Brendan Buckley's Sixth-Grade Experiment

by Sundee T. Frazier

  I didn’t even bother asking if I could have what Gladys was having since Mom believes eating a healthy breakfast is the key to world peace. She’d given me Raisin Bran, peanut butter toast, and a giant fruit-and-yogurt smoothie before we’d left. I would wait until after our Tae Kwon Do demo, and then I’d pig out.

  After Gladys got her cookie and drink, we went to find Grandpa Ed. The rock club always has a display in the hobbies area, although I hadn’t known that until recently. Even though we go to the fair every year, I’d never gone into Hobby Hall. I’d figured it was all quilts and dolls and that needlepoint stuff. And of course Mom had never mentioned Grandpa Ed being there, since, until this past summer, she hadn’t talked to him for ten years.

  “Here it is,” I said, pointing to the sign hanging from the building.

  Glass showcases full of people’s crafts filled the rooms. What I noticed most of all were the ribbons. I imagined one of the big blue ones hanging in my room. NATIONAL SCIENCE COMPETITION—FIRST PLACE, it would say.

  We walked through a room full of collections. I couldn’t believe some of the stuff people collected: cookie jars, lunch boxes, Pez dispensers, Holstein-patterned everything.

  Finally, we came to the room where a large PUYALLUP ROCK CLUB banner hung on the wall behind a table. Morgan and her dad were there, talking to what looked like a mom and dad and their two kids. One of the kids had just spun a roulette wheel and Morgan was giving him a mineral sample for a prize.

  Grandpa Ed stood to the side, speaking with another lady. Behind him, a large display case protected the model of the Space Needle he’d shown me at the September rock club meeting. He and a buddy had made it themselves, all out of petrified wood! It was impressive—almost as tall as I was. Grandpa Ed had said he’d help me make something, if I wanted. He’d suggested a car, but I was thinking a petrified-wood microscope would look ultracool in my room.

  When Morgan saw us, her smile grew to half the size of her face. She bounced over. “Hi, Brendan!” I barely had time to say hi before she was introducing herself to my family. “Hi! Are you Brendan’s mom and dad? I’m Morgan. Brendan and I go to school together. We’re science partners. Brendan probably told you.”

  I hadn’t.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Morgan,” Mom said, shaking her hand.

  Morgan reached for Dad’s hand, as well. “Hello,” Dad said.

  “Ah-hmm.” Gladys cleared her throat. She eyed me. The expression on her face looked a little too much like gloating. “What was that I was saying in the parking lot?”

  Gladys’s question was like a poke in my rear. I jumped in before she could open her big mouth again. “This is my grandma. You probably won’t see her around much.”

  Morgan gave me a funny look, but just as quick her smile was back. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Buckley.”

  “Oh, no, child. Just Gladys will do.”

  Finally, Grandpa Ed walked up.

  “Are you ready to go?” I asked.

  “Yessirree! To the cow barn! Morgan, you coming?”

  She looked excited. “I’d—”

  “We don’t really need help,” I jumped in again.

  “Help with what?” Mom asked.

  I glanced at Grandpa Ed. “Uh … just something we need for our science project.”

  Dad’s forehead wrinkled. “In the cow barn?”

  “Yeah. Remember that competition I told you about?”

  Dad nodded, but he still looked skeptical.

  “For our experiment, we need some … manure.”

  “Manure?” Dad said loudly. The family that had been at the rock club table and now stood around the petrified Space Needle glanced our way.

  “How exactly will you be getting that manure home?” Gladys asked, looking me up and down. “Surely not in the same car with me.”

  Morgan jumped in then. “We don’t need that much, Mrs.—I mean, Gladys.”

  “Yeah,” I said, glad that I wasn’t fighting this one on my own. “Just a medium-sized Tupperware container.”

  “Tupperware container?” Mom’s eyes got wide. “Brendan, you could have at least asked.”

  “Sorry. Can I use one of your Tupperware containers?” Of course, I already had it in my duffel bag.

  “What exactly are you planning to do with this cow manure?” Dad asked.

  “Well,” Morgan said. I’d let her take this one. “We’re going to mix it with other forms of biomass with the hypothesized result of increasing its overall energy output.”

