Brendan Buckley's Sixth-Grade Experiment (25 page)

“It doesn't matter, Brendan. What we did was great—and important. And we had a lot of fun together.” She looked at me out of the corner of her eye and smiled. “Didn't we?”

I was starting to get a little hot under my sweater. “Yeah, I guess.”

Mr. H put his hand on my shoulder. “There's always next year, bud.”

At home, I lay on my bed watching my solar-system mobile spin slowly from the air blowing through the vent. I glanced at Einstein's empty tank. I had told Grandpa Ed I wanted another anole after all—once I got over Einstein, of course.

My mind returned to the contest. I'd really hoped we'd win the whole thing, mainly because it would be awesome, but also so that Dad would see that this science
“stuff”
was
worth my time. Would I tell him about it when he got home? Would he even care?

A weight settled on me. Not
on
me, exactly, as if an elephant were sitting on my chest. More like
in
me. My legs, torso, and arms felt as if they'd been injected with lead. I had
become
heaviness.
Maybe this is what it feels like to be a hundred feet under the ocean
, I thought. The opposite of being in outer space.
Sub
gravity. Being pulled toward the Earth's core so forcefully that you can't lift your body if you try. Morgan had told me she wanted to be a geobiologist, a scientist who studies the connection between rocks and life, exploring the rocks below the deep sea floor. She was brave. I didn't think I could handle being that far under water.

I thought of Grandpa Ed again. He knew how important this contest had been to me. He would understand.

Six months ago, I hadn't known my grandpa's phone number or where he lived. Or even if he was alive. I had never spoken to him. Not once. Things sure had changed.

I got the phone and came back to my room. I speeddialed his number.

“Yell-o.”

“It's me.”

“Well, hello, me. Good to hear from you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Nothing, really. I just wanted to say hi.”

“That's good enough reason in my book. So, what have you been up to?”

“Not much. Studying. Homework.” I paused. “We didn't win the national prize.”

Grandpa Ed was silent for a moment. “I thought your voice was lacking its usual luster. Pretty disappointed, huh?”

I sighed and bent my knees. “Yeah, I am.” I put my free hand behind my head. I suddenly didn't feel so heavy. As if having someone acknowledge that the science contest was important enough to be disappointed about had helped me not be so disappointed. And really, it
was
a huge honor even to get to the regional level.

“What'd your parents say?”

“I haven't seen them yet. Dad probably won't say anything.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I don't know … he just doesn't seem to care about what I care about.”

“Hmm … have you told him that?”

I thought for a moment. “I guess not.”

“Well, maybe you should. Give him a chance. You did that for me, and look how well that turned out.”

I supposed he had a point.

“Listen, son. You did a great job on your project. No one else in your school got chosen as a regional finalist.”

“No other sixth graders in the whole state of Washington,” I reminded him.

“Exactly! Plus, you learned how to make something useful out of waste. And, if I remember correctly, you had more questions when you finished than when you started, isn't that right?”

“Right.”

“Well then, as your fellow scientist, I declare your venture into the world of biofuels a verifiable success!”

Talking to Grandpa Ed had helped me feel better about things, but I still had a hard time imagining that Dad would ever see it the way my grandpa did, no matter how much I wanted him to.

A few days before Christmas, Mom and Dad held a party at our house. Khalfani's family had been on the invite list from the beginning. When Mom suggested adding Morgan and her parents, I didn't try to change her mind.

I had told my parents about not winning the national prize, of course. Mom had made a big deal about how winning wasn't the most important thing—it was the experience, what I'd learned, and all that. She was still very proud of me, she said. Dad had pointed out that only one team could win top prize and the odds of that happening for anyone were very slim. I hadn't tried to talk to him any more about it.

“The grandparents here yet?” Dad asked, coming into the dining area, where Mom had arranged a bunch of food on the table. She started to light the candles.

“Can I do it?” I loved using the lighter.

Mom handed it to me. “Dad said they'd be here by four.”

Grandpa Ed was bringing Gladys. They'd been doing more together lately, ever since a recent Sunday dinner when he'd invited her to a movie. “No need for us both to be sitting home alone,” he'd said.

“Speak for yourself. I like being alone.” Gladys had sat up tall and thrust out her chin. “But I'll go. Maybe that pest Bernard will finally leave me alone if he sees you hanging around.”

“I doubt it.” Grandpa Ed had chuckled. “You're a hot item, Gladys. You know that.”

“And you're full of it, Rock Hudson.”

I lit the final candle as Grandpa Ed's truck pulled up outside. I would've recognized that sputtering sound anywhere. I ran to the window. “They're here!” I called.

My jaw dropped. Gladys was getting out on the driver's side! Gladys didn't drive. She was always bragging about being “all bus, all the time.”

“Mom! Dad! Gladys drove Grandpa Ed's truck!”

Dad came up behind me. “God help us all.”

Gladys and Grandpa Ed were laughing and carrying on as if they were best friends.

Mom opened the door. “I see you've decided to take up driving again.”

“I sure have!” Gladys said. She practically hopped up the stairs. “Thanks to Ed here.” She turned and smiled down at him. Then she waved her hands in the air and
did a little dance around the living room. “Get ready, everybody, 'cause here I come!”

