Deon smirked. “You are really bad at that, you know.”
There were already half a dozen pretzel nuggets on the floor.
“Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up before we go,” Connor said.
“That’s right, you will,” Deon said. “But first, read out loud what we’ve got so far.”
Connor picked up his notebook.
He coughed and began to read. “Deep in his remote hideout.”
Connor stopped reading. He set down the notebook and looked at Deon.
Deon looked back. “That’s it?”
“So far,” Connor said.
“It’s not bad,” Deon said.
“Not bad is pretty good,” Connor reasoned. “Maybe we should take a break.”
Deon shook his head. “We can do this, Connor. We’ve just got to work at it. Look at the popularity of superhero movies—all making huge money. Iron Man, Thor, Batman, Ant-Man, Black Panther. We need to come up with our own action hero.”
Connor leaned forward. He brought his elbows to his knees, tucked his fists under his chin. “Let’s think of different animals. We can’t use bats and spiders or ants, obviously.”
Deon nodded. “Already taken. What about . . . Gorilla Man?”
“Too much like Tarzan,” Connor replied. “The rhino?”
“Nah,” Deon replied. “I think that’s one of the bad guys in the Spider-Man comics. He crashes into walls or something.”
“Rats,” Connor groaned.
“Rat Man?” Deon said, eyebrows raised.
“Sounds too much like Batman,” Connor said. He tossed another pretzel into the air, lunged to his left, and the nugget hit him in the eye. It seemed to give him an idea.
“I’ve got it!” Connor exclaimed. “How about . . . SLUG MAN!”
Deon’s eyebrows arched. “What’s his superpower?”
“He slimes people!” Connor said.
Inspired, Deon snatched up his markers. He drew a crude picture of a bad guy trapped in green ooze. Deon added a word balloon: “DRATS! I’ve been oozed by green crud!”
“Great writing!” Connor said, patting Deon on the back. “What about, like, I don’t know, if you added a big long trail of slime?”
“Genius,” Deon said, giggling. He reached for a green marker.
“What other powers should he have?” Connor wondered. He snapped his fingers. “Hey, slugs have those weird antennae, don’t they? Maybe he can hear stuff that’s far away?”
“Yeah,” Deon said. “He, like, senses vibrations in the galaxy.”
That’s how the two friends spent the next hour, laughing, snickering, drawing, and writing. But after a while, their comic book lost steam. Slugs were kind of boring, they eventually decided, even ones with superpowers.
“It kind of looks like a giant booger,” Deon conceded.
“Yeah, I see what you mean,” Connor said, frowning. “Maybe a slug with superpowers is not what America needs right now. These million-dollar ideas are tough.”
Oh well. At least the two friends had a good time.
Connor never did catch a pretzel nugget in his mouth.
— CHAPTER 5 —
Inspired
Miss Isadora Bliss Zipsokowski—known as Miss Zips—stood outside room 312, greeting her students as they entered the classroom.
“Morning . . . morning . . . how ya doing?” she’d say, smiling at each and every student who came down the hall. Even the grumpy ones. Miss Zips was long and lanky and had a small, sharp nose and large feet.
Her students loved her. They knew that even though Miss Zips could be tough, she cared about them. No matter what, no matter who. She even seemed to enjoy Otis Smick, who drove other teachers crazy. It wasn’t Otis’s fault. He didn’t mean to be a headache. It just came naturally.
“Good morning, Kym,” Miss Zips said. “How was your weekend?”
Kym stopped in her tracks to look up, and up, at her very tall teacher. “Inspiring,” Kym said with a big smile. “Two thumbs up!”
“Inspiring? I like the sound of that,” Miss Zips said.
“Lizzy and I visited a farm with my parents,” Kym continued. “I had the best time ever. And, oh, we met a queen.”
“A queen!” Miss Zips exclaimed, bringing her hands to her face. “You’ll have to tell us about it later in class. But we better duck inside. It’s almost time for the bell.”
After Kym got herself sorted out at the cubbies, she sat down at her table. Miss Zips called it a table, but really it was just four desks smooshed together. Each month Miss Zips had the students change seats. This month wasn’t a perfect arrangement from Kym’s point of view. The other kids at her table were Connor (he was nice), Suri Brewster (a little too perfect), and Otis Smick (ugh).