  When Morgan and I had gotten together to decide on our project, we’d concluded—with Mr. H’s encouragement—that my original idea of experimenting on human poop might be too unhygienic for a school-related competition, not to mention it would be a hard sell with our parents.

  Dad stared at me, his eyebrows as flat as a corpse’s EKG. “Couldn’t you build a rocket or something?”

  Cow poop obviously wasn’t going over much better.

  Grandpa Ed spoke. “It may not be glamorous, but these kids’ subject matter is on the cutting edge of fuel technology.”

  Dad’s eyebrow EKG showed signs of life. “You’re telling me cow dung is on the cutting edge of something?” He turned to me. “Brendan, does your subject matter really have to be fecal matter?”

  “I was planning to tell you my idea, but you’ve been so busy.…”

  “You should be proud of the boy. He’s got a sharp mind and he wants to use it for good.” My shoulder tingled where Grandpa Ed’s hand rested.

  Dad’s jaw clenched. “You don’t need to tell me about my own son.” He looked at me. “You’re wearing your new do bok. I think it can wait until after your demonstration.”

  I tugged at my clean uniform. “I’ll be careful.”

  “I checked with a buddy of mine over there,” Grandpa Ed said. “They’re taking the cows out this morning to sanitize the place. We wait too long and there won’t be a speck of the stuff anywhere.”

  “If that’s the case, I’m sure there’ll be a Dumpster full of it somewhere,” Dad said.

  “We need it to be as fresh as possible,” I said.

  “What? Straight from the cow’s patootie?” Gladys’s lips stretched in disgust.

  Mom spoke finally. “Let’s just go get it. The kids need it for their project.”

  Yes! I could always count on Mom to support my scientific pursuits. I said goodbye to Morgan, who frowned a little but got excited again when she saw a girl standing at the rock club table. “Bye! I’ll see you at the Tae Kwon Do demonstration if I can get away.”

  You don’t have to, I thought, but I just waved, then hurried after Mom. Dad followed last. Outside the building, I turned right. “I think the cows are this way.”

  “Yes, they are,” Gladys said. “Next to Lulu’s Dairy Barn. From cow to cone. Can’t get any fresher than that!” She hoisted her straw purse over her shoulder. Already, the freebies bag was bulging with stuff.

  I led the way to the red buildings in the distance. The cattle pens have never been my favorite place to visit at the fair. First of all, they stink. Second of all, they stink. No offense to anyone who raises cows or sees them as sacred or collects cows and cow-related paraphernalia, but they stink.

  So I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the task ahead, but then, after reading up on cow dung’s hidden potential, I had to admit I had a new respect for the animal.

  We approached the Pig Palace, a small covered area adjacent to the cow barns. A person in a big pink pig costume stood in front, waving. “There he is!” Gladys hollered. “My hunka hunka piece of pork!” The rest of us looked at each other like, Do you know this lady?

  “Kate, come take my picture.” Gladys always makes sure to get a picture with the Puyallup Pig. “After that, we can watch Big Mama feed all her little pig babies. Unlike Brendan, I won’t be needing any freebies from the cattle pens.”

  Gladys handed Mom her camera and hurried to stand next to Porky. Dad followed Grandpa Ed and me
into the thick stench. I coughed a couple of times. Maybe I was crazy to want to do an experiment with this stuff. No, it was only a small amount. I could handle it.

  The barn was crammed full of cows—brown, black, white with black splotches, babies, mamas, and bulls. They stood in their gated pens on either side of a hard-packed dirt aisle. Hanging overhead were those red, white, and blue semicircular banners like you might see on a big old house in the South.

  A bull with pointy horns eyed me suspiciously. He stamped his hooves and blew nasty breath from his nose. His tail twitched back and forth. I wouldn’t be getting anywhere near that rear end. People were leading cows out of their stalls already. We’d have to work quickly.

  I looked into the nearest pen. Dang. All the manure was coated in sawdust. That would affect the results of our experiment for sure. Although wood was biomass … maybe we could factor that in somehow. Or maybe I really should try to get the droppings straight from the source, as Gladys had suggested.

