Please Don't Tell My Parents I'm a Supervillain (9 page)

onday I told Mr. Zwelf I’d be submitting The Machine for my science fair entry. He gave me the bad news immediately.

“It’s an impressive invention, but it’s not going to get you a good grade, Penelope,” he told me as The Machine wiggled around in his hands.

“Are you kidding? I built a robot that takes voice commands and has no identifiable power source. Forget a middle-school science fair, my Dad can’t reproduce it or even figure out how it works. It’s as Science as it gets!” I shouldn’t have sounded peeved, because Mr. Zwelf’s was a good guy and I knew this was coming, but what was wrong with the world if I didn’t get an A for something like this?

He explained to me what’s wrong with the world. “Building something new, no matter how brilliant, isn’t the same as science. Did you have a hypothesis when you made it? What were you testing?”

“I just made it. I was trying to find a way to recycle equipment better,” I answered, trying not to glare.

“What process does it use?” he asked. I was fighting a losing battle, and it gnawed like acid in my stomach, but at least he really was impressed. He couldn’t take his eyes off The Machine and kept trying to spread its joints to see how they connected.

If only he hadn’t asked that exact question. “I don’t know. I knew when I made it, but then I forgot,” was the best answer I could give him.

Now he looked pained, and his voice got slow. Here came the bad news. “Penelope, I can’t guarantee the other judges will believe you made this yourself.”

I didn’t say anything. My expression must have said volumes.

“As amazing as this invention is, I recommend you turn in a traditional project. You deserve better, but you’ll be lucky to get a D if you present this,” he concluded.

I took a deep breath. I’d known I might hear most of this. It still stung, but I’d made up my mind. “Thank you, Mr. Zwelf, but I’m going to go ahead. I know I’m getting an A in the rest of the class, and I can swallow an F on the science fair project if that happens. I’m proud of my Machine, and it’s more important to me to show what I can do than to get a good grade for it.”

“I understand,” he acknowledged, dropping The Machine back into my hands.

I knew how to soothe my considerable rancor. As soon as the school bell rang, I ran down the stairs and past the shop room to the second entrance to my new laboratory (there were four!). On Saturday, I’d picked up a book from a hardware store about electrical wiring. I had all these pieces of high-tech shop equipment The Machine had salvaged for me, if only I could plug them in!

I’d opened up the book in terror, expecting to have to splice wires, grade them by voltage, hook them up in careful order to hard-to -identify terminals, and make decisions based on amperage. My jaw almost dropped at how simple it was. One of the devices The Machine had spat back up was a volt reader, so I didn’t even need to buy one. I dumped the contents of my Pumpkin jar on a few grounded outlets and rubber gloves for safety, and that might be all I needed.

So, now, as I heard the door open and close, I was on my knees, using one of The Machine’s jaws as a screwdriver to twist a screw drown and lock the power wires into place.

“Don’t touch any switches!” I yelled back.

“Why are you working with just a flashlight?” Ray’s voice asked.

“Circuit breakers,” I answered. I gave the outlet a tug. Felt secure. I twisted the screws that fastened it into the wall. “Okay, flip them back on!”

Ray ran down to the circuit breaker box open and exposed at the far end of the lab. Whoever’d taken out Baron Overlord had ripped out his machinery and the power outlets they were attached to, but left the wiring in the walls intact. I was sitting pretty. I should be sitting pretty. We were about to find out.

He flipped the switches, the ceiling lights turned on, and my outlet failed to burst into flame. I stuck the volt meter sensors into the holes. 121 volts. Success!

I jumped to my feet, slapped The Machine back onto my wrist, and dragged over the metal press. I’d never used one while I was completely conscious, but the idea seemed simple enough. I plugged it into the socket, grabbed a copper rod from the pile of raw materials, stuck it into the gap, and pulled the lever. Thunk. Clank! Half a copper rod hit the floor.

I slapped my palm against Ray’s. “YES! It works just like it says in the book. It’s even easier than it looks!”

He grabbed a traditional screwdriver, then walked back over to the circuit breaker box. “We need more light. I’ll turn off one breaker, and you can find which outlets that makes safe.”

