by Dan Gutman
“Watch out!” shouted Emily, covering her eyes.
“Run for your lives!” shouted Neil.
The Snowman started swinging the bucket around faster. And faster. The bucket was flying around him sideways. The Snowman looked like one of those cowboys at a rodeo who was about to rope a steer.
And then the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened.
Nothing! The maple syrup didn’t fly out of the bucket like I thought it would. It just stayed in there even though the bucket was sideways.
“WOW,” we all said, which is “MOM” upside down.
“It’s like magic!” I hollered.
“No, this is a demonstration of centripetal force,” said the Snowman. “When an object is moving in a circular path, centripetal force keeps it fixed on that path.”
“Cool!” we all said.
“Isn’t science interesting?” asked Mr. Docker.
“When I grow up,” Andrea said, “I’m going to be a scientist.”
“Me too,” said Emily, who always does everything Andrea does.
The Snowman kept swinging the bucket around and around. That’s when the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened. I guess the rope that was attached to the bucket came loose, because the next thing anybody knew, the bucket of maple syrup went flying off the roof!
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” shouted the Snowman as he fell down. He still had the rope in his hand, but the bucket was gone.
We all ran to the edge of the roof to look below. The bucket was on the grass in front of the school, and the sidewalk was covered with maple syrup.
“And that was a demonstration of centrifugal force,” said the Snowman. “No worries. I’ll clean that mess up later.”
“I’m glad nobody was walking around down there,” said Mr. Docker. “Somebody could have gotten hurt.”
That was weird. But if you think that was weird, you’ll never believe the weird thing that happened next.
I’m not going to tell you.
Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. But you have to read the next chapter. So nah-nah-nah boo-boo on you.
There was a table on the other side of the roof with a bunch of junk on it: pieces of cloth, bubble wrap, feathers, string, straws, tape, cotton balls, rubber bands, toilet paper tubes, plastic bags, Popsicle sticks, cardboard boxes, some Styrofoam, and a big box of Honey Sugar Bongos.
Oh, and there were also two cartons of eggs. That was weird.
“Why is all this stuff up here?” asked Ryan.
“We’re going to do a science project,” said the Snowman. “I call it The Great Egg Drop Challenge.”
“We’re going to eat egg drop soup?” Ryan asked. “Yum!”
“No,” said the Snowman. “We’re going to drop eggs off the roof!”
He was rubbing his hands together again, a sure sign that he’s crazy.
“Why is dropping eggs off the roof a science project?” asked Andrea.
“Well,” said the Snowman, “if you drop an egg off the roof onto the sidewalk below, what do you think will happen?”
“The egg will break,” we all replied. Duh!
“Right!” said the Snowman. “The sidewalk is much harder than the egg’s shell. So we need to think of a way to prevent the egg from breaking at the end of its fall.”
“How can we do that?” asked Alexia.
“There are lots of ways,” said the Snowman. “Each of you is going to design a package using the things on this table to protect your egg from a fall. We’ll record the results. Then we’ll discuss which packages worked, which ones didn’t, and why. That way you’ll learn about gravity, velocity, inertia, and acceleration.”
I didn’t know what any of that stuff meant. But it didn’t matter, because throwing anything off a roof is cool. We all got to work figuring out ways to protect our eggs.
Emily wrapped a bunch of rubber bands around her egg. “When my egg hits the sidewalk, it will bounce,” she said, “but it won’t break.”
Ryan put his egg in a little cardboard box and filled the box with feathers. “The feathers will cushion my egg,” he said, “so it won’t break when it hits the sidewalk.”
Michael put his egg inside a plastic bag and surrounded the egg with foam peanuts. “My egg will move inside the bag when it hits the sidewalk,” he said, “but not enough to hit the hard surface and break.”
Andrea made a little parachute out of some cloth and string. Then she put her egg in a basket that hung below the parachute. “If I can make my egg fall more slowly,” she said, “it won’t crack when it hits the ground.”
