How Oliver Olson Changed the World

by Claudia Mills

  Oliver felt bad for the first Pluto, though. Death by dog chewing was a tragic way to go.

  6

  Jupiter had at least sixty-three moons that revolved around it, Mrs. O’Neill told Oliver’s class that Wednesday. It had so many moons that some of them didn’t even have names.

  “We could give them names,” Crystal suggested.

  “What do you think would be a good name for a moon?” Mrs. O’Neill asked.

  Lots of hands shot into the air. Kids wanted to name moons after themselves, after their pets, and after characters from cartoons that Oliver had never seen.

  Oliver didn’t raise his hand. Any name would be better than the name of Earth’s own moon: Moon. That was like naming your dog Dog or your cat Cat. It was practically the same as not having a name at all.

  “Can we send the names to Senator Levitt?” Crystal asked.

  “We should probably send them to NASA,” Mrs. O’Neill said. “But we can send them to Senator Levitt, too. I hope you have started thinking of some world-changing ideas to send her.”

  Oliver didn’t have any so far. He hadn’t told his parents about the assignment yet.

  “Scientists know a lot about Jupiter’s largest moons,” Mrs. O’Neill said. “Those moons got their names from characters in Greek mythology. The moon Io has many volcanoes. The moon Europa has water on it, just like Earth.”

  “Can you swim in it?” Sylvie asked.

  “It’s all frozen,” Mrs. O’Neill said, “because Jupiter is so far away from the sun and so cold. Another moon, Ganymede, is even larger than the planet Mercury.”

  That meant it was larger than Pluto, too.

  Mrs. O’Neill told the class that the four largest planets—Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune—weren’t hard and rocky like Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars. “They are largely made of gas,” she said. “They are called the gas giants.”

  “Can you walk on them?” J.P. asked.

  Mrs. O’Neill shook her head. “No. I don’t think people will ever walk on them the way we walked on the moon.”

  Oliver thought about Neil Armstrong walking on the moon. It would be strange to do something you knew would be in history books forever. Kids in school would learn about you for centuries. You would be an answer to a matching question:

  8. First man to walk on the moon d. Neil Armstrong

  Maybe Crystal would grow up to be the answer to a matching question:

  4. Pluto protester k. Crystal Harding

  “Jupiter is one of the few planets you can see with the naked eye,” Mrs. O’Neill went on.

  Some kids laughed at the word naked.

  “Jupiter is not as bright as Venus, but it’s bright enough to see on a clear night. At the space sleepover, you’ll get an even better look at Jupiter through the telescope.”

  Oliver had a thought: his parents might let him come for the first part of the sleepover—the non-sleeping part. That way he could see Jupiter through a telescope and check out its colored bands and Great Red Spot. But it would be embarrassing and pitiful when his parents came to pick him up just as J.P. and everyone else were zipping into their sleeping bags to watch Star Wars. It would be even worse than not going to the sleepover at all.

  Mrs. O’Neill put a CD into the class CD player. “Boys and girls, now I’m going to play you a piece of music about Jupiter by the composer Gustav Holst. As you listen, see if the music makes you think of a large, majestic planet, the king of all the planets, moving slowly across the night sky.”

  Oliver closed his eyes to listen. The music did remind him of something great and powerful.

  If there was music for Pluto, what would it sound like? A tiny whimper, maybe, that nobody except Oliver could hear.

  After school, Oliver’s mother had a protein bar for him, with carrot sticks and a glass of tomato juice. Oliver imagined astronauts eating the bar in outer space: a day’s worth of calories and nutrients squeezed into a dark, dense cube. There was going to be pizza at the space sleepover.

  “What do you have for homework?” his mother asked.

  “Just some math and spelling. Oh, and we have to think of an idea that could change the world.”

  It was a pretty ridiculous assignment, when you thought about it. Oliver explained to his mother about Senator Levitt’s visit.

  “Mrs. O’Neill told us it could be any kind of idea, really,” Oliver said. “Like for a new law in Colorado.”

  “I have the perfect idea!” his mother said. Oliver started to feel nervous.

