“Sure, a telescope would be nice,” Mom said. “Maybe if we had a little more money to spare we could look into buying a used one.”
Or maybe she could borrow one from the astronomy club if she got elected, I thought. Heck, maybe she could borrow one for me too so that I could spy on that new kid across the street. Every morning he looked taller. He seemed to grow an inch a day. Mom said he was probably going through a growth spurt. How come these growth spurts didn’t happen to me? I wondered where I could pick one up. Too bad they didn’t sell them at the store. I sure hoped that kid used up his growth spurt before next fall, or he’d probably take the spot I was trying out for on the basketball team. I was sure that there had to be more to it than a growth spurt though. I bet that kid did some sort of weird exercises at night or had some sort of medieval stretching machine in his attic. I’d find out soon enough if I had a telescope.
Mom moved her hands to measure a different section of the sky.
She was as excited about the astronomy club as I was about fishing or video games. I guess everyone likes something different. I once heard that Becky, the shy kid in my class, has a really weird mother. She likes to collect paper clips. I mean, how many different kinds of paper clips can there be? Wouldn’t you get totally bored after a while? I guess you could make a paper-clip fishing pole or a paper-clip leash. It would be a pretty weak leash though. It would probably do for a hamster or something, but I don’t remember seeing too many hamsters with leashes. Maybe I could add that to my invention list. Then there’s Jake’s mom. She likes to collect garbage. Well, not all garbage. Just the kind that you can make art with, like foam trays and old cans. I caught her going through our recycling box twice last year.
I shook my head as I imagined Becky’s mom and her paper-clip necklace and Jake’s mom and her garbage art. Nope, having a mom who was interested in the stars was a whole lot better than having one who was fascinated by that other weird stuff.
I decided to tell Mom about my speech topic. I was right in the middle of describing things that weren’t there when a giant pine cone hit me smack in the middle of my forehead. Maybe it was reminding me not to think too hard.
I looked up at the pine tree way above my head.
“Gravity,” Mom said, laughing. “It’s an unseen force.”
“Things that aren’t there!” we both said at once.
I nodded again and looked at the stars. I stretched my hand out in front of me and squinted. Maybe this astronomy thing wasn’t so bad after all. I’d found another idea for my speech. Plus I’d learned a new trick of measuring. I wondered how many fingers wide Tiffany’s brain was. I didn’t think there could be anything that small. Maybe an atom. But it wasn’t there. Or was it?
Chapter Eight
I didn’t think about my speech again until Sunday. Sometimes chores, like returning video games or finding baseball gloves, get in the way of real life. By the time I’d conquered the last level in the new game I rented on Sunday afternoon, it was time to go fishing. Sam and I had decided to go fishing on Sunday instead of Monday this week. Sam thought I should use Monday and Tuesday nights to practice my speech, since I’d be giving it on Wednesday. Like I said, he always looks out for me. What a guy.
The problem was, I couldn’t very well practice something that wasn’t there. I still had only two lines to my speech. So far my speech was a thing that wasn’t there. Somehow I didn’t think Miss Steane would appreciate the joke.
“I saw this guy on tv who said he could see people’s auras,” Sam said as we settled down on the bank of the creek.
I dumped my half of the worms into my shoe this time and gave Sam the carton. “You mean like the aurora borealis?” I asked. I knew that was a fancy name for the northern lights. Mom’s astronomy lectures were beginning to rub off on me.
“No,” Sam corrected. “Every living thing is supposed to have this energy that surrounds it. Some people claim they can see it around people’s bodies like shimmering lights and colors. You kind of have to squint to see it. You can’t prove it’s there or it’s not there. It’s really quite interesting.”
Sam saw me yawn. “I guess you have to have an open mind,” he apologized.
My mind was open—wide open. Ideas just flew right out of it before they had a chance to stick.
We spent the next ten minutes squinting at the trees across the stream to see if we could see their auras. I saw an old blue kite stuck in the top of the trees. I saw the squirrels racing across the branches. Mainly what I saw was a bunch of ants trying to find something to eat.
That reminded me of the party on Wednesday. “Mom’s punch is going to score some points with the Lamp’s mother,” I told Sam. “I even like it, even though it’s good for me, so I can just imagine what she’s going to think.”
“Do you want some help making it?” Sam asked.
Normally I would let someone else do the work, but I wanted to handle this one on my own. Besides, it was straightforward. I knew the recipe was for eight people. There were twenty-four of us in the class, so Sam told me I would just have to multiply it by three. I was sure most of the ingredients were already at home. Even I couldn’t possibly mess this one up.
Even though I’m not great at multiplying, I am pretty good at subtracting. I don’t know why. I guess it’s because I’m used to counting down the days until summer vacation or Christmas holidays. I had three nights to finish and practice my speech. Take one night away because of the baseball game on tv tonight. That left two nights. If I forced myself, I could probably manage to write two lines a night. Two nights, two lines each. Four lines. Hmmm. I doubted I could win the trophy with that.
