Nuts About Science

by Michelle Houts

  “I don’t know. But I’ll find out.”

  We find Aunt Darian at the circulation desk. She isn’t surprised to see us.

  “I’ve been saving some brand-new books for you two.”

  Cora and I aren’t surprised about that. Aunt Darian always saves books for us. She calls it a “perk.” A perk is what you get when you have a relative who works at the library.

  “For you, Cora …” Aunt Darian reaches under the desk. She hands Cora the newest Cindy Sparkles book. It’s called Cindy Sparkles: Ballerina at Bedtime.

  Cora hugs it so tightly that glitter falls off the cover. “Thanks, Mom!” She beams.

  “And for you, Lucy …” Aunt Darian hands me a book about fossils. Really old, really cool fossils.

  “Oooh, thanks!” I say. “Can I check it out and take it home?”

  Aunt Darian smiles. “Of course you can. But I haven’t cataloged those yet, so why don’t you girls look around, and I’ll get them checked in. Then you can check them out, okay?”

  Cora goes straight for the fiction section, and I head for nonfiction.

  Trees are what I have on my mind. I sit down at a computer, and a few clicks and taps later, I know it’s my lucky day. The library has four books about tree diseases!

  The first book I find isn’t very helpful, but the second has a chapter for every kind of tree. I find the one on oaks, and what do you know? There’s a whole page about oak wilt, the disease Mrs. James yelled to me.

  I read until Cousin Cora comes to find me.

  “What are you reading about?”

  “Oak wilt. What else?”

  “Oh.” Cora doesn’t sound too interested.

  “Did you know that a sick tree will lose leaves in the spring or summer? And then it won’t grow new ones?”

  “Oh, I thought trees only lose their leaves in the fall.”

  “Those are healthy trees,” I explain. “A sick tree loses them early. And a tree can’t live without its leaves.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the leaves use the light from the sun to make food. They need chlorophyll. That’s what makes their leaves green,” I tell her, reading from the book.

  “How do you know this stuff, Lucy?” Cora sighs. “You are so smart!”

  “I just read it right here.” I show her. “I’m not any smarter than you are.”

  Cora looks around like she’s ready to leave. But I’m not ready. I still have more to tell her.

  “Did you know that red oaks die from oak wilt, but white oaks can live longer even if they get it?”

  Now Cora looks really confused. “I thought oak trees were green.”

  “Never mind. I found my answer.”

  “Well, I don’t even know what the question is.” Cora sighs.

  “The question is: how can we get our squirrels back?”

  Cora thinks for a minute. “But why do squirrels need trees at all?”

  Her question reminds me of Miss Flippo and our habitat projects.

  “For shelter. And protection from predators. My dog, Sloan, always tries to catch squirrels when we go to the park, but they scurry up a tree where they’re safe. And squirrels need food, like acorns.”

  Cora nods. “Speaking of food, how about we go back to our own habitats. I’m getting hungry!” She straightens her invisible tiara and we head for the door. “To the Royal Palace!”

  “To the Royal Palace!” I echo.

  Chapter Five

  The Laboratory

  Just before suppertime, Mom comes home from work. She’s a teacher at the university. Dad’s finished mowing, and he has yummy-smelling chicken on the grill. My little brother, Thomas, is painting on the easel on the back patio. He’s four. And most of the time, he’s trouble.

  “How was your first day of second grade?” Mom asks, joining us outside.

  “Room 2-C has a skeleton, the squirrels are homeless, and I’m going to my lab,” I say, heading across the yard. I turn and holler over my shoulder, “Call me when dinner’s ready. I’m starving!”

  “What lab?” Mom asks, but I’m already on my way to the playhouse.

  The playhouse is a little shed my dad built when I was small. It’s brown and has white shutters and little windows with window boxes that used to hold fake flowers. Inside, there’s just enough room for three or four people to sit down on the small chairs Mom got at a garage sale. Mom and Dad can’t stand up inside the playhouse—they’d bonk their heads on the ceiling if they tried—but it’s still the perfect height for me.