Otis wasn’t bad, truthfully. He meant well. Kym had to resist the urge to brush his hair, though. What a mess!
“Hey, Kym,” Connor said. “I heard you guys had fun at the farm.”
“Yeah, it was great,” Kym replied.
“HI, KYM! WANT TO SWAP LUNCHES TODAY? I HAVE LIVERWURST!” Otis said. (His voice was always a half shout.)
“Morning, Otis,” Kym replied without enthusiasm. She ignored his question. Kym Park was not the type of person who would swap lunches with Otis Smick. Not happening. No way. So she busied herself by organizing her folders and lining up her pencils. “Oh, Connor, I forgot to ask.” Kym lowered her voice to a whisper. “How did it go with your top-secret project?”
Connor shrugged. “Our superhero turned out to be a super dud.”
“Oh?”
“Slug Man,” Connor said.
Kym laughed. “Seriously?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Connor said with a grin. “Making up a superhero is harder than I realized. All the good animals are already taken—bats and panthers and spiders and stuff.”
“What about bees?” Kym asked.
Connor shrugged. “There’s a wasp hero, but I don’t think there are any bees.”
“There should be!” Kym suggested. “Honeybees are amazing.”
“Bees are scary,” Suri interjected. “I’m not a fan.”
Poor bees, Kym thought. So misunderstood.
Connor pondered for a moment. “Bee Man,” he said in a deep voice. He liked the sound of it.
“BEE MAN!” Otis Smick shouted. “HIS STINGER KILLS THE WORLD! BOO-YAH!” Otis pumped both fists in the air.
Kym sighed.
“Or Bee Woman,” Kym pointed out. “Doesn’t have to be a man to be a hero. Besides, only female bees have stingers. The males are called drones. Pretty useless, if you ask me.”
“Darn,” Otis Smick muttered. He didn’t shout, for a change.
— CHAPTER 6 —
The Beginning of an Idea
The playground behind Clay Elementary covered a sprawling area of open field and shady slopes, featuring balance beams and climbing walls, swing sets and monkey bars, and, closest to the building, a basketball court. On this April afternoon, students ran around in T-shirts and shorts. They shouted and laughed, free from winter at last. A boisterous group jostled on the basketball court, Padma Bitar and a few friends laughed by the buddy bench, and Bobby Mumford quietly organized a row of small stones.
Four friends—Connor, Deon, Lizzy, and Kym—gathered in conversation. They could feel it: the beginning of an idea.
A big idea.
Kym talked the most. And when she was done, Deon nodded. “Let’s go talk to the Zipster.”
“Now?” Kym said. “It’s recess.”
Deon didn’t even glance back to answer. He just headed into the school. His friends followed. They ran into Miss Zips in the hallway.
“What’s up?” she asked. The teacher checked her wristwatch. “You guys still have ten minutes of recess, then Mr. Sanders will be bringing you to music.”
“We were hoping . . .” Kym’s voice faltered.
Miss Zips carried a thick stack of student journals in her right arm. She
shifted to rest them on her hip.
“We wanted to talk to you about something,” Lizzy spoke up.
Miss Zips glanced down the hall in the direction of the teacher’s lounge. She began, “I had hoped to use this time to grade . . .” Then Miss Zips looked down at Kym, who stared back with imploring eyes. Miss Zips shifted the heavy books to her other arm. And in that time she made a decision. “Sure,” she said, smiling. “I can always read essays at home. Let’s talk in the classroom—as long as you don’t mind if I eat my lunch while we do it.”
Once settled at her desk, Miss Zips popped open a plastic container of mixed fruit. “Is this about the honeybees?” she asked.
Lizzy was surprised. “How’d you know?”
“Oh, someone was buzzing in my ear earlier today,” Miss Zips said, shifting her eyes to Kym.
“Yeah, we’re into bees now, I guess,” Connor said. He didn’t seem convinced.
“Forgive me, I’m still not clear,” Miss Zips said. “What is it that you want?”
