Solids, Liquids, Guess Who's Got Gas?

by Michelle Houts

  “Are you girls getting excited about the Harvest Festival?” Mom asks as she passes the salad.

  “Oh, yes!” Cora says. “Except, this year, I’m having trouble thinking of a costume.”

  “That’s not like you, Cora,” Mom says. “You usually come up with wonderful costumes.”

  Thomas passes the salad without taking any. “Just be a princess. Or a fairy. Or a fairy princess. That’s what you usually do.”

  “Thomas, be polite.” Dad reminds my little brother to use his manners.

  “It’s okay,” Cora says. “He’s right. But I was thinking about being something different this year.”

  Dad nods and passes a steaming bowl of bowtie pasta with creamy white sauce on top of it. “How about you, Lucy?”

  “Sure, I’ll have some!” I answer.

  Dad laughs. “Well, of course you should have some pasta! I was just asking if you’ve given any thought to your Harvest Festival costume.”

  I frown. “No,” I say, and it’s kind of a lie. I’ve been thinking about the costume contest ever since Cora told Georgia about it at recess. I don’t know why I don’t like dressing up. I just don’t.

  “Well, there’s time,” Mom says with a smile and she plops a big spoonful of pasta on her plate.

  Chapter Five

  The Experiment

  Mrs. James is the principal of Granite City Elementary School. She wears really big glasses that hide her big eyebrows until she’s surprised, and then they pop up over the top of her glasses like two caterpillars.

  This morning, Mrs. James is greeting students as they get off buses in front of the school. “Good morning, Lucy.” Mrs. James smiles, her eyebrows hiding behind her glasses.

  “Good morning, Mrs. James!” I answer. I start to walk right past her, but then I think about Mr. Farmer and Natalie Shoemaker again. I stop.

  “Mrs. James?”

  “Yes, Lucy?”

  “Did you know that some people have jobs for last names?”

  “I sure did, Lucy.” Mrs. James nods. She’s really smart. All principals are really smart, I think.

  “Well, you don’t. You actually have a first name for a last name.”

  Pop! Up come the caterpillar eyebrows. “And this is important because—?”

  “Oh, no reason, really,” I say. “I just thought you should know.”

  “Well, thank you, Lucy,” says Mrs. James, but her voice doesn’t sound very thankful at all.

  When I get into Room 2-C, Stewart Swinefest is already there. Like usual, Stewart announces my arrival with a loud “Lucy Goosey is here!”

  Collin and Brody laugh along with Stewart, but Annalisa says, “That’s not very nice, Stewart.”

  I smile at her. She’s usually very quiet. It’s nice of her to stick up for me. “Thanks,” I say, and she smiles back.

  As soon as I hang up my jacket, Cora rushes over to me.

  “Keep your jacket on,” she says. “Miss Flippo says we’re going outside for science today.”

  I love when we go outside for anything. But mostly for science, because that usually means we’re doing an experiment.

  Just then Miss Flippo comes into the room with a big box. “Room 2-C,” she says. “As soon as everyone is here, and we’ve heard the morning announcements, we’re going outdoors to conduct an experiment.”

  “But we don’t have science in the morning,” Collin pipes up.

  “The weather forecast is for showers later today, so I want to be sure we get this done before it rains,” Miss Flippo explains.

  When the announcements are finished, we line up and walk quietly out to the playground.

  “Let’s make a circle right here on the basketball court,” Miss Flippo suggests, still carrying the big box. “Have a seat, everyone.”

  Miss Flippo reaches into the box and takes out a plastic bag of balloons, ones that haven’t been blown up yet. “I’ll pass this bag around,” she says, “and I’d like each of you to reach in and take one. And, remember, color doesn’t matter. Just reach in and grab the first balloon you touch.”

  When the bag comes to me, I close my eyes and pull out a green balloon. I pass the bag to Cora and I see her close her eyes, too. Only, then she opens one eye just a squinty little bit and, sure enough, her hand comes out holding a pink balloon. She smiles at me and passes the bag on to Ming.