  “Have you noticed how many parents make U-turns in front of the school after they drop off their children in the morning?”

  Oliver couldn’t say that he had.

  “One of these days there’s going to be an accident there. So your idea could be to put a sign by the school that says NO U-TURNS.”

  “That would be my world-changing idea?”

  “It could save someone’s life!” Oliver’s mother sounded defensive now. “It could change the world for one person at least.”

  Oliver took a sip of tomato juice to wash down his bite of protein bar.

  “Well, go do your math and spelling so I can check them before dinner. We can work on your idea for Senator Levitt when your father gets home. You want to come up with an idea for something that a state senator could actually accomplish.”

  Oliver took another gulp of juice. “Mrs. O’Neill said there’s going to be a telescope at the space sleepover. We’ll be able to see Jupiter. Doesn’t that sound educational?”

  And wonderful? he wanted to add.

  His mother could hardly deny it. “Yes, but … I suppose you could go to that part and come home before bedtime.”

  Oliver had known that was what she’d say.

  “No one else will be going home early,” he said pleadingly.

  He hoped she wouldn’t get teary-eyed and start talking about how sick he had been when he was four.

  “Oliver, we’ve already discussed this, and the answer is still no.”

  Oliver felt the stirring of a world-changing idea. There should be a law that all kids were allowed to attend all school activities, especially sleepovers.

  Or that parents were required to listen—really listen—to what their children wanted to do.

  Or that protein bars should be banned forever.

  He looked down at the rest of his protein bar, lying leaden on his plate like the largest, heaviest moon of Jupiter.

  Where were Crystal’s dogs when he needed them?

  7

  The next Saturday, Crystal’s father drove Crystal and the diorama to Oliver’s house. Oliver was nervous.

  What would his parents think about Crystal?

  What would Crystal think about his parents?

  At first everything seemed all right. Oliver’s mother covered the dining room table with old newspapers. Crystal set the diorama in the middle of it.

  “Is there anything you two need?” Oliver’s mother asked.

  “No thanks, Mrs. Olson,” Crystal said politely.

  “A snack?”

  Oliver gave Crystal a quick shake of his head while his mother wasn’t looking.

  “We’re fine,” she said.

  “Let me see how the diorama is coming along.”

  Oliver groaned to himself. His mother peered into the cavernous computer box, where his neatly painted Styrofoam balls hung on their wires. So far it looked like a normal diorama.

  “Don’t you think Jupiter and Saturn are too close together?” his mother asked. “Could you move them so they’re not touching?”

  Oliver waited to see what Crystal would say. The whole time at Crystal’s house, her parents hadn’t made any comments whatsoever about their work. The only family members who had taken any interest in the project had been Crystal’s dogs.

  “Sure.” Crystal smiled agreeably at Oliver’s mother.

  Then Oliver’s mother picked up the sheet of planet facts Crystal had printed neatly: the name of e
very planet, its color, its gravity, its moons.

  “Crystal dear, did you do all this?” she asked. “It looks very nice. I did notice a few errors here and there. Is it all right if I go ahead and mark them?”

  “Sure,” Crystal repeated. This time she didn’t smile.

  “It’s just that accuracy is worth fifty percent of your grade,” Oliver’s mother explained. She picked up a pencil and began lightly circling some misspellings.

  “Also … don’t you think it would add something if you explained how each planet got its name? The names come from Greek and Roman mythology, you know: Venus, the goddess of love; Mars, the god of war.”

  For the first time since Oliver had known her, Crystal had nothing to say. After a long pause, she replied, “Well, we have some other stuff we want to add instead.”

  Oliver hoped she wasn’t going to tell his mother about Pluto and the “Let me in!” sign and the hostile scientists. But she seemed to be figuring things out on her own.

  “Mom, we have a lot to do,” Oliver said.

  “All right, honey,” his mother said. Oliver could tell that her feelings were hurt. “But if you need anything, let me know.”

  When she left, Oliver’s stomach unclenched with relief.

