Ms. Endee shook her head emphatically. She wasn’t having it. “Megan,” she began, “you’re one of the brighter and more responsible students in this class. You and Alexis should be able to work together. There’s no reason in the world why you two can’t get along.”
“It’s not that I don’t get along with her,” Megan insisted. “It’s that she doesn’t get along with me.”
“Megan, I expect you to make this collaboration work. I’m not reassigning science fair partners based on a popularity contest. I expect you and Alexis to put aside your differences and do the work at hand.”
“Yes, Ms. Endee,” Megan said obediently, even though she wasn’t feeling particularly obedient at all. She felt a little ashamed for complaining about Alexis in the first place, but mostly she felt disappointed by the prospect of being matched with the mean girl as a science fair partner. Clearly she was stuck with Alexis whether she liked it or not.
• • •
Ms. Endee set aside the last hour of the school day for the students to meet with their collaborators and brainstorm ideas. As Megan glanced about, she noticed the other students were chattering animatedly. She saw Tracy and Maya talking, deep into plans for a project titled “Snails: Friend or Foe?” Kaitlyn and Sawyer had decided to examine “Why Some Dogs Prefer Cat Food over Dog Food.” Rainbows, constellations, and magnets were as popular as ever.
Ms. Endee smiled at all the commotion. Normally, she would have asked the students to keep the volume down, but she was pleased with the lively exchange of ideas around the classroom.
Megan and Alexis, on the other hand, sat in silence.
“I don’t know how to talk to you,” Megan said at last.
“I don’t know how to talk to you, either,” Alexis replied, apparently satisfied with the stalemate.
Megan didn’t expect the conversation to go any further, but then, to her surprise, Alexis continued. “Last year when I went to school in Houston,” she abruptly blurted, “I did a science fair project about the tide. Every afternoon I went to the beach and I measured the tide.”
“That won’t work here,” said Megan. “We don’t have an ocean.”
“It wasn’t an ocean,” said Alexis. “It was the Gulf of Mexico.”
“Whatever,” said Megan, flipping a hand.
“Well, you come up with an idea,” said Alexis.
“I’m trying,” Megan said with annoyance. “Nothing’s coming up.”
Alexis bent to the side to reach under her desk for her pencil pouch. Megan couldn’t help but notice that the pencil pouch was purple.
“You like purple?” she asked Alexis.
“It’s all right,” said Alexis, without a great deal of enthusiasm. She pulled a novelty pencil out of her pouch—a double-thick pencil with shiny foil squares up and down the sides. Megan noticed that the pencil was purple too.
“You like purple more than you think,” Megan offered.
Alexis only shrugged. She wrote her e-mail address on a piece of paper and handed it to Megan. “Here’s my e-mail,” she said. “Shoot me a message if you come up with an idea later.”
“We’re supposed to do this together,” said Megan. “I’m not supposed to do your work for you.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Alexis protested. “I just figured we should stay in touch.”
Megan sighed dramatically. This collaboration was doomed. At that moment Cindy crashed their meeting, slamming herself against Megan’s desk with a cheery “Oops, sorry!” Then she said, “Sooooo, how’s it going?”
“Awful,” said Megan. “We don’t have a single idea. How about you?”
“Tony Rosenblum and I have got it all planned,” said Cindy. “We’re comparing the absorption rate of different diapers. It’s kind of disgusting but also kind of perfect because Tony Rosenblum has a new baby brother and an endless supply of disposable diapers.”
“Perfect,” said Megan. “Lu-cky.”
Alexis tapped her purple pencil against the desktop but didn’t say a word.
Megan looked at Cindy and shrugged. The situation was hopeless.
By the time the bell rang, Megan and Alexis still didn’t have any ideas.
“Look,” said Alexis, in an exasperated last-ditch effort the moment before everyone hit the door, “let’s both come up with an idea tonight, and tomorrow we’ll vote on which one is our favorite.”
“That won’t work,” said Megan. “You’ll vote for your idea and I’ll vote for mine.”