  After everyone has a balloon, Miss Flippo asks, “Okay, scientists. What’s inside your balloon?”

  We all look at our floppy balloons. They sure look empty to me.

  “Nothing,” Gavin says.

  “A tiny little bit of air?” Bridget guesses.

  Miss Flippo nods. “Bridget is right. Since the balloon has an open end, some air is most certainly inside the balloon. But not much, right?”

  We all nod.

  “So, let’s fill our balloons up with gas, shall we? Ready? Go!”

  Some of the kids look around to see what others are doing, but I know just what Miss Flippo means. I put the green balloon to my mouth and start blowing. Soon, everyone is puffing air into their balloons. I’m glad I helped my dad blow up balloons for Thomas’s fourth birthday party, but when I’m almost finished, I remember something—I don’t know how to tie it!

  Just as I’m wondering if anyone else knows how, Miss Flippo says, “When your balloon feels like it’s full of gas, pinch the end shut with your fingers, but don’t tie it.”

  Whew! Off the hook for now!

  I notice that most of the other kids from Room 2-C are a little pink in the face after blowing up their balloons.

  “You just used your bodies to transfer air from the atmosphere”—Miss Flippo moves her arms around her head to show us that she means all the air around us—“to the inside of your balloons. And that air is a gas. Actually, as it comes out of your lungs, it’s several gases: nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon dioxide.”

  I am thinking about these new words Miss Flippo has just shared and how they might look if I tried to spell them when I hear a noise coming from across the circle. It’s like the sound Thomas makes when he’s eaten too many soup beans.

  Stewart and Brody are giggling, and Stewart is holding his balloon behind his back with both hands.

  Phssssst.

  The noise comes again, only louder, and now all the boys, and even Bridget and Georgia, are laughing.

  “Stewart,” says Miss Flippo, and I’m sure he’s in for a good scolding, maybe even a trip to Mrs. James’s office. But, instead, Miss Flippo says, “Stewart is actually one step ahead of me. Everyone, I want you to let the gas escape from your balloons. You can do it slowly, as Stewart has demonstrated, or you can just let go and see what happens.”

  Suddenly, the air is filled with flying balloons and funny noises. We all laugh and I chase my balloon as it flies out of my hand and zigzags across the basketball court.

  Miss Flippo claps three times and we all run back to our spots.

  “Now,” she says. “Please put your empty balloon on the ground beside you. Then pass these very, very carefully.” Miss Flippo reaches into her box again and passes a balloon to Jack, who passes it to Logan, who passes it Sarah. Miss Flippo keeps getting more balloons out of the box, and soon balloons are coming one by one around the circle. I can see that these balloons are already filled and tied, but it isn’t until Ajay hands the first squishy balloon to me and I pass it on to Cora that I realize they don’t have air in them. They’re full of water! No wonder Miss Flippo wanted us to pass them so carefully!

  “Okay,” Miss Flippo says. “What’s inside the balloons you’re holding?”

  “Water!” Carl answers.

  “Liquid!” I correct him.

  Carl frowns at me. “Water is a liquid.”

  “You’re absolutely right, Carl,” Miss Flippo agrees. “Water is a liquid.”

  Carl’s frown turns into a big grin.

  “And you’re right, too, Lucy. There is some kind of liquid in the balloons.”

  Now it�
��s my turn to smile really big.

  “And since we can’t see or taste the liquid in the balloon,” Miss Flippo says, “we are guessing it’s water. That’s called a hypothesis. A hypothesis is a guess, but it’s not just any guess,” she tells us. “I like to call it a smart guess. It’s based on facts we already know are true. Why did no one guess that the balloons are filled with coffee? Coffee is a liquid.”

  Ming raises her hand. “Coffee is dark and this liquid is light.

  “Yeah, and coffee is usually hot, and this balloon is cool,” Brody adds.

  “Very good.” Miss Flippo looks pleased. “My young scientists are making hypotheses based on what they already know. Now, the next step is to test our hypothesis. We need to find out if we’re right. How are we going to test our hypothesis? How will we find out if these balloons are, indeed, filled with water?”

  “Break them?” Heather asks.