Kym looked at Connor, Deon, and Lizzy. They all seemed to be waiting for her to take the lead. “We want people to learn more about honeybees,” Kym said, her voice a bit firmer than usual. “We want people to like them. We want”—she paused—“to make a difference.”
Miss Zips put down her spoon. She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Wow,” she said, bringing a hand to her heart. “That was amazing, Kym. You just wowed me. How can I help?”
Kym talked about the importance of honeybees. And about colony collapse disorder. She even pointed out the fruit that Miss Zips was eating. “Without bees, it would be very hard to find blueberries, apples, and oranges.”
“Yes, I agree with you. It seems to me that you want to convince your classmates that bees are important,” Miss Zips said.
“Not just classmates,” Deon said, holding open his arms wide. “The entire galaxy.”
Miss Zips laughed. “Oh, Deon. You do think big. Let’s start small and see how it goes.”
“What’s bigger?” Deon wondered. “A galaxy, a solar system, or the universe?”
“Your mouth,” Connor joked.
“I heard that!” Deon said. He tilted his head back and opened his mouth wide like a baby bird in a nest.
“Focus, Deon,” Lizzy said. “We’re talking about bees, please.”
“Deon’s right,” Connor interjected. “Why stop with just our classmates? Why not teach the whole school? I mean, if you think it would be okay, Miss Zips.”
“The whole school,” Miss Zips echoed. “Well, you can certainly try to convince all of Clay Elementary that honeybees are wonderful. That’s fine and good. But let’s think deeper. What are you hoping to achieve?”
The students looked at their teacher with blank faces.
Miss Zips prodded: “Ask yourselves, What do you want your fellow students to do?”
Lizzy shrugged.
“We haven’t gotten that far,” Kym admitted.
“Do you want to persuade them to become beekeepers?” Miss Zips asked.
Connor raised two hands. “Yeah, not happening. Bees are cool and everything, but that’s a hard no.”
“We want them to care,” Kym offered.
“Care? Okay, fine. But what action do you want them to take? I think you need to give this more thought. Do some research. Try to find specific things that students can do to help the honeybees.”
Back at their desks, waiting for Mr. Sanders to bring them to music class, Deon shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he groaned.
“What?” asked Connor.
“Typical Zipster,” Deon whispered. “Every time we ask her for help, she gives us homework.”
“We’ll meet in the library after school,” Kym announced. She reached into her desk, pulled out a book, and started reading. It was about honeybees.
— CHAPTER 7 —
The Return of Otis Smick
“Listen to this, it’s so cool,” Connor said as he read from a library book. “‘Bees have five eyes and’—get this!—‘worker bees can make wax from their abdomen.’”
“Wax! That’s crazy,” Deon gushed. And after a pause, he asked, “Um, what’s an abdomen?”
“It’s a stomach, I think,” Connor said. “Like abs, you know?”
“Here’s a good one,” Deon said. “Bees were alive in the time of the dinosaurs. That’s seriously old. They must be tough. It’s weird they are disappearing now. I wonder why.”
Connor looked up. “Here comes Kym and Lizzy.” He scooted over to make room. The four friends sat in their favorite spot at the town library—a comfy horseshoe-shaped couch tucked in the corner of the building. Books and art supplies were scattered on the table, on the floor, everywhere.
“I hereby call to order today’s meeting of the Big Idea Gang,” Lizzy announced. “BIG for short. What have you got so far?”
“We’ve been gathering bee facts,” Connor said. “And I have to admit it. A bee will definitely make a good comic-book hero.”
Kym leafed through Deon’s scribbled drawings on the table. “That’s it? You guys have spent all your time writing a comic book?”
“We were inspired,” Deon explained.
“We’re here to save the bees,” Kym protested. “Not draw pictures.”
“Hey, leave us alone. Bee Girl is super cool—she has a sack of venom and a stinger,” Connor said. “She can flap her wings two hundred and thirty times per second. That’s nuts. If we want people to like bees, a comic book might help.”
“My brother actually has a point,” Lizzy admitted.
“I do?” Connor said.
“WHAT’S UP, DUDES!” a loud voice interrupted.
It was Otis Smick.