“Good point,” Alexis allowed. “But maybe we’ll put our ideas together.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” said Megan with a dismissive flip of her hand.
“Good-bye class,” cried Ms. Endee. “See you tomorrow!”
Megan smiled at Ms. Endee and turned back to see that Alexis had loaded her purple pencil back into the purple pouch, had grabbed her backpack, and was already headed for the door—without even saying good-bye.
“It’s not going to work,” said Megan, looking at Cindy. “I’m being nice, but she’s being totally difficult.”
7
Surprise Purple
MEGAN HAD FIVE COOKBOOKS OPEN on the counter and was buried in the index of the sixth.
Matt walked into the kitchen and announced himself with a hearty belch.
“Ugh!” Megan groaned, disgusted at the smell and fanning the air with the open cookbook.
“What are you doing?” Matt asked.
“Nothing,” Megan said with exasperation. “Because I can’t find it in the cookbook.”
“Can’t find what?” asked Matt. “What are you trying to make?” He circled the counter to lean over Megan’s shoulder and focus on the cookbook.
“I’m looking for a recipe for purple frosting for my purple birthday cake,” said Megan. “But I looked under f for frosting and p for purple and I couldn’t find anything.” She snapped the cookbook shut. “Okay,” she allowed, “there are recipes listed under frosting but nothing that says ‘purple frosting.’ ”
“You make purple frosting out of eggplant,” Matt suggested. “Try looking under ‘eggplant.’ ”
Megan looked suspicious. “Will that work?” she asked, reaching for the cookbook once more.
“Eggplant frosting, my favorite!” Matt cried. “I used to beg Mom to make that all the time! She’d put it on cupcakes and I’d be the hero of the first grade.”
Megan eyed Matt with greater suspicion. Sarcasm was difficult to detect when a person was signing, but she was fairly convinced that Matt was being sarcastic.
Matt turned his back on Megan and walked to the cupboard. He returned to smack a box of food colors onto the counter directly in front of Megan.
“What’s this?” Megan asked.
“Food coloring, Einstein,” said Matt.
“I thought of that already,” Megan protested, “but food coloring doesn’t have purple.” She pushed the box away. “Food coloring has only red and blue and green and yellow.”
“Einstein,” Matt nagged. “Red and blue make purple.”
“I know that,” Megan snapped automatically, but then she brightened considerably. Megan hated being corrected, but she prided herself on being able to admit her mistakes. It hadn’t even occurred to her to mix the colors. “Of course!” Megan cried. “Red and blue make purple!” She lifted the red and the blue bottles from the box and shook them so that the dye sloshed inside. “Are you allowed to do that?” she asked Matt. “Is it really okay if you mix the colors?”
“Moms do it all the time,” said Matt. “But I don’t see why you want purple frosting, anyway. People aren’t going to like it. You’re only going to make their tongues purple.”
“Some people like purple tongues,” Megan insisted. “I know I do.” She was thinking of grape Popsicles in the summertime or grape lollipops at the doctor’s office and the way they always gave kids a chance to show off their tongues. She headed for the sink to add a quick splash of water to a juice glas
s.
“Blech,” said Matt, scrunching his face. “You might as well stick with the eggplant frosting. Face it, Megan. Not everybody likes purple!”
“But some people do,” Megan argued. She dripped two drops of red food coloring into the water and watched it dissolve. The water quickly turned a rosy shade of pink. She added two drops of blue. The colors swirled separately for a moment before Megan stuck her finger into the glass to give the solution a quick twirl.
“See, it’s purple,” said Matt, leaning forward to look at the purple water. “Just like I told you.”
“Funny how you think red and blue won’t get along,” said Megan. “Then you mix them together and—surprise! Purple!”
“And not a bad purple,” said Matt, considering the water. “It’s more violet, really.”
“See?” said Megan. “That proves it! People think they don’t like purple, and then they see it, and they love it!”
“That’s not what I said,” Matt protested. “I didn’t say I loved it.” But Megan had already leaped from the kitchen stool and thrown both hands into the air. She danced about as though she’d just been struck by the absolutely most excellent, most extraordinary, most brilliant idea.
