by S. C. Davis
“But, it doesn't quite work the way he probably hoped. It dries better, but it leaves a film that's impossible to get off. I'm going to have to play around with it some more,” Kieran explained.
“But anyway, you guys take that. I can't tell you everything that's in it because we're hoping to one day get a patent on it when it's perfected, but I can certainly give you a couple notes on some of the ingredients so you can explain the concept to your teacher.”
We all thanked him and started chattering about how we could set up the presentation for Mr. Gregory.
“He's going to love this!” Britta said, clapping giddily.
Kieran printed out a couple pages of notes for us to take and packed the bottle of Jasper Oil v. 5 into a box with Styrofoam. We thanked him again, wished him luck with his workload, and promised to let him know how our project went.
“That was so cool!” Ethan said, once we were outside of the building.
“Mr. Gregory is going to be totally impressed. I think we’ve successfully completed our mission, guys!” I said.
We agreed to meet up for the sixth and final time the next day, Monday, to make the magic happen. Then we said goodbye and parted ways.
I was the one entrusted with the Jasper Oil, simply because my house was the closest and there was less of a chance of anything bad happening to it on the way. When I got to my house, I paused on the porch for a moment. I couldn't resist.
I sat down on the steps and set the box down beside me. I opened it and carefully pulled the bottle out from between the Styrofoam pieces. I just wanted one more sniff before I took it inside, where the smell would no doubt fill up the entire house if I opened it in there.
I gently unscrewed the cap, lifted the dropper to my nose, and inhaled deeply. Smell is a great memory trigger, and mine was flooded with images of wildflower fields, Rossetti’s Risotto, chewing gum, and the marina, among others. I smiled at the unusual mixture.
As I was about to replace the dropper, another image was triggered inside my mind. Ham. Christmas ham.
I giggled at the thought, thinking I must just be hungry.
But then it hit me. I pulled the dropper out again and sniffed. Yes, there was something in there that was reminding me of the smell of a ham.
“Oh, I know what that is! It's cloves!” I said out loud, excited that I had cracked the code. My grandmother always cooked honey ham with tons of cloves stuffed into the sides for Christmas dinner. The smell was absolutely unmistakable. I gave the dropper another sniff to confirm.
“Yep,” I nodded proudly. But then, yet another image was triggered. Greenery. Evergreen branches. I laughed again at myself, assuming the thought of Christmas ham had me thinking about the holidays.
But no, I definitely smelled evergreen in that oil. Like a fir tree. A Balsam fir, perhaps?
That thought struck up another. Dr. Wyatt's note had said something about clove and balsam. Maybe he was talking about their oils. But the note said don't add clove and balsam to Jasper Oil v. 5.
I looked back at the bottle label to confirm. Indeed, this one was labeled Jasper Oil v. 5. Why would Dr. Wyatt leave instructions not to add those if they were already in the mixture?
And then I wondered...did Kieran go against his professor's advice? That didn't make sense. If he had, wouldn't he want to keep that mixture around to test further, or simply to show Dr. Wyatt how it had worked out?
Of course, there was another possible explanation: someone else added those oils, and Kieran had no clue.
Chapter 15
The Disappearing Glass
IT WAS THE MOMENT of truth. All of us gathered in Mr. Gregory's classroom for one final meeting after school. This time Mr. Gregory was there, ready to see what we had in store for him.
He sat waiting for us at the front of the room, sitting backwards on a chair like he always did. He looked almost…nervous. As if our success affected him as much as it affected us. I found that a bit strange, but maybe I was just misreading him.
Sunday night, Ethan had taken charge of making up a slideshow presentation for Mr. Gregory, using the notes Kieran had given us. We had agreed that Alexandra, who seemed to be the most confident speaker, would explain the experiment while the rest of us handled the demonstration.
After Alexandra’s presentation, there was a brief moment were I feared the experiment wouldn't work. That somehow the oil had changed, and we would make fools of ourselves in front of Mr. Gregory.
But to my relief and my excitement, the flask still vanished from thin air moments after Chase brushed the oil onto it. It was just as amazing as when Kieran had done it.
Mr. Gregory looked dumbfounded.
“That’s...that's incredible,” he said, moving slowly toward the flask, wide-eyed, checking it from different angles. “I've never in my life seen anything like that!”
We had thought it would be a good idea to let him touch the invisible flask, like Ethan had, so we invited him to do so. He reached out slowly, and his finger eventually found the side of the glass. Once he pulled it away, I pointed out the floating fingerprint, and he was, once again, amazed.
He looked at each of us in turn, as if he were seeing us for the first time.
“How did you do this?” he asked.
“Well…,” I began hesitantly. “Mr. Gregory, to be honest, this isn't exactly original research or anything.”
The others shot me looks of warning. What was I doing?
“We learned about refraction and knew it had to be our topic, so we found out that there’s this professor at Bradbury researching the very thing we were trying to demonstrate. We went to visit him yesterday,” I said.
I don’t know why I was giving all this away. I guess with all the lies I had been telling lately, I felt I should show at least some honesty.
I continued to explain how the visit with Kieran had gone, how he provided us with the oil, and then assured Mr. Gregory that the important thing was that we understood the science behind it.