  The air filled with the sound of tiny squeals. Cows mooed and moved about nervously. Something squawked. I looked around. Where was all that noise coming from?

  A stampede! At least a dozen small pigs rushed toward us down the center aisle. Behind the piglets ran a teenager, clutching a bag. A bulging, multicolored straw bag.

  Gladys appeared in the barn, huffing and puffing. “Stop that hoodlum!” She shook her fist in the air. “Thief! Thief!”

  I stepped into the boy’s path with my arms extended. He shoved me out of the way, turned at the end of the row of stalls, and headed into the next barn.

  I regained my balance, dropped my bag, and ran.

  The boy exited the barn, headed toward the Slush Factory (“Twenty-eight flavors to mix!”) and Dumbo’s Jumbos Elephant Ears.

  I turned on my turbojets and sprinted even faster. I glanced over my shoulder at the sound of someone running behind me. Dad.

  Suddenly, both my feet were up in the air. I hung suspended for what seemed like forever, waiting for my body to hit the packed dirt. Instead, the ground squished. A funky smell filled my nostrils. I laid my head on the ground and moaned. The fresh cow pie under my hip was still warm from the oven.

  Dad sprinted past.

  “You all right, there?” Grandpa Ed pulled me to my feet.

  I nodded. My butt hurt, and I was hot from embarrassment, but other than that I was fine. My do bok, on the other hand … I twisted my head, trying to get a look at the damage.

  “That’s quite a tire tread you got there.”

  I groaned. “Dad’s going to kill me.”

  “Excuse me.” A woman with a shovel moved in. “We need to get this up before anyone else steps in it. Or what’s left of it, anyways.” She glanced at my behind. “There’s a men’s restroom right over there.” She pointed past a Dumpster labeled DOO-DOO ONLY.

  “Can you wait just a second?” I asked the lady. “I can help you with that.” Grandpa Ed had picked up my duffel bag. I zipped it open and pulled out Mom’s Tupperware container and gardening spade.

  “It’s certainly fresh,” Grandpa Ed said. “I think I see some steam coming off it.”

  I scooped up a shovelful, plopped it into the container, and snapped on the lid. The woman looked at me like I was nuts. “I’m not even going to ask,” she said. “All done?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” I wrapped the little shovel in the old towel I’d brought and dropped everything back into the bag.

  “We’d better get you cleaned up,” Grandpa Ed said. We walked toward the bathroom. When we passed the area behind Dumbo’s Jumbos, two uniformed security officers held the boy by his arms. Dad was there, too, holding Gladys’s straw bag. He glanced our way. I hurried into the bathroom.

  After I’d used up almost a whole roll of wet paper towels on my do bok, and then taken care of some of my own business, we came out. On my backside was a large light brown stain shaped like Australia. The rest of my family waited near the restroom exit. Gladys had her bag securely over her arm. She munched on a Krusty Pup corn dog.

  “Are you all right?” Mom asked. “Gladys said you fell pretty hard.”

  “Not before he diverted the juvenile delinquent right into the hands of the authorities. Opening the pigpen for kicks, then running off with my bag.” Gladys scowled. “What’s wrong with people?”

  “Well, all’s well that ends well, I guess,” Mom said. “Did you get what you came for?”

  “Mission accomplished.” I grinned, then got serious when I saw Dad’s face. He eyed the stain. His mouth pulled to one side.

  Gladys linked her free arm with mine. “You’re my hero, Milk Chocolate!” She got a glimmer in her eye. “Speaking of chocolate, let’s go get some of that delicious ice cream from Lulu’s.”

  “You’re going to be sorry, Mama,” Dad said. “The way you’re eating.”

  Gladys patted her bag. “Thanks to my grandson, I’ve still got my Rolaids. Pop a few of those pep pills, and I’ll be good to go.” Gladys’s nose wrinkled as she unlinked her arm. “I love you, kid, but for now, I think I’ll keep my distance.”

  “We need to go,” Dad said. “Master Rickman was expecting Brendan five minutes ago.”

  When we arrived at the stage, Morgan came up behind me. “Hi, Brendan!”

  I turned quickly, feeling suddenly very warm in my poop-stained uniform.

  “Did you get the manure?”