Neil wrapped his egg in bubble wrap and cotton balls. Alexia put her egg inside a piece of Styrofoam and taped it shut. I put my egg inside the box of Honey Sugar Bongos. That’s my favorite cereal. The cereal has so much sugar on it, you might as well pour sugar right from a sugar bowl into your mouth.
“You all have such good ideas!” said the Snowman. “I can see how some of you could become great scientists someday.”
“Is there a prize for the student whose egg doesn’t break?” asked Little Miss I-Always-Want-to-Win-Something.
“Yes,” said the Snowman. “You get to bring your egg home with you.”
“What if all the eggs break?” asked Emily.
“Then lunch will be scrambled eggs today,” said the Snowman. “Are you ready?”
“Ready!” we all shouted.
“Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .” The Snowman started counting down. “You’re going to learn about Newton’s First and Second Laws. . . .”
“HUH?” we all said, which is also “HUH” backward.
“Seven . . . six . . . five . . . ,” the Snowman continued. “An object at rest will remain at rest unless acted on by an unbalanced force.”
What?!
“Four . . . three . . . two . . . ,” said the Snowman. “An object in motion continues in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.”
I had no idea what he was talking about.
“One . . . zero . . . okay, let ’em fly!”
“Bombs away!” I shouted as I threw the box of Honey Sugar Bongos off the roof.
That’s when the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened.
There was a thud down below, and then a scream.
“Eeeeeeeeeek!”
We all rushed over to the edge of the roof. And you’ll never believe what we saw down on the sidewalk in front of the school.
It was Mrs. Ella Mentry, the old lady who our school was named after! She was flat on her back.
“Help!” she shouted. “I’m under attack!”
“Uh-oh,” said the Snowman.
Dr. Snow and Mr. Docker went running down the stairs as fast as they could go. We all followed them. I was huffing and puffing and sweating and panting when we got down to the first floor. Then we ran out the front door of the school.
Mrs. Mentry was still lying on the ground. Her eyes were closed, and she had pieces of egg all over her.
“Oh no,” shouted Alexia. “Ella Mentry is dead!”
“We killed her!” shouted Neil.
Everybody was yelling and screaming and freaking out.*
But Mrs. Mentry wasn’t dead, and we didn’t kill her. I know that for sure, because after a few seconds her eyes opened.
“Are you okay, Mrs. Mentry?” asked Mr. Docker.
“No, I’m not okay!” shouted Mrs. Mentry angrily. “What idiot spread maple syrup all over the sidewalk? I think my leg may be broken!”
“I was trying to teach the students about centripetal force,” explained the Snowman.
“By putting maple syrup on the sidewalk!?” shouted Mrs. Mentry.
“B-b-but . . . ,” said the Snowman and Mr. Docker.
I started giggling because they both said “but,” which sounds just like “butt” even though it only has one t.
“And what did you teach the students by throwing eggs off the roof?�
�� shouted Mrs. Mentry as she removed a piece of eggshell from her face.
“Uh . . . gravity, velocity, acceleration—”
“Isn’t there some other way to teach those things?” shouted Mrs. Mentry. “I got hit on the head with a box of Honey Sugar Bongos!”
Everybody looked at me because they knew I threw the box of Honey Sugar Bongos off the roof.
I was wondering what happened to my egg. If Ella Mentry’s head was softer than the sidewalk, maybe my egg didn’t crack when the box of Honey Sugar Bongos landed on her. But this didn’t seem like the right time to open the box and find out.
“Why is it that every time I come to this school I get attacked by flying food?” shouted Ella Mentry.
“B-b-but . . . ,” said the Snowman and Mr. Docker.
“That’s it!” said Mrs. Mentry. “Get me out of here! I need to call my lawyer! This is the last straw!”
Huh? I didn’t know we ran out of straws. What did straws have to do with anything anyway?
“B-b-but . . .”
“I didn’t donate a million dollars to this school so the students could throw food at me every time I visit!” Mrs. Mentry shouted. “I want my money back!”