Mr. Gregory was quiet for a few moments as he stood bent over, his hands supported on his knees, staring at his own levitating fingerprint before him. We all waited patiently, nervously, to find out whether or not he would accept our experiment. Finally, he stood up and put his hands on his hips.
“To be honest, this isn't what I was expecting from you all.” We all hung our heads, thinking he was disappointed that we only borrowed someone else's hard work.
“Instead, you went above and beyond my expectations,” he said. A collective sigh of relief.
“You didn't simply hop online and copy a basic experiment easy enough for kids your age. You made the effort to find help, to learn from someone else, and to discover the hard work of an expert.
“You came up with something simply amazing to show me, and even better, you fully understand how it all works,” Mr. Gregory said proudly. “You pass! With flying colors!”
We tried not to behave as if we were in a cheesy movie scene, but that's exactly how it played out, anyway. After the whooping and high-fiving, we demonstrated the disappearance a few more times on some other flasks and beakers Mr. Gregory brought out.
He was astounded with the result no matter how many times we repeated it. Finally, after about an hour, it was time for everyone to leave.
“Don't worry about all the stuff, I'll clean it up when I get here in the morning,” Mr. Gregory offered.
“What should we do with the Jasper Oil, though?” I asked. I certainly didn't want to be in charge of its safekeeping, but I also didn't want to see it thrown out or lost. Somehow, I had a feeling it might be needed again.
“Let's just keep it here in the classroom. Maybe we can show the rest of the class or something,” Wes suggested. We all agreed that was a good idea, so he re-packed the bottle and carried it over to a cabinet full of chemicals and more expensive equipment that Mr. Gregory kept locked.
“I'm going to just move these invisible flasks into the sink, otherwise you'll forget
they're here and knock them over,” I said, still smiling from the success of the demonstration.
I reached out to pick up the flasks and noticed something odd. The one we had first demonstrated on was completely dry. Still totally invisible, save for Mr. Gregory's fingerprint smudge, but otherwise completely invisible and dry to the touch.
I didn't say anything about it right away, because I suspected that it had something to do with the clove and balsam oils that seemed to have mysteriously made their way into the mix.
Instead, I placed the rest of the flasks in the sink, but kept the first one out. I wrapped it in my sweatshirt and stuck it into my backpack without anyone noticing. I wasn’t sure what I planned to do with it, but I felt compelled to study it further.
As I packed it away I felt a small surge of guilt. I knew I should be keeping the others in the loop. But I couldn’t help it; I wanted to crack this one myself.
Chapter 16
The Super–Secret Science Club
WE DECIDED TO HAVE one last meeting for old time’s sake. We gathered on Friday afternoon, and everyone sat around laughing and chatting for half an hour or so. Eventually we grew quiet.
Suddenly a feeling hit me that totally caught me off guard. I was actually feeling sad that this project was ending. We had gotten to know each other in the last few weeks and shared stories, jokes, opinions, ideas, and even harmless debates. We actually had become friends, despite the expectations.
Unfortunately, middle school is not so merciful when it comes to picking your friends. Everyone has a group, and there isn’t always much overlap. As unfair as it is, spending too much time with random kids outside of your usual crowd often results in suspicion, or teasing.
So it seemed from here on out, it would be casual “hellos” passing in the hall, or maybe the occasional group project in a shared class if we were lucky.
But definitely no more of this. No more tough-guy jokes from Chase, no more surprisingly bold outbursts by Wes, no more pep talks with Alexandra or passionate speeches by Britta, and definitely no more affectionate teasing of Ethan.
“I'm just going to throw this out there.” It was Wes who broke the silence. “What if we kept this going? Made it like an after school club? Our own thing. We can keep it about science, since we all seem to be good at that, and so Mr. Gregory will have a reason to let us use the classroom.”
I couldn’t believe it. Apparently I wasn’t the only one feeling reluctant to end the project.
“We can try to come up with new challenges to work on each time we finish one. But most importantly, just keep up the good times, y’know?” Wes said. “I mean, let’s face it. We all seem to really like each other.”
For some reason, he looked right at me when he said it.
This time there was no pondering or looking around to see what others were thinking before answering.
“I'm totally down for that,” I said.
“Me too, I think that's a great idea,” Alexandra said with a smile. “Gives me a much-needed break from sports.”
“Yeah that sounds really nice. I'm in, too,” said Britta with a sweet smile.
We each looked at Ethan and Chase. “Guys?” I asked.
Chase looked thoughtful for a moment, then pursed his lips and nodded.
“All right. Let's do it,” he said.
We all turned then to Ethan, who actually looked a little emotional. He had never formed a bond with other kids like us, and he was probably the most upset to see the project come to an end. I think the suggestion to keep it going felt personal to Ethan. Like we were doing it just for him.
Suddenly he came back to himself and tried to play it cool.
“Yeah, I guess I could probably make room in my schedule for it if it's something you guys want to do,” he said.
We laughed, then of course gave him a little grief.
“Gee, thanks, Ethan,” I said. “We’re humbled by your generosity.”
