Some Penguin Problems

by Dr. Kate Biberdorf

  “Exactly right, Kate.” Mrs. Eberlin gazed around the room. “Okay, so I’m choosing some new volunteers.” She pointed to Avery, then to Skyler Rumsky, who loped up front with his long strides. Then to Memito and me.

  I yelped. “Wow-weee!” Then I raced up to Mrs. Eberlin’s desk. “What are we going to be testing?” I asked. When scientists test things, they always need to do it in a very systematic way. That just means it can’t be all hodgepodge. My grandma Dort in Texas uses that word. Hodgepodge means a big mess.

  Mrs. Eberlin brought out four beverages. “Okay, here’s what you’ll be testing!” She pulled out a bottle of lemonade, a Coke, a Snapple raspberry tea, a bottled water, and four flasks. Then she prepared each flask with one of the drinks.

  Avery dipped the pH paper into the flask with the lemonade.

  It turned red.

  “What do you think that means?” Mrs. Eberlin asked.

  Pretty much everyone said it was an acid. Then I mentally noted that acid meant red.

  Next Skyler tested the Coke. It also turned red.

  Memito picked the tea. More red.

  “Is everything an acid?” asked Memito.

  “Let’s test the water and find out.” I dipped my paper, and it turned blue. “That means this bottled water is basic.”

  “Exactly!” said Mrs. Eberlin. “Great job, everyone.” Then she shooed us back to our seats. “So let’s take a look at our results. The first three drinks turned the litmus paper red, but the bottled water turned the paper blue. Now, we already know that red means acid and blue means base, but each of these colors can also be represented by a number on something called the pH scale. On the pH scale, 1 is very acidic and 14 is very basic. Anything over 7 is considered basic.” On the board, she circled 8.1. “So that number means . . .”

  “Something that is just sort of basic,” said Elijah.

  “Man, that kind of sounds like an insult,” said Memito. He waved his fingers at Elijah. “You’re basic and boring.” He yawned.

  “Ha-ha,” said Elijah.

  Next Mrs. Eberlin asked for one more volunteer to help with the final step. Everyone wanted to do it. But Julia got to go up. She said she hoped that she didn’t mess anything up. Mrs. Eberlin and a bunch of kids assured Julia that she would do a great job.

  When Julia got to the front of the room, Mrs. Eberlin instructed her to put the three capsules in the water so we could see what needed the 8.1 in order to survive. That meant something that would do well in water that was slightly more basic than acidic.

  “You ready?” asked Mrs. Eberlin.

  “I hope so,” said Julia uncertainly. “Should I count to ten first?”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Mrs. Eberlin.

  “I bet something is going to explode,” said Jeremy. “You better step back. Remember that baking soda experiment?”

  “Or it could—poof—disappear like a magic trick,” said Phoenix in a dreamy voice.

  “Or make a lovely rainbow,” suggested Birdie.

  Julia counted backward from ten and then carefully dropped the capsules in the flask of water. Everyone anxiously leaned forward.

  “Nothing’s happening,” moaned Memito.

  “You guys, be patient,” I said. “It’s science.”

  While we were waiting, Mrs. Eberlin said she was going to hand out a code that would also help us solve the mystery.

  She passed out a sheet of paper.

  It said: dehs ot gniog.

  “Maybe it’s in another language,” said Julia.

  “Is it in Portuguese?” asked Phoenix. After all, our teacher grew up in Brazil.

  “Nope,” said Mrs. Eberlin. “Portuguese is a Latin-based language, so it looks a lot like Spanish, Italian, and French.”

  “Wait a minute,” Phoenix said. “You just said Latin. Maybe it’s in Pig Latin.”

  “No, with that you move the consonant from the beginning of the word to the end of the word and add ay,” I said. Dad taught us all Pig Latin just a few months ago. “So Pig Latin in Pig Latin is ig-pay atin-lay.”

  “Hmm.” Elijah flipped the sheet around. He shook his head. “Reading it upside down doesn’t help.”

  “But you’re onto something,” said Mrs. Eberlin.

