Series 2000- Brain Juice

by R. L. Stine

  “Hey, Nathan!” Wardell’s voice burst into his thoughts. “Nathan, can you help us with this one?”

  Ellen grinned across the aisle at him. “We’re stumped,” she said.

  Nathan squinted at them suspiciously. They want my help?

  “It’s a six-letter word,” Wardell said, his eyes on the puzzle grid. “The clue is, oafish and dull.”

  “What kind of fish?” Nathan asked.

  Ellen and Wardell laughed.

  Nathan felt his face turning red. “That was a joke!” he declared quickly.

  “Yeah. Right.” Ellen rolled her eyes.

  “Oafish and dull,” Wardell repeated. “Can you think of anything? Six letters. We just can’t get it.”

  They both shook their heads and frowned at the puzzle.

  Nathan thought hard. Six letters … six letters

  …

  This is my big chance to look cool, he thought. They never asked me for help before.

  He suddenly remembered the bottle of Brain Juice. How long would it take that stuff to start working?

  I could really use some brainpower now, he thought, thinking hard, repeating the clue over and over in his mind. If only Uncle Frank’s formula would work now!

  “Oafish and dull,” Wardell repeated, watching Nathan.

  “Uh … well …” Nathan blanked out. He couldn’t think of anything.

  “Oh, wait! I’ve got it!” Wardell cried. He lowered his pencil to the newspaper and started writing. “The answer is Nathan. Not-A-That-Have-A-Not!”

  He and Ellen tossed back their heads and laughed. Several other kids burst out laughing too.

  With an angry sigh, Nathan slid low in his seat. He stared out the window at the fog-covered lawns, the heavy gray sky.

  I’m soooo stupid, he thought. I’m such a moron.

  I’m not even smart enough to know when kids are playing a joke on me.

  I don’t even know how to spell oafish! he thought miserably.

  And then he heard Lindy’s cry from the back of the bus. “I don’t believe it!”

  He turned to see his sister running up the aisle, her hands pressed against her cheeks, eyes wide with alarm. “Lindy? What’s wrong?” he called.

  “My backpack! I left it at home! I left all my books, all my stuff at home!” She lurched up to the driver. “Can we go back? Can we turn around? I left my backpack!”

  “Sorry,” the driver, a plump woman in a gray uniform with a toothpick dangling from her lips, muttered without turning around.

  “But I need my stuff! I’ll flunk! I’ll flunk!” Lindy wailed at the top of her lungs.

  “Sorry.”

  We’re both so dumb, Nathan thought unhappily. It’s a miracle that we get through a day.

  At least today can’t get any worse, he told himself.

  He was wrong again.

  “Nathan, would you like to tell the whole class what is so funny?” Mr. Tyssling lowered the chalk to his side and turned from the chalkboard to view Nathan sternly.

  Everyone in class also turned to stare.

  Nathan tried to stop laughing. But his friend Eddie Frinkes had passed him the funniest, grossest drawing of Mr. Tyssling with long black worms coming out of his nose.

  PICK ME, Eddie had captioned the drawing. Eddie is an artist, Nathan thought. An artist!

  But how dumb was it to burst out laughing like a hyena while the class was silent, watching Mr. Tyssling write a long equation on the chalkboard?

  Real dumb.

  Because now the teacher was striding across the room toward Nathan, his eyes locked on the drawing in Nathan’s hand.

  And now he grabbed the paper from Nathan’s hand and was admiring PICK ME close-up.

  Nathan swallowed hard and gazed up at Mr. Tyssling. The teacher wasn’t smiling.

  The class grew even silenter than silent.

  “Did you draw this?” Mr. Tyssling asked Nathan in a voice just above a whisper.

  “No,” Nathan managed to reply. His face was burning. He knew it must be as red as a tomato.

  “Well, who drew it?” Mr. Tyssling demanded softly.

  “Uh …” No way Nathan could squeal on a friend. “I don’t know,” he said.

  “Is it supposed to be me?” the teacher asked.

  “I … don’t know,” Nathan replied. And he burst out laughing. He couldn’t hold it in.

  Dumb. So dumb.

  Everyone was laughing now. Everyone except Mr. Tyssling.