  Crystal stared after her. “Is your mother always—you know—like this?” She reached inside the diorama and moved Saturn’s wire so that Saturn was farther away from Jupiter.

  Oliver nodded miserably. “She worries a lot about my grades,” he said, as if it weren’t obvious. “It’s because I had to wait a year to go to kindergarten, so I guess she thinks I’m always behind in everything.”

  “Wow,” Crystal said sympathetically.

  Oliver felt himself flushing with embarrassment, which turned to anger, not at Crystal, but at his mother. “I think …” he began. “I think schools should make a rule that parents can’t help with homework. It’s like—what’s the point of homework if the parents do it?”

  “Oliver,” Crystal said solemnly, “that is a great idea. That can be your idea to send to Senator Levitt! Go ahead, write it down before you forget.” She shoved a sheet of paper at him.

  Oliver thought it was a pretty terrific idea, too, even better than the ban on protein bars. But then he said, “I can’t send it. My mother already thought up an idea she wants me to use.” He told Crystal his mother’s suggestion.

  “U-turns?!” Crystal’s voice was almost a shriek. “Oliver, your idea is ten thousand times better. At least write it down. You write it down while I paint the outside of the carton. What color do you think we should make it? Maybe dark blue? Sort of like the night sky?”

  For the next few minutes, Oliver wrote while Crystal painted.

  Then his mother reappeared in the dining room.

  “Oh, Crystal, wait, let me get you one of Oliver’s smocks. You’ll get paint all over that pretty top.”

  A moment later, Oliver’s mother had tied a smock around Crystal’s neck. She tied one on Oliver, too.

  Then she peeked into the diorama. “You did move Saturn!” She glanced toward Oliver’s paper. He tried to cover it with his arm without making it look as if he was trying to cover it with his arm.

  “I’m glad you’re working on more information to add,” his mother said. “All right, I’ll go now. Let me know when you’re ready for a snack.”

  When they were alone again, Oliver quickly finished writing his idea.

  “Give it to me,” Crystal said. She took his paper and tucked it into her science notebook. “I’ll keep it at my house, in case you change your mind and want to send it in to Senator Levitt. Maybe we should make the sign for Pluto and glue on all the scientists at my house, too.”

  Oliver looked at Pluto number two, sitting alone on the paint-streaked newspaper. “Yeah,” he said.

  Oliver took a turn with the paintbrush. The computer carton looked a lot better now, with its coat of midnight blue.

  “Are we going to paint the inside?” he asked.

  “We should. But we’ll have to take the planets out, or else be really careful not to get paint on them. Your mother doesn’t have teensy-weensy smocks, does she?”

  Oliver laughed.

  His mother came into the dining room as he and Crystal were putting the planets back into the freshly painted interior of the carton. Oliver was impressed that she had made herself stay away for an entire twenty minutes.

  “Much better!” she praised. “Maybe add some of these shiny stick-on stars in the background? So it won’t look so dark?”

  As she spoke, she picked up the paint-covered newspapers to put in the trash. “Now let me bring you that snack.”

  Only after she had bustled away with the crumpled papers did Oliver realize that a small Styrofoam ball had been swept along with them: Pluto number two. Even at his neat, orderly house, apparently, Pluto wasn’t safe from destruction.

  Oliver broke the news to Crystal. “She threw away Pluto.”

  Crystal burst out laughing. She handed Oliver the bag of Styrofoam balls. “Okay,” she said. “Pick out Pluto number three.”

  8

  Mrs. O’Neill always kept her promises. On Thursday, the same day their world-changing ideas were due, she brought to class a folder filled with articles about Pluto.

  “Is Pluto a planet?” she wrote on the chalkboard.

  The main problem with Pluto, she explained, wasn’t so much that Pluto was small but that its orbit was irregular, and it wasn’t significantly bigger than its own moon, Charon.

  “The scientists said that a planet needs to ‘dominate its neighborhood.’ All the other planets are much bigger than their moons. But Pluto isn’t.”

  Oliver could see Crystal ready to explode with indignation. J.P. was looking at her, too. The boys exchanged grins.