  “Yeah, no problem.” I tugged on my damp, smelly do bok and glanced around. Did she have to talk so loud?

  “I wish my mom were here to see you perform,” Morgan said. “She’s out on the research vessel this weekend.”

  “That’s all right,” I said, relieved that she wasn’t there. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  Dad called my name.

  “I’ve got to go. See you later.” I walked backward until Morgan finally turned away. When I looked again, she was sitting next to Mom. Great.

  I found Khal behind the platform and started to warm up with the other students, though I was still plenty warm from the encounter with Morgan.

  “What’s on your uniform?” Khal asked. “Someone spill their coffee?”

  “You don’t want to know.” Truth was, I didn’t want him to know. I’d never hear the end of it.

  “Wait a minute. That’s not …”

  “I said you don’t want to know.”

  “Aw, man! You’re not standing next to me out there! I don’t want to smell that mess. And no way am I sitting next to you on Extreme Scream.” Extreme Scream is a ride that lifts you a few hundred feet up a tower, then drops you in about two seconds. Khal and I always ride Extreme Scream together.

  “You can’t even smell it,” I said. “I washed it off.”

  Khal’s eyes slid in the direction of the audience. “I bet the Belcher will ride it with you.” He grabbed me around the shoulders and pretended to be scared. “Oooh,” he made his voice go high, “Brendan! Save me! Save me! Ew, what’s that horrible smell? Oh, it’s probably just me. Oooh! Brendan, Brendan! You’re so beautiful!”

  I shoved him away. “Knock it off.”

  Dad eyed us from the front row.

  “Fine,” I said. “Don’t stand next to me. I don’t care.” Actually, I did, but I was mad at Khal for making fun of me. And mad at myself for doing a back flop onto a cow pie. Now I had to perform in front of a big crowd—a crowd that included Morgan, which didn’t really matter, but still, she was a girl from school—with a huge poop stain on my butt!

  I punched, kicked, jumped, and blocked, trying to keep my body to the front as much as possible. If I had to spin, I did it as fast as I could. I saw a lady whisper and point. She was probably saying to the person next to her, What’s that big blotch on that boy’s jacket? It looks like Australia!

  Finally, we were bowing to Master Rickman and everyone was applauding. The crowd started to disperse.

  Morgan ran up as soon as I got off the stage and gushed like a geyser about what a great job I’d
done. Khal fluttered his eyelids behind her back. I ignored him.

  “Go change your clothes,” Dad said. “I hope you know how to work with bleach.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. I found the nearest bathroom and took my time changing.

  Fortunately, when I came out, Morgan had taken off with her dad to check out the rest of the fair. Khal and I headed for Extreme Scream. We rode it five times in a row—until my head felt like it was still stuck somewhere up in the clouds and my stomach couldn’t take one more drop. Then we headed to the nearest snack booth and loaded up on Cow Chip Cookies.

  “She’s such an expressive, articulate girl,” Mom said as we sat at the table finishing our lunch the next day. Dad was at the library studying. This wasn’t the first time Mom had said something about Morgan since meeting her at the fair.

  “Yeah, she’s loud and talkative, all right,” I said.

  Mom’s lips pulled down as if she disapproved, but I could tell she was only half serious. “Are you excited about setting up your experiment?”

  Morgan would be arriving soon with the things she’d agreed to bring: a scale, disposable gloves like they wear in doctors’ offices, and sixteen round latex balloons. She also said she could contribute at least eight two-liters. We needed sixteen of them, as well—fifteen for holding the manure mixtures, and one that we’d leave empty as a control.

  “I guess.”

  “That sounded less than enthusiastic.”

  “It’s just … I like to work on my own.”

  “Hmmm.” Mom bit into her sandwich.

  The doorbell rang.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll make a great team,” Mom said. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  Yeah, like being saved from getting talked to death, I thought. I took my dishes to the kitchen and headed down the stairs. It had been my idea to keep the experiment at my house. I wanted to be the one to do the twice-daily measurements. Fortunately, Morgan hadn’t fought me about it. “It was mainly your idea, after all,” she’d said. Plus, she had pets that roamed freely at her house, whereas mine was confined to his tank.