Then I remembered the two lines I had already written. That would make six lines altogether. Six whole lines. Yep, I felt a lot better after that. A whole lot better. So good, in fact, that I almost forgot about my dentist appointment the next morning. Almost.
Chapter Nine
I don’t know why I hate the dentist so much. It’s not that I can’t take the pain of the needle or drill, because I really am the toughest guy on the baseball team. I don’t back down from anyone, not even the mean pitcher on the Wildcat team, who has to be at least eight feet tall. Last year I even played one game with a sprained ankle. We won.
It’s just that when you’re at the dentist’s, you don’t know what’s in store for you. At least when you have a cavity you know what you’re in for. It’s the checkups I hate. You never know what’s going to happen at a checkup. They could say, “Everything looks great. Good work.” At least that’s what they say in my dreams. I don’t hear those words too much in real life.
With me it’s usually silence and then someone says, “Tsk, tsk.” They scribble something down on their charts and say, “We’ll have to take care of that.” That’s a nice way of saying, “We’ll have to stick a needle in your mouth and drill half your tooth away.”
It’s not knowing if those stupid little cavities are there or not that bugs me. I wish I knew before I went into the office. I guess they’re sort of like the stuff on my speech list. Are they there or aren’t they? This time I was pretty sure they would come under the category “Things That Are There.”
I don’t like the look of the dentist office. I don’t even like the way it smells—like cleaning fluid or vinegar. And I really don’t like the dentist’s hands. Why do dentists always seem to have fat fingers? I guess it’s so they can grab the giant needle and gigantic drill better.
Dr. Plain—or Dr. Pain, as I call him—gave my teeth one final pick and took his big hand out of my mouth.
There was silence. I listened to myself breathing.
“Tsk, tsk,” he said. “It’s just a small cavity, but we’ll have to take care of that.”
How did I know he was going to say that?
I must have looked at him like a caged animal because he patted me on the shoulder and said, “How about we do that right now?”
Good old Dr. Pain. He knows I don’t li
ke to think about coming to the dentist. He knows I’d rather just get it over with right then and there. Besides, like I said, it’s not the actual filling that I hate. It’s the checkups.
“We’ll just do a quick X-ray to make sure everything else is okay,” he said.
I thought about an X-ray as he put some cardboard wedges in my mouth. I was pretty sure they might be things that weren’t there, so I asked Dr. Pain.
“X-rays are a type of radiation, just like light,” he explained. “Our eyes can see normal light, but we can’t see the shorter wavelength of X-rays. We use X-rays to make these films, and then we can see if you have any more hidden cavities.”
Great. Just what I needed. I didn’t really want to find out if I had any more cavities. Besides, I had kind of already guessed that I had one today. It must have been that ESP thing. ESP was another thing that either might or might not be there. I knew that ESP meant that you knew something was going to happen before it happened. I remembered once when I had known what hockey card was on top of the pack before I even opened it. It might have been a good guess. Maybe not though. And today I had known that I was going to have a cavity before I even got to the office. I guess the way my tooth had been aching for a month might have given it away.
I had way too many ideas swirling around my head. It was bad enough being upside down in that chair, let alone having to think about ideas for my speech. Two bad things in one day. The dentist and schoolwork. Two bad things too many. Do bad things come in threes?
Dr. Pain came back into the room. I squinted my eyes to try and see his aura. Sam had said that blue was the color of peace and calm. I could have used some peace and calm right then. Maybe if I concentrated hard enough he’d be blue. I squinted harder. The only good thing about the squinting business was that it made it a lot harder to see the needle.
Chapter Ten
My mouth was still numb when I got back to school after lunch. My mind pretty much went numb too when I started listening to Tiffany’s speech.
“Etiquette describes the way we should interact with each other. It’s all about politeness,” Tiffany began. “Did you know that you should wait to start eating until your host unfolds her napkin and puts it on her lap? That you should only blot your mouth gently with your napkin and then put it back immediately? Nobody likes a messy eater,” she said, looking at me.
Blah, blah, blah, I thought as I drew a fish on my hand. The Lamp was the last one to speak today, but definitely the most boring. One guy talked about helicopters and one girl babbled on about her baby sister. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. Luckily I’m good at tuning out annoying noise. I just pretend I’m in my video game battling the dragons in their supersonic jets.
After what seemed to be about a week, she finished. “Sometimes etiquette just can’t be learned,” she said, glaring at me. “Sometimes people are just too rude to listen.”
The class clapped politely. I yawned. My hands were sore from all that writing the night before.
“See—everyone liked my speech,” Tiffany said as she pushed past me on the way out of the school. “Please and thank you go a long way. You should learn what they mean.”
“You’re right,” I said. “Would you please excuse me while I go and throw up? Thank you.”
It’s hard to be nice to Tiffany. My brain tells me to try, but sometimes my mouth just says what it wants to. It’s like my mouth is its own boss. I’m kind of proud of that. I mean, when it comes right down to it, sometimes a big mouth comes in more handy than a big brain. You couldn’t just use your brain to yell at your teammate to steal second when the catcher suddenly fumbles the ball. And what about if we were attacked by giant tarantulas? Your mouth would sure come in handy when you were screaming for help.