  Miss Flippo nods.

  We all look at one another. Are we really allowed to break our water balloons?

  “Go ahead. But no aiming at another person.” Miss Flippo stands back a bit.

  Logan is the first to stand up. “Ready? Set? Go!” His blue balloon hits the sidewalk and bursts, scattering water in all directions.

  Brody runs his balloon down the basketball court and tries to make a basket, but the balloon breaks against the backboard and water showers down on him. Georgia drops hers in the grass seven times before it finally bursts. Natalie pokes a tiny hole in her balloon with her fingernails, and we watch as the water shoots out in a steady stream.

  Cora and I play Balloon Toss with ours, daring to get farther and farther away from each other until, splat! Both balloons break on our shoes at the very same time.

  When Miss Flippo claps us back to the circle, some of us are a little damp, but we all agree that we tested our hypothesis and we were right. The evidence showed that the balloons were filled with water.

  “So,” says Miss Flippo, “we’ve seen two states of matter. What’s another state of matter?”

  “Solid?” Tessa answers.

  I know Tessa’s right, but I can’t imagine how to fill a balloon with something solid.

  Miss Flippo opens the box one last time. “Form a line and take a balloon. Then find a partner and discuss what you know about solids.”

  When it’s my turn to reach into the box, I pick up a yellow balloon and, right away, I know. These water balloons are frozen!

  “Cold, cold, cold!” Ajay says, tossing his balloon from hand to hand.

  “Lucy!” calls Georgia. “Be my partner!”

  Georgia and I sit in the grass and drop our frozen balloons between us. It feels good to get mine out of my cold hands. I rub my palms together to warm them up.

  “This is fun!” Georgia is almost squealing with excitement. “Mrs. Whittingham at my old school never took us outside for science!”

  We stare at our frozen balloons. I poke mine. “Well, it certainly is solid,” I say.

  “Yep, hard as a rock,” Georgia agrees.

  I pick mine up again, but this time I pinch the tied end between my thumb and forefinger so I don’t have to touch the coldest part of the balloon. “It’s heavy, too. Heavier than the liquid or gas balloons.”

  “I suppose there’s frozen water inside,” Georgia says.

  “You mean you hypothesize,” I say.

  “Yeah, that’s what I mean,” Georgia says.

  Just then, Miss Flippo’s voice is louder than all the others and we all stop talking to listen.

  “Okay, scientists,” she says. “You may investigate the inside of your solid balloons. You may do this any way you choose, but you may not throw them. I have some tools here that you may choose to use to conduct your research.”

  Stewart groans about not being allowed to throw his balloon, and he and Collin begin to plot other ways set off their ice bombs.

  Georgia and I check out the tools Miss Flippo has collected for us. Georgia chooses a pair of scissors and I think that’s a great idea.

  We take turns cutting the balloons open and peeling them off the small round ball of ice.

  “My ice is kind of cloudy,” I say. “But there are some clear spots, too.”

  “Hey, look!” Georgia says. “I think there’s something inside mine.”

  We both examine it and, sure enough, there’s a colorful spot in the middle of Georgia’s ball of ice.

  “Look at yours!” Georgia cries.

  “Hey, mine has something in it, too!” I say.

  All around us, others are discovering the same thing.

  “So you have a solid,” Miss Flippo says, “with something inside of it. How can you get that something out?”

  “Melt the ice!” Brody shouts. He and Manuel lean over and start breathing warm air on their frozen spheres.

  “That will take forever,” Carl moans. He and Logan stand up and drop theirs from waist-high onto the blacktop basketball court. Carl’s crumbles and the wing of a yellow plastic airplane appears.

  “Cool!” Logan says, and soon we’re all standing on the basketball court, dropping solid spheres until they shatter.

  Georgia finds a red plastic gem in hers, and mine breaks into six pieces before I discover a small blue marble.

  Cora has a quarter and Sarah has a seashell. Manuel finds a car inside his. Stewart finds a plastic T-Rex, which right away tries to eat Gavin’s dog.

  Suddenly, a gust of wind sweeps over the basketball court, and I feel a drop of rain.

