by Kate Messner
“So, Mia …,” Eli said after Zoya’s introduction. “Do you want to work on KicksFinder with Nick and Clover and me?”
“Thanks,” Mia said, “but I don’t think I’d be very helpful. Also … I might want to work on something else.”
During the slideshow, Mia had found herself thinking about Gram’s cricket farm. Maybe helping Gram could be her summer project.
“Is it okay if we come up with new ideas for a business that already exists?” she asked Zoya. “Not for the competition. Just for fun.”
“A business you’re connected to somehow?” Zoya asked. “Like through family or friends?”
Mia nodded.
“That’s a great idea,” Zoya said. “Start-ups need to begin small, but it’s important to innovate and grow. You’re thinking about ideas for that?”
Mia nodded again.
“Then go for it!” Zoya said, and moved on to talk about jewelry pricing with Dylan and Julia.
Mia thought about what Daniel had said about the farm needing to grow to survive. About the issues they’d had with humidity and temperature and the poor crickets drowning because they were too dumb to climb out of the water. About how Gram was always saying people would love crickets if they could learn to see them as food.
Maybe Mia didn’t have a robot in progress, or a completely coded app, or two boxes of recycled jewelry ready to go. But she had some ideas. And that was a start.
CHAPTER 5
Business Plans and Beetles
On Tuesday, Zoya bounced into Launch Camp and started the day with a presentation on business plans. “You need a game plan,” she said. “Something to share with potential investors. But a business plan is also important for the entrepreneur. When my parents emigrated from Iran in the seventies, they opened a bakery. Their business plan allowed them to start off small and grow. Now they employ forty people in Los Angeles.”
“How come you work here and not there?” Eli called out, tipping back in his chair.
“Because I’m at UVM, getting my graduate degree in sustainable innovation—studying how businesses can grow in ways that don’t harm the environment. Now put your chair down so you don’t crack your head open, and let’s get going on your plans.” She passed out copies of a template. “I know most of you are already in the thick of it, making products and debugging software, but take time today to jot down ideas.”
Eli sighed at that, but Mia wasn’t in the thick of anything, and she was grateful for the direction. She started filling in the template.
IDEA: Cricket farm
After that, she felt a little stuck.
“Any questions?” Zoya asked, leaning over the table.
“I’m not sure how to do this because it’s not a new business. My grandma’s already running it, so she must have done something like this to get her first investors.”
“Sure. But you should still fill this out to get thinking. You can compare it to hers later on.” Zoya tapped the word “idea.” “What you want to think about is why it’s a good idea. I’m assuming one of your goals is to expand the market?”
That sounded good, so Mia nodded.
“And these are crickets for pet food?”
“Nope. People food,” Mia said. “They’re super healthy if you can get past the fact that you’re eating bugs.”
“Ahh …,” Zoya said. “So can you make a case for eating crickets so a reasonable person would want to try them?”
“I think so,” Mia said. “Okay if I use a computer to do some research?”
“Of course.” Zoya went to see how Quan and Bella were doing with their not-quite-a-bus Bao Bus while Mia moved to a computer. She scrolled through a list of articles about crickets as food, and most of the information was familiar. Gram always talked about how a serving of crickets has more protein than a serving of beef or chicken and how they’re better for the environment, too. Mia thought it was cool that raising crickets used up to twelve times less feed and two thousand times less water than raising beef.
Most people didn’t know any of that. Mia wondered if Gram could have an open house like they did at the maple farms when they demonstrated how syrup was made. She added that to her business plan.
Mia read through some more articles. She’d just clicked on one about a major league ballpark serving fried grasshoppers at its concession stands when Zoya called, “Ten minutes left!”
Mia couldn’t believe two hours had passed. She added Check on ballpark concessions for Lake Monsters to her plan and saved that page for later.
It was only two blocks from the school to Gram’s house, so Mia walked over after camp. The warm, sweet scent of bananas and cinnamon swallowed her up as soon as she opened the door. Gram stood at the counter, stirring up a batch of banana bread batter, wearing her Eat What Bugs You apron. It had a little cartoon cricket with a chef’s hat that said Hop Chef.