  He waited for the laughter to die down. Then he handed the drawing back to Nathan. “It isn’t very good,” he said. “My hair is longer than that. And my nose is a lot shorter.”

  Oh, wow. He’s not going to give me a hard time, Nathan realized. He let out a sigh of relief.

  Too soon.

  “Since you’re getting such a big kick out of class today, Nathan,” Mr. Tyssling said, “why don’t you go up to the chalkboard and show everyone how to solve the equation.”

  “Huh? Me?”

  Nathan’s heart pounded as he climbed up from his desk and made his way to the front of the room. His eyes blurred behind his glasses as he stared at the equation. It was a mile long!

  He scratched his head and started to read it from the beginning:

  x equals a minus c plus 125ggx plus

  y) …

  Once again, Nathan thought of the Brain Juice. Wasn’t it time for it to start working?

  Wouldn’t it be wonderful to know how to solve this problem? Nathan asked himself. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to solve it in front of Mr. Tyssling and all the kids who thought he was a moron?

  The Brain Juice. If only …

  If only …

  And then, staring at the chalky letters and numbers, Nathan suddenly felt different.

  As if a wave of electricity had shot through him.

  He could feel the hairs stand up on his arms.

  It suddenly appeared so clear. So perfectly clear. The numbers seemed to leap off the chalkboard at him. Leap together as a single unit.

  I can do this! he realized. I can do this equation!

  “Well, Nathan?” he heard Mr. Tyssling’s voice, impatient, behind him.

  Nathan’s eyes swept over the shimmering, gleaming numbers and letters. “Would you like me to solve it for x or y?” he asked the teacher.

  Laughter burst out across the classroom. Scornful laughter.

  Nathan didn’t care. “I’ll solve it first for x,” he announced.

  He picked up a piece of chalk and began writing. Scribbling numbers and letters. Scratching them furiously across the board.

  Row after row. Number after number.

  He wrote so frantically he broke the stick of chalk. Half of it went flying across the room. But Nathan kept writing, kept figuring.

  His heart pounded. He’d never felt this way before in his life!

  Finally, he finished with a gasp. And turned, grinning, to Mr. Tyssling. “Well?” he demanded, pointing to his final solution. “Well? What do you think?”

  Mr. Tyssling gaped at Nathan’s scribbles that covered the board—and his mouth dropped open in amazement.

  The teacher ran both hands back through his thick, dark hair. His eyes swept over the chalkboard.

  “I’m amazed,” he murmured. “I’m blown away.”

  Nathan grinned at him.

  Mr. Tyssling swallowed and narrowed his eyes at Nathan. “You didn’t get one thing right!” he declared. “Not one part of it.”

  “Excuse me?” Nathan choked out.

  The teacher shook his head. “You wrote and wrote and wrote. You really had me fooled, Nathan. I thought you knew what you were doing. But …” His voice trailed off.

  “It’s … wrong?” Nathan gulped. His voice cracked.

  “Totally wrong,” Mr. Tyssling said sadly. “Wrong from beginning to end.”

  Nathan slumped, like a balloon deflating. At least no one is laughing, he told himself. They all feel too sorry for me.

  Too
sorry for the dumb guy.

  “Can anyone give Nathan a hand up here?” Mr. Tyssling asked. “Lindy, can you help your brother with this problem?”

  “No … I can’t,” Lindy replied quietly. “I … left my book at home this morning. I haven’t read this chapter.”

  Hidden by tall evergreen bushes, two green faces peered into the classroom window from outside.

  His mouths tight with disgust, Gobbul turned to his partner. “They are both stupid, stupid, stupid,” he spat, through four rows of jagged teeth.

  “I guess the Brain Energizer Fluid doesn’t work on humans,” Morggul replied. He watched through the dust-smeared glass as Nathan trudged unhappily back to his seat.

  “Humans are a low species,” Gobbul muttered.

  “Well … since the fluid isn’t working,” Morggul began, his eyes lighting up, “do we have to wait any longer? Can I kill them and eat their hearts now?”

  Gobbul sighed. “Yes. Go ahead,” he said. “Enjoy.”

  “The Brain Juice isn’t working, Uncle Frank,” Lindy moaned.