That night I added two more lines to my speech. It now had four lines.
Miss Steane, honorable judges, and fellow classmates,
Do you ever wonder if something is really there?
Like how a dog can hear a really high whistle?
We don’t think that whistle’s there, but it really is.
I was sweating. Writing was such hard work. I had two more lines though. I was really proud of myself now.
I didn’t sleep much that night because I kept thinking about black holes and wormholes. Sam had said something about a wormhole being like a secret passageway out there in the universe. Things could sort of move through space and time all at once. Wouldn’t that make it quicker for ufos to get to us?
I put my head under the pillow. Some things are just better left unthought.
Chapter Eleven
On Tuesday morning the speeches continued. Most of them were pretty boring—famous authors and not-so-famous explorers—but at least they passed the time so that we didn’t have to do real work like math.
Sam gave his speech on medieval times in the afternoon. It was pretty good except for the sentences he repeated three times. I guess he was pretty excited.
He brought in some props, like this catapult that he made. You could launch real stones with it and throw them right across the room. I wished he’d launch one at the fire alarm so that we could get out of school early.
Everybody clapped after Sam’s speech. I did too. My hands weren’t as sore as they had been the day before after Tiffany’s speech. It’s funny how they have a mind of their own too.
Becky did her speech next. It was about ventriloquism. She even brought in a real dummy that she had borrowed from her uncle. The only problem was she got so nervous that she forgot to move the dummy’s mouth. A talking dummy who doesn’t talk kind of misses the point.
I felt sorry for Becky. It looked like she was going to start crying. Tiffany rolled her eyes at her and turned the other way. I gave Becky the thumbs-up and clapped really hard. I don’t know why some people get so nervous about giving a speech. Then again, I guess having Tiffany rolling her eyes at you from the front row would give anyone the creeps.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Sam asked as we headed home after school.
“Sure,” I lied. “The speech will be easy.”
“What about the punch?” Sam was always worrying about me. I guess he needed someone to worry about besides himself. I didn’t mind helping him out with that.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I’ve got everything I need.”
I hoped everything I needed was in the kitchen cupboards, which are full of organic this and organic that. Mom was out at another astronomy meeting. That was good because I wanted to surprise her by making the punch myself. I looked at the recipe.
Organic Smoothie Delight
1 cup organic grape juice
2 cups organic cranberry juice
1 cup organic orange juice
2 cups organic iced tea
3 tsp organic honey
2 tsp organic flaxseed oil
½ cup organic soy milk
I did some quick calculations in my head. Sam had said that I needed to multiply everything by three to make enough for the class. Something didn’t seem to add up though. I definitely didn’t have all the ingredients.
I decided to go down to the grocery store on the corner and get what I needed. I counted out some of my paper route money that I’d been saving for a new video game. I hated to let it go, but it was worth it. I could just see the look on Mom’s face when Mrs. Wilson raved about how good the punch was. She would be so happy. She could thank me later. I had just enough money left over for a gigantic bottle of root beer. Root beer helps me think. I like to see how many thoughts I can think before I burp. I knew I’d need help thinking if I was going to work on my speech that night.
On the way out of the store, I ran into Mrs. Wilson. It must have been ESP again because I had just been thinking about her. When I say “ran into her,” I really mean “ran into her.” She knocked me right over. Her purse fell on the ground and everything spilled out. I scrambled to my feet and began to pick up her things.
“Hmpf,” she snorted, look
ing down at me like I was a pesky mosquito or an annoying fly. “Watch where you’re going next time, Anison.”
I didn’t bother correcting her. I figured not getting my name right ran in the family.
“Sorry, Mrs. Wilson.” I handed her purse back to her. “That’s a real nice wallet you’ve got there.”
Mrs. Wilson snorted again.
“It’s sort of like my Mom’s wallet,” I continued. “She’s got an extra-nice one to keep her grocery money in. She needs it with all her fancy recipes and stuff.”
Mrs. Wilson snorted one more time and left. I guess compliments didn’t work with her kind. The punch would have to speak for itself.
When I got home I put the punch ingredients out on the table. I measured and I mixed. I mixed and I measured. I must have made extra-strong iced tea, because the punch looked darker than Mom’s. It sure looked tasty though. If I hadn’t had to finish my root beer so I could burp, I would have had a glass of it. I gave it one final stir. At last my masterpiece was done. Now I had to finish my speech.
I thought and I wrote. I wrote and I thought. Before I went to bed that night I added two more lines to my speech. I now had six lines. That would have to do.
Miss Steane, honorable judges, and fellow classmates, Do you ever wonder if something is really there? Like how a dog can hear a really high whistle? We don’t think that whistle’s there, but it really is. Black holes, wormholes, atoms and ghosts. With an open mind, you can see the most.
I especially liked that rhyming bit. That would prove to Miss Steane that I’d been listening to the poetry stuff we’d learned earlier in the year. I’d saved it till now to show her just how good I was. If I didn’t win the speech contest, maybe I could enter the poetry contest next year.
Addison Addley and the Things That Aren't There Page 3