  I haven’t been inside for a very long time, but it looks the same as I remembered. There’s a little kitchen set with a wooden refrigerator, stove, and sink, a little table, and even a pretend telephone hanging on the wall. There are a lot of toys that Thomas has dragged inside. Maybe Thomas needs toys, but I don’t.

  I need a place to do research. I need a place to solve problems.

  I need a science lab just like Room 2-C’s.

  I push my old play kitchen into one corner. In the cupboard, I find an old blanket, and I use that to cover up the stove and sink. Now I have a research station.

  I drag the small table over to one of the windows, placing my new library books on top, and pull some notebook paper and a pencil from my backpack and set them down with the books. There. Now I’m ready to record important observations.

  What else will I need in a science lab? Oh, yes—just like in Room 2-C, if I’m going to keep two eyes for the rest of my life, I’m going to need goggles. I search every cupboard in the play kitchen, but we don’t seem to have any goggles lying around. Then I see a solution! One of Thomas’s stuffed dinosaurs is wearing a pair of my old sunglasses.

  Good enough. I hang my sunglasses/goggles on a hook beside the research station.

  And that’s all I have time to do before Mom calls me for supper.

  Chapter Six

  Green Beans and Good Ideas

  “Why don’t we eat outside?” Mom says. “It’s warm, and fall will be here soon.” So we sit at the picnic table on the back patio and eat the chicken dad grilled, along with green beans that Thomas won’t touch, and a big salad.

  “It’s good to see you’re using your playhouse again,” Mom says.

  “It’s not a playhouse anymore,” I tell her. “It’s my lab.”

  Mom smiles. “Well, I think every girl ought to have her own lab if she wants one.” She passes the beans to Dad, who nods in agreement.

  “What’s all this about homeless squirrels?” he asks.

  Thomas slips a green bean under the picnic table to Sloan. Except Sloan won’t eat it. He hates green beans just as much as Thomas does.

  I tell Mom and Dad about the tree that isn’t there anymore, and about Mrs. James, and about oak wilt. “I didn’t see a single squirrel today! Where do you think they went?”

  “I’m sure there are plenty of trees around Granite City Elementary School, Lucy,” Dad says.

  He’s right. Behind school, there are a lot of pine trees and bushes and some little maple trees. But not one tree like the giant oak, which had branches that spread out like arms to give the world a hug.

  “Dad, those trees are fine, but the squirrels really loved that old oak. They used to run up and down the trunk with acorns in their cheeks. Last year, we could see a nest with baby squirrels in it from my first grade classroom.”

  Dad looks at Mom and Mom looks at Dad.

  “Maybe you can convince Mrs. James to plant a new tree where the old one used to be,” Mom suggests.

  I hadn’t thought of that. Convince sounds like a strong word to me. Like maybe it won’t be easy to get my principal to plant a new tree.

  “How?” I ask. “How do I convince Mrs. James?”

  “Well, you have a good reason to want a new tree. That’s a start,” Mom says.

  “Indeed,” Dad chimes in. “And a show of public support is always a good thing.”

  A show of public support? I know what that means! I’ve seen
people on TV marching and chanting to get something they want.

  Right after supper I get to work on my signs.

  Chapter Seven

  Convincing

  I pass out signs on the bus on the way to school. I give one to a fourth grade girl named Elizabeth who’s wearing a T-shirt that says, SAVE THE WHALES. I figure if she wants to save the whales, she probably wants to save the squirrels, too. Besides, there aren’t even any whales in Granite City to save.

  I give another sign to Logan, because he asks me for one. I save one for Cora, and I keep the last sign for me. This is my Convincing, after all.

  The bus stops in front of Granite City Elementary School.

  “Follow me,” I tell my sign holders. We march right to the two rectangle-shaped windows in front of the school office. “Ready? Now, do what I do.”

  Logan and fourth-grade Elizabeth and I march in a circle. We shout, “Bring back the squirrels! Plant a new tree! BRING BACK THE SQUIRRELS! PLANT A NEW TREE!”

  “What squirrels?” Logan asks. “I don’t see any squirrels.”