  “We aren’t any smarter at all,” Nathan agreed.

  They were in Nathan’s room. He had his phone pressed to his ear. Lindy was using the portable phone from downstairs.

  “I told you to be patient,” Uncle Frank said at the other end. He had to shout over the roar of some kind of lab machinery.

  “But we drank it all, and nothing happened,” Nathan insisted shrilly. “I had a horrible day in school, and—”

  “We think maybe we got a little dumber,” Lindy added. Hunched on top of the desk, she frowned at Nathan across the room.

  “Brain Juice doesn’t work overnight,” Uncle Frank shouted. “You have to give it time to get into your bloodstream. I told you both—”

  The roar stopped in the background.

  “What was that noise? Some kind of lab experiment?” Lindy asked.

  “No. The blender,” Dr. King replied. “I’m mixing up some carrot juice.”

  “Well—when will we get smarter?” Lindy demanded. “The math test is tomorrow, and we were hoping we’d be able to get a good grade.”

  “Or at least pass it,” Nathan groaned.

  “Of course you’ll pass it,” Uncle Frank replied. “Don’t you remember my instructions? You’re supposed to study harder than you ever studied. And don’t think about the Brain Juice. You’ll see. It will work. You’ll do great on the test tomorrow.”

  “But … shouldn’t it be in our bloodstreams already?” Nathan asked, scratching his curly hair.

  “Forget about the Brain Juice. Just go study,” their uncle instructed. “Call me tomorrow. I’ll bet you will have good news for me.”

  They thanked him and said good-bye.

  “Good news,” Nathan muttered bitterly. He kicked his backpack across the floor. “How can we have good news? We don’t understand a single thing about these math equations.”

  Lindy sighed. “I don’t even know what chapters to study.”

  “Maybe we should call one of the smart kids,” Nathan suggested. “Maybe Ellen or Wardell or someone would come over and study for the test with us.”

  “Are you kidding?” Lindy sneered. “Those kids would never study with us. They’d be afraid our dumbness would rub off on them!”

  “I guess …,” Nathan replied sadly. He kicked his backpack again. “Yikes! I hurt my toe!”

  Lindy slid off the desktop and straightened the bottom of her sweater. “Well, let’s get started. You heard what Uncle Frank said. We’ve got to study.”

  “You pull out the math book,” Nathan replied. “And the review sheet. I’ll go down and get a couple of Cokes.”

  Lindy grabbed his backpack and started to unzip it. Nathan headed past her, out into the hall.

  He turned the corner to the stairway—

  —and cried out as a sharp pain shot into his chest.

  “Owwww! My heart!”

  Nathan grabbed his chest and sank back against the wall.

  He glared down at his sister. “Brenda—you hit me with that dart!”

  Brenda nodded and laughed gleefully.

  “Where did you get the darts? You’re not allowed to play with darts!” Nathan cried angrily. “You—you could have killed me!”

  “They’re only Nerf darts,” Brenda replied.

  “It really hurt! You hit me in the chest!” Nathan complained.

  “That’s fifty points,” Brenda said, picking the dart up from the hall floor. “The head is a hundred points, stomach is fifty points, arms and legs are ten points.”

  “Just go away,” Nathan groaned, rubbing his chest. “You’re not funny. You’re a total pain.”

  “Don’t you want to play?” Brenda asked. She held up a Nerf dart for him.

  “No way!” he replied angrily. “Go away, Brenda. I have a math test to study for.”

  He turned and stomped away.

  And let out a loud cry of pain as a dart slammed hard into his back.

  “Fifty points!” Brenda declared.

  The next day, Lindy came up to Nathan after the math test. “The test wasn’t so hard,” she said.

  Nathan shrugged. “At least I got all the way through it. That’s a good sign.”

  “I had to guess a few times,” Lindy confessed. “And the third equation had me totally confused. But I tried to solve it anyway.”

  “I might have passed it,” Nathan said. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

  Behind them, they heard Wardell talking to Stan. “Too easy,” he said.

  “I aced it too,” Stan replied.

  They slapped each other a high five.

  “Can’t you make them any harder?” Wardell called to Mr. Tyssling.