The elevator whirred, and a few seconds later the gates opened and Claire stepped in. “You look like you’re in a good mood,” she told me immediately.

I gave a little shrug. “Mr. Zwelf told me to expect an F if I use The Machine as my science fair project. I can’t dress it up to look like an experiment. I’m gonna do it anyway.”

Ray winced.

“Ow,” Claire echoed.

“Don’t worry. I’m fine, because I did this during Art. Watch!” I unzipped my backpack and pulled out my box of pencils, paperclips, and random stationary crud. I only used them once in a blue moon, but I hated not having a thumbtack when I needed one. You could do a lot with a thumbtack.

Don’t think about it.
I reached in, picked up two thumbtacks, and used the jaws of The Machine to crimp them together. Then I put them down on the floor, sticking off from each other at an angle, and spun them.

They kept spinning, whirling around in a blur without falling down or sliding away.

“What did you just do?” Claire asked, crouching down to squint at it.

“I built a simple gyroscope. I think. I don’t know!” I threw up my hands and started to giggle.

Ray knew why I was laughing. “But you meant to do it!” He looked around. “We have to get this place fixed up fast. You’re going to need tools before the week is over.”

“I controlled my power for less than ten seconds, Ray. We’ve still got a few weeks,” I corrected him. A few weeks. Oh, man! Let it be that soon!

Claire, smarter than either Ray or me sometimes, announced, “These wires over here have no power.”

I knelt down between the two of them and walked them through the process of securing the hot, neutral, and ground wires, and wonder of wonders both outlets had screw holes to fasten into place. We all flinched as Ray flipped the breaker back on, but my laboratory again failed to erupt in flames. It must be a mad scientist record.

Not that I was a mad scientist. I just felt very giggly as we plugged in my dad’s water knife table and flipped the switch. I could barely hear the hissing as the stream of water shot from overhead pump into the hole in the workbench.

“What is that?” Claire asked, doubt creeping into her voice.

“You’ve never seen a water knife?” I asked. I just had to keep the grin off my face as I picked up a shiny iron pipe from the pile of parts The Machine left me with, and waved it through the stream of water. I didn’t even feel the resistance as the knife sliced it in two, but Claire let out a squeak of shock when the other half fell onto the work table with a clonk, rolled off the end, and fell to the floor with a louder clonk.

“That was amazing. You’ll be able to build anything with this kind of equipment,” Claire wheezed, leaning against the wall as she calmed down.

I flipped off the water knife. As cool as it was, it also scared the dickens out of me.

“We should make plans. Don’t you want to be the girl with her own sentient supercomputer in the middle of your base?” Ray suggested.

They were both so excited! I hated to break it to them. I nudged a heating coil from what had been a microchip press with my foot. “I’m a long way from building a traditional supercomputer. The Machine is awesome, but it’s not good at anything but raw materials and repairing clean breaks. Most of the stuff we brought back it spat up in bits. I’ve got the tools for simple metal shaping and macro electronics work, but my superpower’s going to be working crippled until it builds me better machine tools. If I can get it to build me better machine tools. All the cool big machines will require custom shaped metal parts. I really need a miniature smelter with adjustable molds for casting. I’ve almost got the parts for one.” Like that heating coil I’d just kicked over. I’d still need—

Stop thinking, Penny!

Ray caught me before I hit the floor. That was so sweet. My own prince charming, my hero. Sure, he wasn’t strong enough to hold me, but, when he landed on his butt, neither of us took much of an impact. Lying in his lap with his arms around me was what counted.

What was that thing in front of me? Had I fed The Machine? So many tubes and domes.

That was my metal caster. I put metal into the bin at the top and worked those levers to adjust the prefabricated forms for the molds. With its help, I could make better molds. The whole thing was modular.

“I have to try it out. I don’t want to forget how the controls work!” I gasped. I was still panting for breath, and sticky with sweat. Ugh. My legs wobbled. They wanted to rest a minute before I stood up again.

“I don’t think we have time, Penny. Our folks are going to get worried if we don’t get home before it’s fully dark,” Claire corrected me. She still sounded nervous. Or maybe excited.