  “That’s the point,” I say. “Keep marching!”

  Logan shrugs and starts chanting again. He has a really loud voice.

  Lots of kids getting off school buses stop to see what we’re doing. When I see Cora, I give her a sign and she joins our circle. More and more kids come over to check out our Convincing. Georgia, Carl, and Bridget even march with us!

  I should have made more signs.

  Around and around and around we go in front of Mrs. James’s office window.

  “How long are we going to—” Bridget starts to ask, but then we see Mrs. James come out of the school’s front doors.

  “What’s going on out here?” Her eyebrows peek up over the top of her really big glasses.

  We stop marching.

  “I’m having a Convincing.” I tell her.

  “A what?”

  “A Convincing. You know, when you convince someone to do something.”

  Mrs. James’s eyebrows come back down behind her big glasses.

  “I see. Would you like to tell me who you are trying to convince?”

  I smile really big. “You.”

  Mrs. James doesn’t look surprised anymore. “And how about telling me what you’re trying to convince me to do?”

  I try really hard not to roll my eyes. If she read the signs, she would know. But I don’t say that, because the school rule, “Respect others,” probably means “Don’t be sassy to adults.” Instead, I tell her about the squirrels from first grade that aren’t here for second grade because the tree from first grade is gone. “It’s not fair to the poor squirrels! They need a habitat!”

  Behind me I hear, “Yeah!” and “It’s not fair!” and “You tell her, Lucy Goosey!”

  Ugh. Who invited Stewart Swinefest to my Convincing?

  Mrs. James sighs a very big sigh. “Lucy, didn’t we talk about this just yesterday? The tree had a disease, remember?”

  “Oak wilt. I read about it at the library.”

  Mrs. James’s eyebrows are showing again. And she’s almost smiling. That’s a good sign!

  “You went to the library. Very nice. Then you understand why we had to cut the oak tree down?”

  “Yep, I do.”

  Mrs. James looks like she’s thinking very hard. “If you understand, Lucy, then tell me again. Why are you having a … Convincing?”

  I know you have to be very smart to be a principal. But right now, Mrs. James isn’t acting very smart.

  “Because nobody planted a new tree!”

  Mrs. James’s eyebrows go all the way up to the top of her head.

  “Ready? March!” I shout to my supporters.

  Mrs. James jumps into the circle. “No, no! Wait! No need for any more marching.”

  Logan looks disappointed.

  “I have an idea,” says Mrs. James. “I’ll talk to the PTA about paying for a new tree.”

  Wow! My Convincing has convinced Mrs. James! That was easy.

  “But, first …”

  Uh oh. There are going to be but firsts?

  “I think you young protestors should write reports for me to take to the next PTA meeting. You can title them ‘Why Granite City Elementary School Needs a New Tree.’ How does that sound?” Mrs. James asks.

  Fourth-grade Elizabeth gives her sign back to me. “I’m already working on an essay for Save the Whales. I’m out.”

  “I just came to yell,” says Logan, and then he walks into school.

  Stewart Swinefest runs for the door. Most of the other kids quickly follow him.

  Cora’s still standing with me, though.

  “That sounds good to me,” I tell Mrs. James. “Cora and I will write our reports this weekend. Won’t we, Cora?”

  “Yes, we will!”

  I smile. Cora’s the best cousin ever.

  “Good,” says Mrs. James. “No more marching, then?”

  “No more marching,” I promise.

  All this, and the day has just started.

  Not too shabby.

  Chapter Eight

  A Fine Specimen

  Miss Flippo has a great surprise for us in Room 2-C. The counter by the window near the Science Lab has lots of new stuff on it.

  Except Miss Flippo doesn’t like the word stuff.

  “That word doesn’t tell us much,” she says. “Stuff can be anything. Food or clothing or art supplies. Anything at all.”

  Miss Flippo calls the stuff on the counter specimens.

  “Let’s define specimen,” she says as she looks it up on her computer dictionary so we can all see it on the screen in the front of the room.

  specimen (noun); plural: specimens an individual animal, plant, piece of a mineral, etc., used as an example of its species or type for scientific study or display.