  “Wait! Because it’s backward!” cried Elijah. “Dehs ot gniog means . . . going to shed.”

  “What?” asked Memito. “We’re going to a shed?”

  “There are lots of kinds of storage sheds,” I mused. “Maybe it’s a factory.”

  “Or a garden. That would be great,” gushed Phoenix.

  “I wish it was a shed for something awesome like an airplane or a spaceship,” said Elijah. “Maybe we’re going to the Air Zoo Aerospace & Science Museum in Kalamazoo?”

  “Well, keep on thinking about it,” said Mrs. Eberlin. “Time to look back at those capsules.”

  This time the entire class crowded around our teacher’s desk. I inched my way to the front.

  “Tell me what you see,” said Mrs. Eberlin. “You can also touch the capsules.”

  All at once, kids pushed to get closer. “One at a time,” cautioned Mrs. Eberlin.

  The red, green, and blue capsules had floated to the top. Now they were bigger and puffy and sort of shapeless.

  Mrs. Eberlin used some tweezers to pull the blue and green ones out of the flask. When it was my turn, I tentatively reached out to touch the blue one. “It’s sticky.”

  “I think there might be some sort of film on it,” added Julia, who poked the green one with her thumb. She made a face.

  Next Jeremy prodded the red capsule with the tweezers. It moved around the flask and puffed out even more.

  “Look! It’s turned into a different shape,” I said.

  “Hey, those look like those magic grow-a-pet thingies!” shouted Elijah. “When I was little, I had dinosaur ones.”

  “That’s excellent sleuthing, Elijah,” said Mrs. Eberlin, and the competitive part of me was just a smidge jealous. But mostly I was happy for my friend.

  She put the green and blue capsules back into the flask and gave it a gentle swirl. Another minute later, the capsules looked like little sponges, but in three brand-new shapes. They were still too small to use as actual sponges to clean anything though.

  With the tweezers, Mrs. Eberlin dramatically flicked them out of the flask one by one.

  “That’s a sea turtle!” Phoenix yelled, pointing at the green sponge.

  “And the red one is a crab,” added Julia. “Or maybe a lobster.”

  “Yes! A turtle and a crab,” Mrs. Eberlin confirmed with a big smile.

  “What’s the blue one?” I wondered out loud.

  “A dolphin?” guessed Birdie as our teacher used the tweezers to unravel the blue sponge.

  “It’s a hammerhead shark!” screamed Jeremy. It was dead silent for a second before our classroom erupted in chatter.

  “Are we going to Lake Michigan?” guessed Skyler.

  “No,” said Birdie. “That makes no sense. There aren’t sharks in Lake Michigan.”

  “Or sheds,” I said. “Remember that backward clue.”

  “Lifeguards use sheds,” defended Jeremy, and he gave Skyler a high five. Only he had to stand on his tiptoes since Skyler was so tall. “I bet we’re going to the ocean.”

  “That would be too long of a bus trip,” said Julia. “My parents would never let me go.”

  “We’re definitely not going to the ocean,” said Avery, rolling her eyes.

  Suddenly, Birdie’s eyes lit up. “I figured it out,” she announced. “We’re going to the aquarium.”

  “But why the shed?” asked Avery. “That seriously doesn’t make sense.”

  And then all at once, I got it. “It does if we’re going to the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago!” I cried.
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  “That’s right,” said Mrs. Eberlin. “It’s called the Shedd because it’s named after the founder, John G. Shedd. He was the president of the Marshall Field’s department store in Chicago, and he gave the money to start the aquarium.”

  That aquarium is so awesome. It’s got dolphins. And jellyfish. Sharks. And most of all, rockhopper penguins, my favorite animal ever. They hop everywhere, make nests out of pebbles, and have the cutest little yellow feathers on their heads. Everyone started talking all at once.

  Birdie and I were jumping up and down as Mrs. Eberlin handed out permission slips. She announced that in order for us to go on the field trip, she needed to have four parent volunteers from our class. “The field trip is going to be on Friday, January 28. So, a little over two weeks from now.”

  Wow. The field trip was happening soon. Today was Thursday, January 13. Not far away at all.