“So, are we just 'The Science Club' or something?” Chase asked, snickering at his own nerdy suggestion.
“Well, no offense, but…I don't know that I want the whole world to know that we do this,” Alexandra said timidly. “It's nothing to do with you guys at all. It's just the whole thing with my family and how crazy they are with sports and stuff. I can just hear my dad now: 'If you have time for some stupid science club, why aren't you signed up for the youth basketball league?'“ she mocked.
“Okay. 'The Secret Science Club' then,” Chase said with a wink.
“I'm with Alexandra. I'm not so sure my band mates wouldn't make fun of me if they knew I was doing this on purpose,” Wes said. “Definitely should be a secret.”
“Okay, okay! The 'Super-Secret Science Club' then! Happy? Everyone can just make up their own excuse for where they are and what they're doing for our meetings,” Chase said, throwing his hands up like he was out of ideas.
“That's that, then,” I said smiling. “The Super-Secret Science Club it is.”
“S-3-C. Secret code name for our secret club,” Ethan said proudly.
“S3C!” We all approved.
Chapter 17
The Rosalind Group
THE S3C HAD ITS opening meeting the following Tuesday after school. We talked about some possible new experiments to try, but mostly we just chatted. We were about to head home when, to our surprise, Mr. Gregory walked in. He didn’t seem surprised to see us at all, as if he knew all along that we would have decided to do this.
“Hey Mr. Gregory, guess what?” —Ethan could not contain his excitement— “We decided to keep meeting. We're going to be a club. A secret club though, so don't tell anyone!”
“Yeah, we decided we actually enjoyed the project. Something new and different to do,” Chase said with a shrug, still a tad self-conscious about it like a few of us were.
“We'll keep coming up with new science projects to work on just for fun,” I said. “Maybe you can even suggest some.”
“Is it okay if we keep using the classroom after school?” Britta said, bright-eyed.
Mr. Gregory smiled knowingly. “Of course. This is great news. I'm really glad to hear this.”
He seemed like he was keeping something inside. Like I had sensed at our project demonstration, he seemed strangely nervous. He walked to the middle of the classroom and turned a chair around backwards in his usual move.
“Listen, there's something quite important I need to discuss with you all,” he said.
We all slowly sat back down, slightly alarmed. The last time Mr. Gregory had used such a serious tone was when he told us we were failing. All eyes were on him.
“First, I need to confess something. But please, before you react…hear me out.” He sighed, and then continued. “None of you were ever failing my class.”
A rush of confusing feelings washed over me. I was all at once angry, hurt, and betrayed, but at the same time grateful for the new friendships that had begun. Not to mention relieved that I wasn't actually failing.
“You see, I noticed something within each of you; some unique characteristic or skill that each of you have that I think is necessary in order to accomplish the real goal here. I'm so sorry that I had to lie to you about it, but I needed to test my hunches. I needed to give you a sort of 'audition,' if you will, for the real task ahead.”
At this point I was growing a little uncomfortable. What was this “real task ahead” he was talking about? I even found myself wondering if he was about to ask us to do something illegal. I really wanted him to just get to the point.
“Needless to say, you all passed. It was as much a personality test as it was a test of your smarts and skills. And finally, your decision to remain a group shows your commitment, loyalty, and appreciation for knowledge. This was the icing on the cake,” Mr. Gregory said.
I couldn’t fathom what we were being tested for, if not science class. Why did we need commitment, loyalty, and an appreciation for knowledge?
“It’s time for me to tel
l you the truth,” Mr. Gregory said. “I’m a member of a secret organization called the Rosalind Group. It's named after Rosalind Franklin, a brilliant scientist who played a huge part in the discovery of DNA.
“But you rarely hear about her. Watson and Crick, her male colleagues, were given full credit for the discovery. It's one of the greatest-known cases of a scientist not receiving proper credit for her work.”
I was growing impatient. Was this some science history lesson or did he actually have something meaningful to say?
“The Rosalind Group’s original mission was to find and prevent cases of stolen scientific research, such as what happened with Rosalind Franklin, and worse,” Mr. Gregory said.
This news put me more at ease. It sounded like Mr. Gregory was still one of the good guys.
“So, is it part of the FBI or something?” Chase asked.
“Actually, the government doesn’t know we exist at all. We operate off the radar to try and prevent cases from happening in the first place,” Mr. Gregory said.
“And?” Chase asked, settling back in his chair.
Mr. Gregory then explained how the group had recently changed leadership after their former director passed away. His nephew, a wealthy businessman named Dr. Nigel Rigby, had persuaded his ailing uncle to appoint him as the new director on his death bed.
“At first we didn't understand why Dr. Rigby would have any interest in the group,” Mr. Gregory said. “He wasn't a scientist himself, and it wasn't clear what his involvement with the scientific community was.”
What does this have to do with us? I wondered.
Mr. Gregory then went on to explain all the changes that took place in the Rosalind Group after Dr. Rigby’s takeover. Old members were dismissed, new people were brought in, processes changed.
“All our projects changed, too,” he said. “Investigations that were already underway seemed to disappear, abandoned before they were complete, and new ones were assigned.