“That’s it! I’ve got it!” Megan cried.
“Got what?”
“My science fair project!” said Megan. “I’m going to prove that purple is the greatest color of them all!” She gestured at the purple water. “See? See?” she asked. “Is this not the greatest science fair project idea of all time?”
“Hmm, yeah,” said Matt, dripping with sarcasm. “Sounds like the Nobel Prize to me.”
• • •
The following day Mr. Ryan visited Ms. Endee’s fourth-grade classroom to approve the science fair projects. Kids were generally encouraged to be creative with their experiments, but some kids needed guidance down more realistic paths. Melinda Bird and Kim Lewis, for example, wanted to build a rain forest by the school Dumpster.
“That’s a really great idea,” said Mr. Ryan, “but a rain forest takes a lot of dirt and a whole lot of trees.”
“I told you so,” said Kim to Melinda. “Too much dirt, too many trees, and too much water. Rain forests need lots of water. It’s a rain forest. Hello?”
“And how is the Dumpster truck going to reach the Dumpster if there’s a rain forest in the way?” asked Mr. Ryan.
“Okay, okay,” said Melinda. “We can build a suspension bridge instead.” Kim smiled because the suspension bridge had been her idea.
“A suspension bridge?” Mr. Ryan arched his eyebrows. “Where are you going to build that? In the school parking lot?”
“Just a little one,” Kim insisted. “Out of Popsicle sticks.”
Mr. Ryan brushed his hand across his forehead and issued a big “Whew!” as though he were really relieved.
Other kids, like Megan and Alexis, for example, needed help figuring out how to agree on any idea at all.
“Let me get this straight. ‘Purple is the greatest color.’ ” Mr. Ryan repeated Megan’s words. “How do you plan to prove that?”
“Just, I don’t know, ask people,” said Megan. “We’ll conduct a survey.”
“Uh-huh,” Mr. Ryan said, scratching his chin. In sign language Mr. Ryan was saying “old man” but Megan knew from the context of the conversation that he was simply thinking of a response. And she could tell by looking at him that he wasn’t sold on the idea of purple. “Not really much of an experiment,” he added.
“Well, it’s the only idea I had,” said Megan. She was determined to make it work even if she had to be stubborn to do it.
“Okay, hmmm,” Mr. Ryan said, turning toward Megan’s partner. “What’s your idea, Alexis?”
Megan sulked. Here we go, she thought. Mr. Ryan’s going to like Alexis’s idea better than mine.
“Hamsters,” said Alexis. “I like hamsters.”
“Hamsters?” blurted Megan. She brushed a finger across the tip of her nose almost like she was scratching whiskers. The gesture was sign language for the word “hamster.”
“Yes,” Alexis insisted. “Hamsters.” She pointed beyond Mr. Ryan to the hamster cage that Ms. Endee kept on the ledge behind her desk. The school hamster, known as Zippity, was a brown and white fur ball. At present he was curled in a ball, apparently asleep, at the bottom of the rodent wheel.
Mr. Ryan arched one of his wild eyebrows at Alexis. “Oh, sure,” he said, “all the kids love Zippity. Everybody loves the fur ball.” He leaned closer and tapped his pencil against a notepad. “But what is it about hamsters that makes them a good science fair project? What are you thinking?”
“I was just thinking a project about hamsters,” said Alexis. “What they eat and what they are and what they do and stuff.” She was afraid to say too much about her idea because she was afraid Megan would jump all over it.
And Megan did. “What is that? Isn’t that just like a book report on hamsters?” Megan asked. She flung her hands dismissively. “That’s not much of an experiment either,” she said.
“No, it’s not, really,” Mr. Ryan agreed. “Although I understand completely because I am quite fond of Zippity myself.” He lifted one hand and scratched his head. In sign language he was saying, “I’m thinking.” Which was exactly what he was doing.
Megan and Alexis looked at each other.
“Hamsters,” insisted Alexis.
“Purple,” insisted Megan.
“Hamsters!” said Alexis.