“IT’S CRAZY YOU DUDES ARE HERE! GUESS WHAT? I AM TOO!” he barked.
“Otis, what are you doing in the library?” Kym asked.
“THE 3-D PRINTER,” Otis said. “THERE’S A MAKER ROOM IN THE BACK.”
Kym smiled weakly. She waited for Otis to leave.
Otis didn’t move.
He stood gaping at them. Mouth open. Mop of hair in his face.
“WHAT ARE YOU DUDES DOING?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Kym replied.
But Connor said, “We’re trying to save the world one bee at a time. Want to help?”
Kym shot Connor the evil eye. But before she could utter a word in protest, Otis howled, “AWESOMESAUCE!” He plopped himself on the couch.
Even Kym had to laugh at Otis Smick’s enthusiasm. He was like a Labrador retriever chasing after a tennis ball.
Lizzy had a suggestion. “Maybe we could make a list of fun facts about honeybees. Connor and Deon have already gotten off to a great start.”
“LISTS ARE AWESOMESAUCE!” commented Otis, nodding happily.
“Er, yes,” Lizzy said, taking Kym by the hand. “Meanwhile, I need to borrow Kym for a minute.”
“CAN I COME?” Otis bounded forward.
Kym’s left eyelid twitched.
Lizzy smiled. “Thanks, Otis. But it’s better if you help the guys. Kym and I need to speak in private.”
“COOL! SURE!” Otis replied. “THAT’S AWE—”
“Awesomesauce,” Lizzy said. “Yeah, we know.”
Lizzy steered Kym toward the front doors. Suddenly, she stopped. “Otis?” she asked, turning back to look at the mop-haired boy.
“YEAH?”
“I was wondering. Do you like bees?” Lizzy asked.
Otis shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”
“How would you help them?” Lizzy asked. “I mean, if you wanted to help them? What would you do?”
Otis raised his palms to the sky. “WHO KNOWS?”
Lizzy nodded, satisfied. “Thanks, Otis. You’ve been very helpful.”
“I HAVE?” Otis seemed surprised. He wasn’t called “helpful” very often.
“Oh, yes,” Lizzy said. She gave Kym a gentle tug and again the two girls headed to the doors that led outside.
“T
hank you,” Kym whispered as the girls walked away. “Otis drives me bananas.”
“I think he likes you,” Lizzy said, teasing.
“Ugh, oh no,” Kym groaned.
“He’s sweet,” Lizzy said.
“He’s a caveman,” Kym muttered.
“Perhaps,” Lizzy agreed. “But he’s an awfully sweet caveman.”
— CHAPTER 8 —
Bee the Change
“Let’s talk outside. It’s a gorgeous day,” Lizzy said.
The girls stepped outside and found a shady spot on the grass. Behind them, a man in blue overalls dragged an iron rake through the flower beds. A woman in a straw hat knelt on her hands and knees, digging in the dirt.
“You know what we need, don’t you?” Lizzy asked.
Kym said she didn’t know.
“Ozzie,” Lizzy replied.
“What do you mean?” Kym asked.
“Think about it, Kym. He could come to our school and give a talk about honeybees,” Lizzy suggested. “That would get everyone excited.”
“I don’t know,” Kym demurred. When it came to asking for things, Kym wasn’t confident. She wasn’t afraid of bees, but speaking up, for Kym, was a lot scarier.
“What are you worried about?” Lizzy asked. “It’s Ozzie! He’s friends with your parents. He loves bees! I bet he’d be happy to visit our school. It can’t hurt to ask.”
“We can’t assume Principal Tuxbury will let us,” Kym countered.
Lizzy waved a hand. “Of course he will. Mr. Tuxbury loves that stuff, you know that. He’s always bringing in experts.”
Scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch. The gardener raked through the dirt, stirring it up after winter’s long sleep.
“You know what? I wish we could have a hive at school,” Kym said.
“I doubt Principal Tuxbury would go for that,” Lizzy said.
“I guess you’re right,” Kym said. The girls lapsed into silence. Kym plucked a yellow dandelion from the grass and turned it in her fingers. “Hey, Lizzy,” she said. “Why were you asking Otis if he liked bees?”
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