  “Maybe next time,” the teacher called back.

  “How did you do, Nathan?” Wardell asked, grinning.

  “Great!” Nathan replied quickly. “Awesome!” He flashed them a thumbs-up.

  Wardell and Stan left the room laughing.

  “I’m going to pass back your math tests now,” Mr. Tyssling announced the next afternoon. He walked through the rows of desks, handing out the test papers.

  “Overall, I’m very pleased,” he said. “It was a very hard test, and most of you did very well.”

  He stopped at Stan’s desk. “Good job, Stan,” he murmured. “Impressive work. And I liked the work you added for extra credit.”

  How did I do? Nathan wondered, clasping and unclasping his hands on his desktop. Did I pass? That’s all I want. I just want to pass this one.

  He glanced at Lindy across the room. She had both hands in her hair, nervously tangling and untangling strands.

  Please. Please, let us both pass, Nathan prayed.

  Mr. Tyssling finished handing back the test papers.

  “Uh … I didn’t get mine,” Nathan called out in a trembling voice.

  Mr. Tyssling turned and his smile faded. “Yes, I know, Nathan,” he said sharply. “I need to see you and Lindy after school.”

  Oh, no, Nathan thought. Oh, nooooooo.

  This is bad news. Very bad news.

  After school, Mr. Tyssling waited for the room to clear out. Then he called Nathan and Lindy to his desk. Gripping their test papers, he frowned at them.

  “I’m sorry, you two,” he said softly. “But I’m very disappointed in you both.”

  Nathan sighed. Lindy lowered her eyes to the floor.

  “We—we flunked?” Nathan asked in a tiny voice.

  Mr. Tyssling didn’t reply. He strode angrily to the window and stared out at the cloudy gray sky.

  “I guess it’s partly my fault,” he said, his back to them. “I put a lot of pressure on you two to do well on this test.”

  He spun around to face them. “But I never dreamed that you would cheat!” he declared.

  “Huh?”

  “Cheat?”

  “You both got perfect scores,” the teacher said, holding up the test papers. “You solved every problem.” He tossed the pape
rs at them. “Why did you do it? Did you think cheating was the only way to impress me?”

  “But—but we didn’t!” Nathan cried.

  “We just studied really hard,” Lindy explained.

  And we drank Brain Juice, she thought. But she couldn’t tell the teacher that.

  Wow, Lindy said to herself, her eyes sweeping down the perfect test paper. Wow. Wow. Does the Brain Juice really work? Are Nathan and I really smart now?

  She raised her eyes to the teacher. “I like you two,” he was saying. “So I’m not going to send you down to the principal. I’m going to give you one more chance.”

  “But—but—but—” Nathan sputtered.

  “We didn’t cheat. Really!” Lindy protested.

  Mr. Tyssling rolled his eyes. He raised a finger to his lips. “Sshhh. It’s okay. I understand why you did it. Look. I’m going to tear up these tests and give you a different one tomorrow.”

  “But—but—”

  “Study real hard tonight, guys,” he said. “I’m sure you can do well enough to pass. And we’ll forget this ever happened.”

  Nathan and Lindy practically skipped the whole way home.

  “We’re geniuses! Geniuses!” Nathan declared gleefully.

  “Uncle Frank is the genius,” Lindy corrected him. “He made us smart. Just think, Nathan. He can sell Brain Juice and make everyone in the world smart!”

  “I don’t care about everyone in the world,” Nathan declared. “I only care about us! Do you realize how awesome it will be to get straight A’s?”

  “Whoa.” Lindy’s smile faded. “Maybe it’s too early to talk about straight A’s. Maybe we just got lucky on that test. Remember, we have to take another one tomorrow.”

  “We’ll ace that one too!” Nathan exclaimed. “We don’t even have to study.” With a loud, joyful WHOOOOP, he tossed his backpack high in the air and caught it. They raced the rest of the way home.

  Brenda was playing in the living room when they entered. She was down on the floor moving around the plastic pieces of the dollhouse.

  “Are you still fooling around with that thing?” Lindy asked.

  “No one will put it together for me,” Brenda pouted. “Mom and Dad are too busy. And you and Nathan are too stupid.”