“Hi, Gram! Need some help?”
“You’re just in time. Want to grease another loaf pan for me?”
Mia put down her backpack, washed her hands, and coated the pan with cooking spray.
“How was your camp?” Gram asked.
“Interesting.” Mia held out the loaf pan so Gram could pour in the batter. “It got me thinking about ideas for the cricket farm.”
“You always were my best helper,” Gram said. Mia didn’t mention that she was making a whole new business plan. Gram was already stressed out about people telling her what to do.
But not telling Gram made Mia feel funny, too. Before Gram’s stroke and Mia’s accident, Mia had always told Gram everything. Even after they moved to Boston, Mia would text to share little things that happened at school. Lately, though, the things Mia didn’t talk about felt like a big tower of boxes stacked up between them. Leaving out that part of Launch Camp felt like throwing another carton on the pile. Pretty soon, she wouldn’t be able to see Gram anymore. But there were some things you couldn’t say out loud.
“Is this a new recipe?” Mia asked so she’d stop thinking about the boxes.
Gram nodded. “Trying to see if I can get the protein content up a little more.” She went to the sink to rinse out her mixing bowl just as the oven timer went off.
“Want me to see if it’s done?” Mia asked, reaching for an oven mitt.
“Remember how to check?”
Mia laughed. “Gram, just because we haven’t baked together in a while doesn’t mean I forgot everything!” She took a toothpick from the cupboard, opened the oven, and poked it into the bread, just like Gram had taught her when she was little. It came out clean, with just a few crumbs sticking to it, so Mia set the loaf on the counter to cool.
It smelled amazing, and Mia was grateful when Gram asked her to do a taste test. “Let me know what you think,” Gram said. “I might need to adjust the recipe before we share it.”
Mia cut a slice of bread and blew on it to cool it. She took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “It’s good,” she said, “but maybe a tiny bit gritty?”
“Guess I was a little too enthusiastic. I’ll have to tweak the flour-to-cricket-powder ratio.” Gram looked at Mia and sighed. “Sorry you had to be my guinea pig. Other people’s grandkids get nice reliable chocolate chip cookies, and you’re stuck testing cricket recipes.”
“I like being your guinea pig,” Mia said. “And this is still really good.” She took another piece so Gram wouldn’t feel bad. It wasn’t Gram’s fault that she loved crickets more than everybody else did.
Mia put the last batch of bread into the oven and dried dishes while Gram washed and hummed along with the radio. Even with the boxes piled between them, and even on a day she had to taste test gritty banana bread, with Gram was still Mia’s favorite place to be.
When all the bread was done, Mia and Gram had lunch and drove out to the cricket farm. On the way, they passed the Chocolate Shoppe, which had an Open House sign out front.
Mia pointed it out to Gram. “Have you ever thought about doing an open house lik
e that for the cricket farm? We were brainstorming ideas at camp, and that was one of the things I came up with.”
Gram raised her eyebrows as she flicked on her turn signal. “That’s an interesting thought. We can’t have people traipsing through the warehouse, but I could set up a display in the lobby with bins of crickets at different stages in their development.”
“You could give out samples, too. And have posters about how healthy and sustainable crickets are.”
“I like that idea!” Gram smiled at Mia as they pulled into the parking lot. It made Mia feel like the stack of secret boxes between them got a little smaller.
Gram looked at the calendar on her phone. “What if we plan this open house for … August ninth? Sunday afternoon’s good, right? That’ll give us five weeks to get the word out. And the summer tourists will still be around.”
“I can help with decorations and everything,” Mia said.
“Perfect!”
Mia followed Gram inside. Gram still had that kind of funny walk, but she was moving along. And she didn’t seem like she was having any trouble thinking, like Mom had suggested. Gram was fine. She could make her own decisions about whether to sell the farm or not.