  If only I had a time machine so that we could go to the aquarium tomorrow.

  Oh well.

  Looked like I’d just have to wait the regular way, along with everyone else.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  What If?

  Sedimentation (noun). This is the process of separating heavier matter from a solution in, say, a flask or beaker. But it works outside beakers too! Like how sand can be carried by a river and then deposited on its banks to make a perfect little beach. So every time you see a beach, you can thank sedimentation!

  “THE AQUARIUM MIGHT BE the best field trip ever,” I said to my friends during lunch at our usual table. It was the day after we had found out that we were going to Chicago. The cafeteria was noisy because it was Friday, when everyone got rowdy. Kids were chatting and laughing.

  “When it comes to field trips, we’ve paid our dues,” said Avery as she crunched into an apple.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” asked Phoenix. Since she was her best friend, she didn’t mean to directly challenge her—it was more like she was asking for clarification.

  “We’re in fifth grade,” replied Avery, sounding wary and like her typical dramatic self. “So we’ve earned the right to go someplace marvelous.”

  “Yeah, not like that sewage treatment plant in fourth grade,” said Memito, who took the last chomp of a celery stick dipped in hummus. “Remember that place?” He mock shivered. “If the aquarium is going to be stinky, at least it will have cool fish swimming around in it.”

  “Hey, I liked that water treatment place,” I said. “And there were organisms there. They were just microscopic. Plus, all of those giant sedimentation tanks were so cool! Remember how gravity pulled particles to the bottom?”

  “Ah, not really.” Memito plugged his nose. “But I sure remember the stinky part.”

  “Well, I, for one, am certainly glad my dad is coming on the aquarium field trip,” said Avery. “He adores taking photos. And there will be a lot more to see than sludge.”

  Avery’s dad was the first parent to sign up as a chaperone for the field trip. She had told us the good news this morning, and Mrs. Eberlin had looked super pleased. Her dad, who designs the posters for the local theater that he helps run, is like a semi-professional photographer. He always takes incredible shots whenever he goes on field trips.

  “That’s awesome your dad will take photos,” said Birdie. “Maybe I can use them to make some paintings of the jellies!”

  “Whoa, you’re talking about the trip like it’s a done deal,” said Memito. “But it’s not. Let’s be real.”

  “Yeah,” said Phoenix. “Mrs. Eberlin said we need at least four chaperones. So far, nobody else’s parents have said they’re going.”

  “Yet,” said Elijah.

  “But if nobody else steps up to the plate, we’re doomed.” Memito sighed heavily.

  “My parents are busy,” said Birdie.

  Everyone else said pretty much the same thing. Except for Elijah. “I still need to ask,” he admitted, sounding hopeful. “How about you, Kate?”

  “Me?” I almost swallowed my carrot stick whole. “Yesterday, I had indoor soccer late, so I didn’t get a chance to ask either.” I was shocked that he even asked. And everyone knew exactly why.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Parent Problem

  Gas (noun). A gas has no fixed shape or volume. But when a gaseous state is under pressure, you sure will know. When you shake up a soda bottle and pop open the lid, tons of gas molecules fly into the atmosphere. Then they spread out quickly like first graders who have just been let outside for recess.

  NOBODY WANTS MY MOM to go on a field trip.

  She’s the principal. Plus, our school is too small to have an assistant principal. So someone has to run the school. Since my little brother is a lot younger, my dad has always needed to be home to pick him up from preschool and watch him after that. So he couldn’t go on field trips either.

  But this year is different. Liam is in full-time kindergarten so there’s no reason my dad couldn’t do it. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about it.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t ask,” I said, starting to feel guilty.

  “Well, your dad is fine. But whatever you do, just don’t ask your mom,” said Jeremy.

  “Otherwise, we won’t be able to have fun,” added Memito. “No paper airplanes on the bus.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t worry,” I said in a defensive voice. I wouldn’t ask her because she couldn’t come anyway.