“Purple!” said Megan.
“I suppose . . . ,” said Mr. Ryan, interrupting the battle. He tapped his finger against his lip. In sign language it meant “be quiet,” but Mr. Ryan meant “listen to me.” “I suppose,” he repeated, dragging out the word because he was still thinking even as he spoke.
Megan and Alexis stopped bickering and waited for Mr. Ryan to get to the point.
“I suppose,” Mr. Ryan said, thinking and tapping, “you could do both.”
“Both?” said the girls in unison.
“Maybe you could study what hamsters think of purple. What’s their favorite color? Although I have to say we can’t exactly interview Zippity. I know because I’ve tried.” Mr. Ryan leaned toward Zippity with an imaginary microphone. “Hello, Zippity?” he said. “Zippity? Hello?”
Zippity didn’t even look up.
The girls giggled at the sight of Mr. Ryan interviewing Zippity with a microphone. The laughter helped get them over their problem.
“Maybe,” said Megan, “we could color the hamster’s food purple, and see if he eats it.” She was thinking of the red and blue food coloring, of course. Megan had quickly become an expert at mixing food colors to create purple. Just last night Megan’s mother had to insist at supper that nobody wanted to try purple mashed potatoes.
“Purple hamster food,” said Alexis. “Ick.”
“I know, ick,” agreed Mr. Ryan. “And hamsters only eat hamster food, so coloring it purple wouldn’t really prove anything.”
The girls fell silent for a moment.
“Maybe,” said Alexis, “we could give him the choice between a purple something and a different-colored something.”
“That might work,” said Mr. Ryan.
“Like balloons,” suggested Megan. She was thinking, of course, of the purple balloons she had bought for her birthday party—a great big bag of them—that night she saw Alexis at the store being so nasty to her cute little brother. “We could ask the hamster to choose between a red balloon and a purple balloon.”
“Hmmm,” said Alexis, not sold on the balloons.
“I know, hmmm,” echoed Mr. Ryan, not so sold on the idea himself.
“Or what about rooms?” suggested Megan, shooting from the hip. “A hamster could choose between different-colored rooms.”
“You mean like classrooms?” asked Mr. Ryan.
“Maybe,” said Megan. “I don’t know.” She kind of doubted that they’d be able to convince Ms. Endee to let them paint the
classroom purple.
“What about hamster-size rooms?” suggested Alexis.
Hamster-size rooms, thought Megan. She had to admit that it wasn’t a bad idea.
“But how do you get the hamster from one room to the other?” asked Mr. Ryan. “Are you just going to drop Zippity into a room and see how he reacts? Or are you going to give him a choice?”
“A maze!” cried Megan. “Let’s build him a maze!”
“A maze that leads to two or three different rooms,” added Alexis, already into the idea.
“And we can watch Zippity in the maze and keep track of how many times he goes to one room over another!” said Megan.
“We’ll keep a chart!” said Alexis.
The girls looked to Mr. Ryan for approval.
Mr. Ryan was already smiling. “Sounds like a science fair project to me,” he said.
• • •
Megan and Alexis met at a patio table outside the school library to hash out their ideas for the science fair project. Mr. Ryan had already agreed to let them take Zippity home in his cage for the weekend so that they could run him through the maze after it was built. “But you better not lose him,” Mr. Ryan said, after he poked the sleeping hamster with a finger as a way of saying good-bye. “Principal Smelter will have my hide if he finds out I lost Zippity.” The girls solemnly promised to take good care of the hamster over the weekend. The only problem was that they still didn’t have a maze.
“I’ve never built a maze before,” said Megan. “Have you?”
“I’ve never built one,” said Alexis, “but I was inside a maze once. It was a garden maze, so it was made out of hedges.”
Because Alexis didn’t know sign language, Megan had to rely on her lip-reading skills. But she understood Alexis well enough. “Cool,” Megan replied. “I saw a maze like that once in a movie. You get lost in a maze like that.”
“I liked it at first,” said Alexis, “but then it got scary and all I wanted was to get out.”
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