Mia was about to ask Gram if she could see the original business plan when Syd came wobble-racing out, looking for love. Mia was tied up with belly rubbing for a good five minutes, and by then, Gram was on her phone.
“Hey there! Here to help?” Daniel asked, holding open the door to the cricket room.
“Sure.” Mia followed him inside. “What needs to be done?”
“Feeding. Watering. Cleaning. The usual stuff. But first you should come with me to check on the nursery.”
The word “nursery” made Mia think of a fancy hospital room with rows of babies, but this one was a greenhouse sort of tent in the corner of the warehouse. Daniel unzipped the flap and held it while Mia stepped inside. It was even warmer than the cricket room and muggy.
“Oh, excellent!” Daniel looked into a bin on the shelf. “We have pinheads!”
The box was full of tiny, pale baby crickets. They looked like the little white heads on the pins Mia’s other grandmother used for sewing.
Daniel handed the box to Mia, lifted the nursery tent flap, and pointed to one of the bins. “Want to dump them into their new home?”
Mia did that while Daniel opened a big bag of chicken feed. “So now we’ll grind up some fresh feed and then— Oh no!”
Mia rushed over. The feed was crawling with coppery-colored beetles.
Daniel crumpled the top of the bag closed and picked it up. He jerked his head toward the lobby. “Open the door!”
Mia raced over and opened it, and Daniel ran straight through. He tripped over Syd, who yelped indignantly, but Daniel didn’t stop until he was across the parking lot. He flopped the bag down in the grass with a thump.
“What are they?” Mia asked.
“Maybe mealworm beetles?” Daniel said, catching his breath. “But that feed was fine yesterday.”
Mia’s heart raced. Could Gram be right about that guy trying to sabotage her farm? “Do you think somebody put them in there?”
Daniel shrugged. “It’s messed up, but I don’t see how else this could happen. I was thinking that our temperature and humidity issues last month could have been technical glitches. And the seagulls were just weird. But now …” He shook his head. “Those beetles could be carrying ten kinds of diseases. If I’d dumped that feed in with the crickets …” He looked at Mia. “We’re going to have to keep a closer eye on this place. Because if she’s right—if somebody is trying to sabotage the farm—this could be just the beginning.”
CHAPTER 6
Who’s a Warrior?
Mia helped Daniel open a new bag of beetle-free feed and get the crickets fed, and then it was time for Warrior Camp. The businesses in Gram’s warehouse all had their own doors to the outside, but there was also a long inside hallway that connected them. Mia didn’t feel like going back out into the sun, so she went that way. She hadn’t realized at first how big the whole warehouse was; Gram’s farm and Green Mountain Moose each took up about a fifth of the huge space, and the rest was the big gym Mia had seen on her first day. It was divided into two sections—the Warrior Camp training center and a traditional gymnastics place with all the equipment.
Mia stepped inside and froze. Just walking into a gym again made her throat feel dry and tight. She’d only agreed to this so she could spend time with Gram.
It’s okay, she told herself. This wasn’t gymnastics. She was going to be a warrior. She’d give it a try, and if nothing else, she’d learn a few secrets from the show.
But in order to get to Warrior Camp, Mia had to walk past the gymnastics center. It had a big window so families could watch. Mia looked through the glass. A girl had just done a tuck jump on the balance beam, and she was wobbling. It made Mia’s insides wobbly, too. She looked away.
“Are you here for gymnastics camp?” a tall woman in a tracksuit asked.
“No!” Mia answered, a little too loud. “Sorry. I mean … I used to do gymnastics, but I’m in Warrior Camp this summer.”
“I thought you looked like a gymnast!” the lady said. Her hair was tucked into a bun, and she had a friendly smile. “Well, you’ll love Maria and Joe at Warrior Camp.” She pointed to a red door on the other side of the lobby. “But if you decide to do gymnastics, too, we have classes all summer. I’m Jamie, and you can ask for me, okay?”