  “I’ll ask my dad,” I said in my most upbeat voice. “I bet he can do it! He used to go on field trips with Liam’s preschool class all the time. I’m sure we’ll find enough chaperones. I mean, really, has a trip ever been canceled because of not getting enough chaperones anyway?”

  “Yup,” said Tala Campo, plopping down at the end of the table. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “But I had a dentist appointment.” Tala was new at school, but she was already one of my good friends. She moved to Michigan from California in early December and was in Mrs. Que’s fifth-grade class. She’s in the chemistry club with all of us.

  “At my old school,” explained Tala, “we had a trip canceled to Gold Rush country outside of Sacramento because we didn’t have enough chaperones. We couldn’t even reschedule it. I was so sad, because you get to dress up in old-fashioned clothes and pan for real gold. They tried to make us feel better by a having field trip to the bowling alley and saying it had math applications. But it wasn’t the same. So yeah, it can happen.”

  “Well, maybe in California,” stated Elijah. “But not here at Rosalind Franklin Elementary in Michigan.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll figure it out.” I held up my hand. “Scout’s honor.” I wasn’t a Girl Scout now, but I used to be, so I figured the honor oath still held.

  “Kate’s right,” said Birdie. “It will be fine.”

  “Well, I really want to see tiger sharks,” said Memito. He popped a chip into his mouth. “Those dudes will sink their teeth into anything in the water. In their stomachs, fishermen have found license plates, money, cameras. Seriously, they’ll eat anything.”

  “Including you,” said Elijah, grinning. “If you lean into the tank too far.”

  “Nope.” Memito waved his spoon in the air like he was stirring an imaginary kettle. “I’d eat those bad boys first. Make myself shark stew with plum tomatoes, cilantro, and onions. Mmm.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that.” Phoenix puckered her face. She’s been a vegetarian since second grade. “About cooking a shark.”

  “I can,” I said. “Memito eats everything! I really want to see the penguins. They have rockhoppers. My favorite.” I smiled just thinking about them.

  “Oh, I saw them at the Shedd,” said Tala in an excited voice. “They have these little bright yellow feathers on the top of their heads. They’re so cute.”

  “You’ve already been?” I asked, clearly surprised
since she moved to the Midwest about a month and a half ago.

  “Yeah,” said Tala, who opened up her thermos full of hot soup. A burst of steam shot out. I wasn’t completely sure why it did that. Hmm, I’d have to look that up later.

  “We went to the Shedd after we were all unpacked after moving here in December,” continued Tala. “My family is big into science museums and places like aquariums. Guess what T-shirt I got there?”

  “A seahorse,” guessed Elijah.

  Tala shook her head. And I realized I had no idea since I hadn’t known Tala that long. Plus, it was way too cold to be wearing T-shirts in January.

  “Hey, I know what shirt you got,” said Birdie with a smile. “A starfish. Since you’re into astronomy.”

  “Yes! Only they’re officially called sea stars ’cause they’re not actually fish,” Tala explained.

  “When I went, I got the—” started Memito.

  “The shark T-shirt,” I completed. “We know because we’ve seen it a bajillion times.”

  “Yeah,” said Memito. “But I also want to get an octopus T-shirt. ’Cause those things are cool. I just wish I had eight arms. I could cook a meal, do my homework, and wash my hair at the same time.”

  “I have an octopus T-shirt,” said Avery.

  “It’s so soft,” said Phoenix. “It’s my favorite shirt to borrow when we have impromptu sleepovers.”

  Elijah drummed his hands on the table. “And I’ve got a beluga whale one.”

  “Oh, and Birdie, you have that jelly T-shirt with seaweed,” I said.

  “Yeah, I love that shirt,” said Birdie. “I got it when my cousins from Boston came to town and we went to the aquarium together.”

  “Hey, I have an idea!” said Avery. “We should all wear our T-shirts to the aquarium.”

  “That’s an awesome idea,” said Tala, and everyone nodded.

  Everyone except for me, that is. Our family hasn’t been to the aquarium in five years. Not since my little brother, Liam, was born. I got a stuffed animal penguin at the time, which was great, and a T-shirt. I’ve way outgrown it. I have a teddy bear that wears it now.