“Watch out, everybody, is more like it.” Dad shook his head. “Ed, I thought you were more sensible than that. Don't you know a car can be considered a lethal weapon in a court of law?”

Gladys scowled.

Grandpa Ed appeared at the top of the stairs. “Your mom did just fine. Handled my old truck the way she handles everything—she let it know who was boss right from the start.”

Gladys smiled again. “Thank you, Edwin.”

“Just remember, I warned you,” Dad said.

“Grandpa Ed's a good teacher,” I said, thinking of the time he'd let me drive his truck on a deserted back road this past summer. Mom looked at me funny. “At least when it comes to things like geology and chess,” I added quickly. I'd never told my parents about Grandpa Ed putting me behind the wheel. “So he's probably good at teaching driving, too.”

“You pick out your science kit for winning that contest yet?” Grandpa Ed handed Mom his coat. I had been given a choice of over twenty kits from an online company.

“There's one on genetics and DNA that looks cool. I think I might get that one.”

“We don't need to do any DNA tests to know where
you got your science smarts,” Gladys said, putting her arm around me.

“That's right!” Grandpa Ed said. “Like I've said before, Brendan's a chip off this old rock.” He knocked my shoulder with his fist.

Gladys scoffed. “That may be so, Rock, but it wasn't you I was referring to. My Clem had dreams of being a surgeon one day.”

“He did?” I said, astonished. “Grampa Clem never told me that.”

Dad's forehead creased. “I never heard that, either.”

“You didn't know
everything
about the man.” Gladys looked at Dad over the rims of her pointy glasses; then she turned back to me. “Circumstances beyond his control landed him in X-rays. But your grandpa had a keen scientific mind. So you got it from both sides, Mr. Science Genius!”

The doorbell rang. I went to answer it, still pondering this new information I'd been given about my family tree. Khal and his stepmom were at the door. Khal's dad was helping Dori out of the car.

“Hey, Brendan.” Khal came inside and took off his shoes.

Khal's stepmom held a casserole dish covered in foil.

“Hello, Brendan.”

“Peach cobbler?” I asked, taking the warm bowl in my hands and inhaling the delicious, sweet smell.

“Don't you know it,” she said.

I licked my lips. Mrs. Jones's peach cobbler was
incredible
.

Dori pushed her way inside. “Look at what I got, Brendan!” She held up a brown-skinned doll with three thick braids exactly like hers. The doll wore a red and black dress with white tights and black shoes just like Dori, too. “A My Twinn doll!” She ran up the stairs and started telling Mom about the doll.

Khal rolled his eyes. “She's been wearing that same outfit since her birthday
eight days
ago. I think she's going for a world record.”

“Khalfani Omar,” Mrs. Jones said with a warning tone in her voice. Mr. Jones came in carrying a bag of wrapped gifts. He and Mrs. Jones headed upstairs. Khal and I went down to the rec room to play Nintendo baseball.

A little while later, the doorbell rang again. I heard Mom open the door and greet Morgan and her parents.

Khal made a face. “Of course you'd invite your girlfriend.”

I ran my player around the bases. “My mom invited them.” Khal didn't need to know I'd been glad about it. “You could give her a chance, you know.” Saying that made me think of Grandpa Ed's words to me about Dad. I pushed the thought away.

“Me being friends with the Belcher is about as likely as my sister never bugging me again.”

I glanced up just as Morgan appeared in the doorway.

“Hi, Brendan. Hi, Khalfani.” She came and stood nearby.

I said hi, but I kept my eyes on the TV. What was Morgan to me, anyway?
Was
she my girlfriend? We'd never said anything about being boyfriend and girlfriend. We'd just spent a whole lot of time together, maybe even more than Khal and I had so far this year. Did that make us an official couple?

What about the fact that I looked forward to seeing her at our lockers first thing in the morning, or that I hoped when the phone rang after school that it was her, or that I had started to worry that we wouldn't see each other as much now that the contest was over?

What about the flutters I had in my stomach right then as I looked up and saw her big brown eyes and the cute freckles on her nose and the dimple in her cheek? What about
that
?

I quickly put my eyes back on the game. “Ohh!” I shouted as Khal tagged my runner out at home plate.

“I guess I'll see you upstairs,” Morgan said, turning toward the door.

I glanced up. “Okay,” I said, even though I'd been hoping she would stay to watch me play.

A while later, Dad came in. He started shoveling through boxes in the corner of the room. “Khal, would you believe your dad's not buying that I have a baseball signed by all the Griffeys—Ken Senior, Ken Junior, and
the younger one, Craig, the one who played for the Rainiers?”

Khal jumped up and ran to the corner. “You do?”

“I'm going to get something to eat,” I said, even though Khal wasn't listening and I wasn't actually hungry.

Upstairs, Christmas music played on the stereo. The living room had gotten crowded with all the guests, people I recognized but didn't really know from both Mom's and Dad's workplaces, and some of their friends from the neighborhood. I wound around the small groups of people standing and eating off small paper plates. No Morgan. She wasn't in the dining area or the kitchen, either.