“Thanks,” Mia said. But no thanks, she thought, and headed for the red door. She couldn’t help looking through the window again, though. Now another girl was on the beam, teetering as she got ready to do a back walkover. Mia’s hand went to her arm. She trailed a finger along the scar from her surgery, and her heart sped up. There were balance-beam sorts of challenges on the warrior show she watched sometimes. She hoped they wouldn’t have those at camp.
Mia walked up to the red door and took a deep breath. Camp only lasted two hours. She’d be fine.
“Are you a warrior or what?” someone asked from behind her.
Mia turned and saw a freckly little girl in gym shorts and a bright pink tank top. She looked like she might be eight or nine. “Sorry.” Mia stepped aside. “I’m here for camp, but you can go ahead.”
The girl put her hands on her hips and looked Mia up and down. “You look scared,” she announced, “but you shouldn’t be, because it’s fun and everything is super easy once you get the hang of it and we get watermelon for snack most days. So are you coming?” The girl was holding the door, so Mia went in.
At first, it was cool to see the equipment from the show, but within seconds, Mia felt overwhelmed. There were so many kids! And they were shouting about their favorite equipment all at once.
“Whoa! The jumping spider!”
“The warped wall! Cool!”
Most were younger than Mia, which made her feel a little embarrassed but also a little better. At least there wouldn’t be anybody her own age to make fun of her.
The space was small, but it seemed like every single challenge from the TV show was squeezed in there. The freckly girl from the door had already scrambled up a rock wall and made it halfway across a monkey-bars thing. Two boys were taking turns running up the warped wall and sliding back down.
“I got to ten feet that time!” one shouted.
“Did not! Your fingers didn’t touch the line!”
There were a dozen kids climbing ladders and poles, shimmying along pipes that hung from the ceiling, and bouncing on mini-trampolines. It felt loud and chaotic and dangerous. Mia wondered if she could sneak back out to the cricket farm before anyone noticed.
“Welcome to Warrior Camp!” a tall woman with a blue buzz cut called from one corner of the gym. She was standing next to a shorter guy with a frizzy ponytail, and they both had totally ripped muscles like the people on the show. “Let’s sit in a circle so we can stretch!”
When everyone had settled in,
the blue-haired coach shouted, “Who’s a warrior?”
“We are!” everybody except Mia shouted back. It was starting to feel like Launch Camp, like they’d all been here before, and Mia couldn’t help thinking that she should have looked more carefully at those brochures. Knitting Camp, for example, was sounding better by the minute.
“That’s great!” the coach said. “I’m Maria, and this is Joe.” The ponytail guy waved. “We’re your coaches, and we know most of you. But who’s new this session?” Everybody looked at Mia, so she raised her hand.
Then the door opened, and Clover came flying in, blond curls bouncing off her shoulders. “Sorry I’m late!”
Mia waved, and Clover’s face lit up. She hurried over and plopped down beside her.
“Have you done this before?” Mia whispered while Maria was going over rules.
Clover shook her head. “My moms made me come. They said I had to do at least two activities this summer.”
“Same,” Mia said, and felt a little better about this one.
They went around the circle to introduce themselves, which confirmed that Mia and Clover were the oldest. Isaac and Liam were eight-year-old twins. Luke, Andy, and Matt were all nine. Ally, Emma, Jake, and Amir were ten. TJ was eleven, and Carlee, the freckly girl Mia had met on her way in, was seven.
“We’ll start with some stretching,” Maria said. “Spread out and roll your shoulders.”
Clover wiggled herself closer to Mia. “How’s your business plan going?” she whispered.
“Let’s stretch our legs now! Spread them out and walk your hands forward …”
Mia stretched. “The plan’s okay, but my gram’s cricket farm is kind of a mess. She thinks—” Mia stopped. She really didn’t know Clover and wasn’t sure how much to share. But Clover seemed smart. Maybe she’d have ideas. “She thinks somebody is trying to sabotage her farm.”
“Take a deep breath and see if you can get forward a little more,” Maria said. “Look at Carlee!”