  I decide I like this new word.

  The specimens on the long counter look really cool from where I sit. Miss Flippo says there are rocks with little bug fossils in them and a big hornets’ nest on a stick. There’s even a turtle shell with a crack in it. Miss Flippo says the poor turtle was hit by a truck while crossing the road.

  I stretch my neck to see from my seat at the front of the room, but there are too many specimens, and I’m too far away.

  “We’ll take turns in the Science Lab today,” Miss Flippo says. “Everyone will get an opportunity to examine each specimen. You may want to use a magnifying glass, which you will find in the top drawer of the lab table.”

  Then, Miss Flippo gives us a challenge. I like challenges.

  She says that we should look for specimens in nature and bring them in to add to the counter. There’s only one rule: living specimens must be in proper containers. That means no creepy-crawly things running around loose.

  It seems like forever until it’s my turn to go to the Science Lab. I can hardly concentrate on my morning work and my spelling list.

  Just before lunch, Miss Flippo calls me, Bridget, Carl, and Stewart to go examine the specimens. I hurry to get there first, remembering the rule about walking feet.

  “Put on your lab coat,” I remind everyone, and they get the white lab coats off the hooks and put them on. “Put on your safety goggles, too.”

  But Stewart says, “We don’t need safety goggles to examine specimens.”

  I start to argue with him, when he adds, “Miss Flippo said we didn’t.”

  I put mine on anyway. I like to wear them.

  Bridget and I take some fossil rocks and use the magnifying glasses to make the tiny fossils look really, really big!

  Except that it’s hard to see clearly through the magnifying glass with the goggles on my eyes. I push them up on my head instead. At least I’m still wearing them.

  Stewart is peeking inside the hole in the hornets’ nest.

  I imagine that there’s one little sleepy hornet still inside there, and that it comes out and lands right on Stewart Swinefest’s freckled nose! I guess I do imagine things a
fter all. I’ll have to tell Cora. She’ll be so proud of me.

  No hornet dive-bombs Stewart’s face. The nest must be empty.

  The lunch bell rings way too soon, and everyone lines up at the door. Even me. Except I forget to take off my lab coat and goggles.

  “Lucy.” Miss Flippo smiles at me. “You look just like a real scientist!”

  I grin really big at Stewart. He rolls his eyes at me.

  I knew I was going to like this Miss Flippo!

  Chapter Nine

  Miss Flippo is Out of This World

  During lunch, the sky outside Granite City Elementary School gets dark, and it starts to rain. Everyone is grumbly about having indoor recess, but when we get back to Room 2-C, we see that Miss Flippo has everyone’s ALL-ABOUT-ME Trees hanging in the hallway.

  “There’s mine!” Cora points, but she doesn’t have to. Hers is easy to spot. She has glued pink pom-poms to the end of each branch. I stop in front of it and read. Hmm. Cora’s favorite vegetable is asparagus? I thought I knew everything about my cousin. Now, here’s something I could have guessed: Under “When I Grow Up, I Want to Be,” Cora has written “Princess Cora of Granite City.”

  I look everywhere for Georgia’s ALL-ABOUT-ME Tree. I find it beside Stewart Swinefest’s. Georgia’s favorite color is yellow. Her favorite vegetable is okra. Okra? Never tasted it. Whoa! Georgia has never seen more than an inch of snow. (Just wait until she sees Granite City in January!) When she grows up she wants to be a surgeon or a pharmacist or a marine biologist.

  Stewart’s ALL-ABOUT-ME Tree is just what I expected. Favorite way to spend an afternoon: Wrestling with his brothers. Favorite movie: The Monster That Ate Illinois. Favorite Book: Don’t like to read. When I Grow Up, I Want to be: Rich and Famous.

  When I’ve had enough of Stewart Swinefest, I move on. Bridget was born in New York City. Logan loves the color orange. Ajay’s name means victory. Carl has a tarantula.

  I like bugs of all kinds, but I’ve never thought of having a pet tarantula. Maybe Carl will bring it to school for sharing time. That would be cool.