“B-b-but . . .”
They sure say “but” a lot.
Mrs. Mentry was really mad when all those eggs landed on her. We tried to pick the shells out of her clothes, but she was a gooey mess. I guess the yolk was on her!
It looked like she was going to totally freak out, but you’ll never believe who came running out of the school at that moment.
It was Mr. Klutz, our principal! He has no hair at all. I mean none. If they gave out prizes to people who have the least amount of hair, Mr. Klutz would win.
“I am soooooo sorry!” Mr. Klutz said to Ella Mentry.
“I want my money back,” she barked as she brushed more eggshells off her dress. “I slipped on maple syrup and was attacked by flying eggs! Take my name off the front of the building! You owe me a million dollars! You’re lucky I don’t sue!”
“Now, now, Mrs. Mentry,” said Mr. Klutz. “There, there.”
Grown-ups always say “now now” and “there there” when they want to calm down an angry person. Nobody knows why.
But I guess it must have worked, because Mrs. Mentry calmed down. An ambulance came to take her to the hospital. Before it drove away, Mr. Klutz promised her that she would never get attacked by flying food again. He also invited her to be his special guest at the science fair.
“Please don’t make us give back the million dollars,” begged Mr. Klutz. “We need that money. It’s for . . . the children.”
He was making a sad puppy dog face, so we knew he was really desperate.*
“I’ll think about it,” Mrs. Mentry said. She was still mad.
After that, we went inside for lunch. Everybody felt bad about what happened to Mrs. Mentry. I felt worse than anyone because I’m the one who hit her in the head with a box of Honey Sugar Bongos. I wanted to go to Antarctica and live with the penguins.
Nobody was talking much while we ate our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It was quiet in the vomitorium. After lunch, we went out for recess, but nobody was in the mood to play.
“What do you want to do?” Ryan asked.
“I don’t know,” said Michael. “What do you want to do?”
“Let’s play Talk Like a Grown-up,” I suggested.
Talk Like a Grown-up is one of my favorite games. All you have to do is talk like a grown-up, so it has the perfect name.
“You start, A.J.,” said Alexia.
“Nice weather we’re having,” I said.
“It’s lovely,” said Alexia. “They say it may rain on Friday.”
“How is your lawn?” asked Neil. “Mine needs watering.”
“I want more money,” I said.
“You’re fired!” said Alexia.
“I need to lose ten pounds,” said Ryan, “and my hair is falling out.”
“If I don’t get coffee, I’ll die,” said Michael.
“Do you want to play golf?” asked Alexia.
“Not now,” I said. “I have to read the newspaper.”
“My back hurts,” said Neil.
“My feet hurt,” said Michael.
“Everything hurts,” said Alexia.
“I need to trim my nose hair,” I said.
Man, talking like a grown-up is boring. I hope I never grow up to be a grown-up.
Little Miss Perfect and her crybaby friend, Emily, must have been listening, because they came over to annoy us, as usual.
“It’s not nice to make fun of grown-ups,” said Andrea. “You’ll be a grown-up someday, Arlo.”
“No way!” I insisted.
“Grown-ups are weird,” said Ryan.
“Speaking of weird grown-ups,” said Alexia, “what’s the deal with Dr. Snow?”
“I don’t trust that guy,” I said. “I still say he’s crazy, with that frizzy psycho hair and those crazy eyes. I think he wants to take over the world.”
“That’s ridiculous, Arlo,” said Andrea. “Stop trying to scare Emily.”
“I’m scared,” said Emily.
“Maybe he had us attack Mrs. Mentry with eggs on purpose,” Alexia suggested. “Did you ever think of that? Maybe it wasn’t a science project at all.”
“Yeah,” I told the group. “That was just the beginning of his secret plan for worldwide domination.”
“We’ve got to do something!” shouted Emily, and then she ran away.
“Dr. Snow has got to go,” I said.
Then I got up and started chanting “DR. SNOW HAS GOT TO GO! DR. SNOW HAS GOT TO GO!”
