said, all sarcastic. “Oh—I forgot to tell you. I picked up a couple of books on science fair projects at the school library.”

I grinned. “I tried to do the same at lunch but everything was already checked out.”

“Guess I beat you to it. Good thing you're on my team.”

“Oh, it's
your
team?” I asked, jokingly.

“Yup,” said Oliver.

“Find anything good?”

“I haven't actually looked yet,” Oliver said, stopping in front of a large house. Tobias sat under one of the palm trees out front, with his bike at his side.

“Took you long enough,” he said, standing up and brushing the dirt off his jeans.

Oliver walked up the path to the front door and we both followed him. Once inside he called, “I'm home!”

Then a tall, skinny woman with dark skin and long braids walked into the entryway. She and Oliver had the same bright smile and similar accents, too.

“Hey, Mum,” said Oliver.

“Hi, dear.” She bent down to give him a kiss on the cheek and he didn't even seem that embarrassed about it.

“You have impeccable timing. I just got back from the grocery store.”

“Cool.” Oliver shrugged off his backpack and dropped it by the door.

“Hello, Tobias,” said Oliver's mom.

“Hi.” Tobias waved.

“And you must be Annabelle,” she said, smiling down at me. “I'm Clarice. And I know you three have lots of work to do, so go ahead and get started and I'll fix you a snack.”

Tobias and I followed Oliver to the den, which had all sorts of cool stuff—a gigantic flat-screen TV with a video game console, and train tracks for an electric railroad circling the entire room. I kind of wanted to see it in action but didn't want to ask. I was hoping Tobias would, but instead he picked up a mini Nerf basketball off the floor and tossed it at the hoop that hung on the other side of the room.

“Nice try,” said Oliver as the shot bounced off the rim.

Oliver picked up the ball and swished it through the net, one handed. Then he raised his arms above his head and yelled “Victory!” Like he'd just been named the world-champion of Nerf basketball.

“Dude, that was a total lucky shot,” said Tobias.

“Says you,” said Oliver.

Tobias smirked and threw Oliver the ball. “Let's try for the best out of five,” he said.

“Fine.” Oliver caught the ball and immediately tossed it to me. “You go first, Annabelle.”

Neither boy said anything when I shot and missed. Something I appreciated. But it still felt embarrassing. Problem was, I overshot because I wasn't used to the weight—or lack thereof—of the ball. But there was no point in making excuses. I tossed the ball to Tobias, who made the shot, and then he gave it to Oliver, who missed.

Luckily I made the next one and two more. Tobias and I tied and Oliver beat us both. Not surprising, since the hoop was his so he got to practice whenever he wanted. After the game, Tobias pulled down a strange, flat-looking paddle from the wall and began swinging it around.

“Careful, dude,” said Oliver.

“What is that?” I asked.

“A cricket bat,” said Tobias.

“A what?”

“It's a sport that's really popular back in Jamaica. More popular than baseball, even,” Oliver explained.

“I think I've heard of it,” I said, which was kinda true. “Do you play?”

“Only when I visit my relatives in Jamaica or in London, because no one plays here in Westlake.”

“Are we going to figure out this science fair thing?” asked Tobias, setting down the bat. “Because I've only got an hour.”

Oliver tossed him a book and then gave one to me. “You guys take a look at these and I'll search online,” he said, opening up a laptop I hadn't even noticed in one corner of the room.

I flipped through the book, which listed all types of science fair projects. There was stuff on astronomy, stuff on earthquakes, stuff on the digestive system of cows … All kind of interesting but nothing that really jumped out at me to say, “This is the topic that's going to propel you to Space Camp!” Not even the project on propellers.

“How about we do a project on recycling?” Oliver said a moment later.

I looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Like, what happens when we don't do it? You know—the whole global warming thing. Maybe we could create a melting glacier?”

“That's a good idea,” I said.

“Monique is doing something on recycling,” said Tobias. “Jonathan's group, too.”

“Both of them?” I asked.

“Yep, and that's just in our class. All that environmental stuff is way too trendy. There's going to be a million projects just like it.”

“Good point,” I said, because it was. Maybe I'd judged Tobias too quickly. He wasn't completely clueless.

We continued to flip through the science fair project books in search of something original.

Tobias suggested an ant farm and Oliver nixed the idea before I had a chance to. “My brother had one of those once and it broke and all the ants escaped. It was a mess!”

A few minutes later, Oliver's mom poked her head into the room. “I hate to interrupt, but I couldn't help noticing how nice it is outside.”

“Mum, we're trying to work,” said Oliver.

“You can work outside,” Clarice said. “And you may as well, since I already put some snacks out by the pool.”

Once she was gone, Oliver stood up and stretched and said, “I'm sorry. She's always on my case about getting fresh air.”

“It's no biggie,” I said. “And it is pretty nice out.”

We followed Oliver out to his backyard, which was huge, with a gazebo on one side and a big swimming pool on the other. The water looked sparkly and inviting even though it wasn't quite warm enough to swim. I took a step closer so I could get a better look at the rock formation waterfall but then stepped back, having momentarily forgotten that whenever I get too close to the edge of a pool I imagine myself falling—or being pushed—in. Don't know why, but I wasn't taking any chances.