  “Room 2-C,” says Miss Flippo, “we can finish indoors. Please gather every last balloon you see lying on the ground. Let’s leave nothing behind except the chunks of ice, which will melt. And let’s move quickly!”

  More big drops plop down on us as we grab everything and hurry indoors.

  Back inside Room 2-C, we work quietly at our desks, filling in a worksheet about solids, liquids, and gases, and recording our findings in our science journals. I roll my marble in my left hand while I write. It’s only ten o’clock in the morning, but I’m pretty sure this day can’t get any better.

  Chapter Six

  A Trip to the Library

  Well, I was totally wrong about the day not getting any better. Right after lunch, Miss Flippo claps us to attention.

  “I have an announcement,” she says. “Usually, second graders do not take a fall field trip. We have a lot of excitement with the Harvest Festival just around the corner. This year, however, Mr. Weaver has invited us to visit his apple orchard, and since this is the perfect time of year to witness apple harvest, I couldn’t turn him down.”

  Room 2-C cheers! Who doesn’t love a field trip?

  “So,” Miss Flippo continues, “I’ll be handing out permission slips and you’ll need to get them signed and returned very quickly. Our trip is next Monday morning.”

  Miss Flippo keeps talking, but my brain is stuck on Mr. Weaver. I wonder how a family of weavers turned out to be apple farmers. I’ll have to ask him when I get a chance.

  When I get off the bus at home, Dad is unloading tools from the back of his pick-up truck. He’s a landscaper and he’s very busy now with the leaves starting to fall in everyone’s yards. Still, he picks up Thomas from preschool and is always home with us after school. Mom teaches at the university and she’s usually home by suppertime.

  “Dad, can I ride my bike to the library with Cora?” I ask.

  “Homework?” he asks.

  “Only spelling words,” I say. “Cora and I can practice at the library.”

  “All right,” Dad agrees. “In a month, it’ll be too cold for bikes, so you may as well ride while you can. Don’t forget your helmet.”

  “I know,” I answer. Cora’s house is only three blocks away, and the library, where Aunt Darian works, is right behind it. I always wear my helmet and stay on the sidewalk, so my parents let me go there by myself.

  I swing my backpack over my shoulders and tighten the chin strap of my helmet. The air is getting co
oler and I can tell fall is really here. I like all the seasons, but I think fall is my favorite.

  As I pedal past houses, I notice the trees. Most still have green leaves, but some are starting to turn bright pinkish-yellow, like the peel of a grapefruit. One day last week, Thomas was talking about the “grapefruit trees” on our street.

  “Grapefruit trees don’t grow in Granite City,” I told him. “They grow in Florida.”

  But Thomas had insisted that he’d seen grapefruit trees. Now, as I pedal toward Cora’s house, I’m pretty sure I’m looking at Thomas’s “grapefruit” trees.

  “I’m ready!” Cora calls to me when she sees me from a block away.

  I don’t even have to slow down as I pass her driveway. She just rides right along beside me and we make the turn toward the library. When we get there, we park our bikes and hang our helmets on the handlebars.

  “Hello, girls!” Aunt Darian whispers when she sees us walk in.

  “Mom, you have to sign this now,” Cora says. She pulls the apple orchard field trip permission slip out of her backpack.

  “Please?” Aunt Darian corrects Cora. ‘Mom, would you please sign this?’ is what you really meant to say, right?”

  Cora and I giggle and Cora nods. “Yes, Mom. That’s what I meant.”

  Aunt Darian looks over the form. “Oh, Mr. Weaver is so nice to invite you kids out to the orchard. You’ll love it there! Your mom and I used to go apple picking there when we were young, Lucy.”

  Aunt Darian signs the form and hands it back to Cora. “Now, what can I help you two find today?”

  “Oh, I could use a new Princess Purple Power book,” Cora says.

  “Easy enough,” says Aunt Darian. “What about you, Lucy?”

  “Well, I’m thinking about the states of matter a lot these days.”

  “Also easy enough,” says Aunt Darian. “I can point you in the right direction.”