I thought everybody was going to get up and start chanting with me. But nobody got up. Nobody started chanting. I hate when that happens.
“A.J., if what you say is true,” said Alexia, “there’s only one thing we can do.”
“What’s that?”
“We’ve got to get some dirt on Dr. Snow,” Alexia told me.
“Why would we want to get dirt on him?” I asked. “Then he’d just be covered with dirt.”
Andrea rolled her eyes. “Alexia means we should find out some bad things that Dr. Snow did,” said Andrea. “Then we can blackmail him.”
“What’s blackmail?” asked Michael.
“That’s what grown-ups do to people when they find out bad things about them,” said Andrea.
“We should sneak around and stalk the Snowman,” said Neil. “Maybe we can catch him red-handed doing bad things.”
Neil should get the Nobel Prize. That’s a prize they give out to people who don’t have bells.
Sneaking around is cool. We snuck around the playground fence until we reached the back door of the school. Then we snuck inside like we were secret agents, hugging the walls and looking in both directions to make sure nobody was following us.
“We should be wearing night vision goggles,” I whispered.
“Why?” asked Neil. “It’s daytime.”
“Who cares?” I replied. “Night vision goggles are cool.”
We snuck up and down the hallways looking for the Snowman, but we couldn’t find him.
“He’s probably hiding in a secret lab where he does his evil experiments,” I whispered.
We passed by the teachers’ lounge. That’s a room where no kids are allowed, but the teachers can get pedicures and play Ping-Pong all day. I peeked through the little window in the door.
That’s when I saw him. The Snowman! He was sitting all by himself.
“Pssssst! He’s in here!” I whispered.
“Okay, what’s the plan?” whispered Alexia.
“This is the plan,” I said. Then I yanked open the door and burst into the teachers’ lounge.
“Freeze, dirtbag!” I shouted.
That’s what policemen always shout on TV when they sneak up on bad guys. Nobody knows why.
The Snowman was completely surprised. He dropped his sandwich onto the fl
oor.
“Aha!” I shouted. “We caught you red-handed, Snowman!”
“I beg your pardon?” the Snowman asked.
“I have one question for you,” I told him. “Do you have any bells?”
“Uh, I have a doorbell at my house,” said the Snowman. “Why do you ask?”
“Just as I suspected!” I said. “You can’t be a real scientist. They give the Nobel Prize to scientists who don’t have bells. But you have a bell, so that proves that you’re not a real scientist. You’re a fake. A phony!”
“Are you kids allowed to be in the teachers’ lounge?” asked Dr. Snow. “Shouldn’t you be at recess?”
“Stop trying to change the subject, Snowman!” I barked. “What are you doing in here?”
“I was trying to eat my lunch,” he replied, picking his sandwich up off the floor.
“Yeah, sure,” I told him. “That’s what they all say. We know what you’re up to, Snowman. You planned that attack on Mrs. Mentry so you could shut down the school. It’s all part of your evil plot to take over the world!”
“What?!” he said. “B-b-but . . .”
We all started giggling because he said “butt” with one t.
“Dr. Snow was just eating his lunch, Arlo,” said Andrea. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”
Maybe so, but I still didn’t trust him. Neither did Alexia.
“I’ve got my eye on you, Snowman!” she said.
That was weird. Why would you want to put your eye on somebody? That’s kind of gross.
So we still had to get some dirt on the Snowman. But how?
“We need to play it cool,” Alexia said. “Let’s just pretend everything is normal. The Snowman will show his true colors. Then we can nail him.”
Huh? What do colors have to do with anything? People talk funny.
That afternoon, we had library class with Mrs. Roopy. We walked a million hundred miles to the media center, which used to be called the library before they changed the name. Nobody knows why.
When we got to the media center, Mrs. Roopy wasn’t there. Instead, there was some guy who looked a lot like Mrs. Roopy with a beard. She’s always pretending to be somebody else. One time, she dressed up like Neil Armstrong. Mrs. Roopy is loopy.