  Mrs. O’Neill smiled. “Yes, Crystal?”

  “That makes it sound like a real planet has to be some kind of bully! Like it has to be able to beat up all its moons.”

  “I don’t think that’s what the scientists meant,” Mrs. O’Neill said. “According to them, if Pluto counts as a planet, then dozens of other objects, like dwarf planets Ceres and Eris, should also be counted.”

  “Maybe they should be counted!” Crystal said. “Or maybe … maybe Pluto’s special, just because it already got to be a planet for so long.”

  Mrs. O’Neill looked thoughtful. “Actually, some astronomers agree with you, Crystal. They think Pluto should still be considered a planet for historical and cultural reasons—because we are so used to thinking of Pluto that way.”

  “Isn’t that a good reason?” Crystal demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Mrs. O’Neill replied. “What do you think? Is that a good reason for doing something? Because we’ve always done it that way before?”

  Now Crystal looked uncertain. Oliver felt uncertain, too. His parents had always done his dioramas for him; this time he was doing his own diorama. His parents had never let him go to a sleepover; now he wanted to go to one more than anything in the world. He didn’t want to keep on doing things for the rest of his life the same way he had always done them.

  Crystal hesitated. Then she said, “I think it depends. On what kind of thing it is.”

  Mrs. O’Neill smiled again. “That’s an excellent answer, Crystal.”

  The class talked more about Pluto, with lots of kids for Pluto being a planet, including Crystal, Oliver, and Sylvie, and lots of kids against, including J.P. In the end, Mrs. O’Neill let the class vote. Pluto won, but it was close: 14–12.

  “Now,” Mrs. O’Neill said, “I want you all to share your world-changing ideas before you hand them in. After school today I’m going to mail them to Senator Levitt.”

  Oliver hoped he wouldn’t have to read his, but Mrs. O’Neill said, “We’ll just go around the room in order,” and he knew then that he wasn’t going to be able to avoid it.

  The boy in the first seat, Scott Healy, read, “My idea is to make jet-powered skateboards that
will go really fast.”

  Then Angie Fettig read, “My idea is to give food to hungry people so that they don’t die, and if they do die, to go to their funerals.”

  Tony Mungo’s idea was to build robots that could do homework for kids. The class cheered at that one. James Alpert wanted to fire special ice pellets into space to cool off the atmosphere and stop global warming. Melanie Sparks thought the government should pay for hospitals for poor people.

  Sylvie read hers: “I heard that people test eye makeup on bunnies’ eyes. I think that’s really wrong, and there should be a law against it. People shouldn’t wear eye makeup, anyway, and if they want to wear it, they should test it on their own eyes.”

  J.P. read his: “I think the government should give more money for research on rocks. Rocks are very interesting, and people should find out more about them.” Oliver shot him a grin.

  Crystal had lots of ideas, including letting Pluto be a planet again. Mrs. O’Neill told her to pick just one idea to share, so she read: “I would make a law that kids can’t get into trouble for talking in class. Some people are naturally talkative, and some people are naturally quiet, and it isn’t fair that the naturally talkative people should have their desks moved all the time.”

  Lots of kids laughed, and Mrs. O’Neill said, “I’ll be sure to give your idea careful consideration, Crystal.”

  Now it was Oliver’s turn. He kept his voice dull and read without expression; he wasn’t even going to pretend that he was excited about U-turns.

  “Many parents make U-turns in front of the school when they drop their kids off in the morning. This is unsafe and could cause an accident. My idea is to put up a sign in front of the school that says NO U-TURNS.”

  He wondered if Mrs. O’Neill would comment on his idea. She just looked at him with a question in her eyes. Then she went on to a kid who wanted a law that movie theaters couldn’t charge so much for their popcorn.

  When everybody had finished, Mrs. O’Neill said, “If some of these ideas were adopted, I think the world would be a much better place. Now we’ll see what Senator Levitt thinks. She’ll be at our school assembly a week from tomorrow, the day of our third-grade space sleepover!”