I turn to Brian. “What should we do?”
He shrugs. “Stand here and fake it?”
So we go behind our table and try to smile and act like we have a clue.
“I feel sick,” I say.
Brian takes a step away. “Just don’t puke on me, okay?”
Mom and Dad are hugging Erin. A Parenting 101 Success Story. The “rise above failure” lesson. Dad pats her on the back, and Mom takes a picture of her and Zoe in front of their display board while Erin holds up the plant root. Then they head toward me, along with Mr. Delman.
Delman gets there first. “Ethan, Brian,” he says, tapping his pen on the clipboard and looking over what was once the desk-evator. “What do we have here?”
I pick up the cutting board and try to show him how it’s supposed to work. “Uh, well, it kind of fell apart, but it’s supposed to be this invention that will let kids stand at their desks. See, it unfolds, and you clip it onto the sides of your desk. . . .”
“Innovative,” Dad comments. “I like it. Cutting-edge stuff here.” He winks at me. “Get it? Cutting edge, cutting board.”
“Stop,” I mouth.
Delman writes something on his clipboard as Brian’s mom appears with another plastic bag. “Dessert,” she whispers. “From the bakery. The good one, by Uncle Mike’s house.”
Brian brushes his hand at her. “Any more questions, Mr. D? We’d be glad to answer them.”
“Uh, no. Thank you. I have what I need.” He moves on to the next table. Parneeta’s.
Mom tilts her head. “I was wondering where my spatulas went. Well . . . this is certainly unique, I’ll say that.”
One by one, the other judges come to our table. And they all have pretty much the same reaction. Ranging from bad to horrible to complete stinkage. They don’t say it. They’re polite. But they don’t have to. It’s written all over their faces. And in the quick little scribbles on their clipboards before they happily move on to Parneeta.
I jab Brian. “We have to do something.”
“Like what? Blow up the desk-evator in the middle of the gym?”
“Our invention might be a failure, but we don’t have to be. And we can still get the message across.”
“What are you talking about?”
I grin. “School got rules, that we know.”
He grins back at me. “But McNutt number seven has got to go.”
Then we shrug at each other, walk in front of our table, and go for it. The rap we did in my basement. What the heck at this point, you know?
We just start, and slowly a crowd forms around us. Kids, parents—even Little Panda Girl bounces over, giggling and dancing.
School got rules, that we know,
But McNutt number seven has got to go.
Sit, sit, sit, there goes your brain.
Sit some more, you go insane.
You know the deal, hours in a chair.
Then what happens, your butt gets square.
We gotta move, we gotta stand.
Hey, this ain’t no joke, listen to our band.
It’s time to make a change, it’s time to be heard.
No more scomas, and that’s the last word.
People applaud, cheer, whistle, and scream for more. Someone shouts, “Flash mob!” So we do the whole thing a second time, with the judges watching now. Then a third. Take that, Parneeta’s Pouches! We’re the Scomas, okay, and we can fire up the crowd too!
This is even better than doing the karaoke at Naomi’s party. Maybe my future is in the entertainment industry, not the invention world. People are taking pictures and tweeting them—#sittingrap, apparently. This eighth-grade guy’s taking video, and I hear him say this is the kind of thing that goes viral and he’s posting it immediately.
After we finish and everyone claps again, it kind of breaks up. Before I even catch my breath, Zoe rushes up to me and throws her arms around my waist.
“I think your invention’s great!” she cries. “And I think you’re great!” She stands on her tiptoes, kisses me ON THE LIPS, then takes off and disappears into the crowd.
Whoa.
She kissed me. Zoe just kissed me?
I have no idea what to do. I’m sort of frozen. Did anyone see that? Where’s Erin? Can’t find her. Where did Zoe go? Don’t see her. Where’s Brian? He’s standing next to Jamie. He’s talking. She’s not. He reaches for her hand, but she takes a step back. Oh no.
“Hello? Everyone, may I have your attention?” Gilardi has the microphone again. “The judges have come to a decision!”
The gym gets real quiet. Jamie walks away from Brian. Romanov pushes toward Gilardi on the bleachers. Little Panda Girl is asleep on the floor under Parneeta’s table.
Gilardi holds up some ribbons. “It’s getting late, so without further ado, here are the winners! In third place, Naomi Berland for her antibiotic bandage invention!” Everyone claps as Naomi comes forward and Gilardi hands her a ribbon.
“In second place, Veronica Lee for her innovative solar energy panel invention.”
Veronica gets her ribbon too.
“Now I know you’re all on the edge of your seats, but before I announce our winner, the judges have decided to award a special honorable mention this year. For the invention that shows the most promise, to Erin Marcus and Zoe Feld-Kramer, for their All-Natural Invasive Plant Destroyer. We can’t wait to see you back here next year!”
I don’t know where Zoe is, but I see my sister’s mouth drop open. Everyone applauds. Me included.
Gilardi asks the crowd to quiet down. “And our winner—drum roll please—is Parneeta Johar, for Parneeta’s Pouches!”
Wild applause and cheering as Parneeta walks toward Gilardi to accept the first-place ribbon and a trophy. She bows, and her parents take forty gazillion pictures of her.
“We will be submitting Parneeta’s invention for a US patent!” Gilardi says.
Erin marches over to Romanov. They’re both close to me. “Marlon,” I hear her say. “Isn’t this interesting? All the winners—including the special honorable mention—are women.”
He stamps his foot, turns, and shoves through the crowd. A few minutes later, the gym door slams.
Someone says, “I heard Romanov got disqualified!”
This other kid goes, “Why?”
“Stupidest thing. He blew off the display board.”
Then it’s basically this crazy stampede of people packing up their stuff and congratulating Parneeta and parents telling their kids to hurry up. A few people slap me on the back and tell me the rap was sweet and excellent and so right.
Brian’s slumped on the floor by our table. He doesn’t look too good. Like the time he threw up on the roller coaster. “Jamie turned me down, man. Friend-zoned me. It was horrible. The worst moment of my life.”
“What happened?”
He blows out a long breath. “I finally asked her out, okay? She said I’m cute and funny and she likes me. But she said it like I’m a cuddly stuffed animal or something. Then she told me she just started going out with Armando. I didn’t know.”
“Armando?”
“Mr. Potato Head.”
“What?”
“At Naomi’s Halloween party.”
“Oh, him?”
“Yeah. So my heart is officially broken. Just thought you should know.”
“Really sorry.” I put the remains of the desk-evator into one of the plastic bags that Brian’s mom brought. “You okay?”
“Would you be okay after your heart was smashed into a hundred pieces?”
“Hey, they’ll probably break up in a week and you’ll get another shot.”
He shakes his head, stands, grabs the display board. “Let’s get out of here.”
We meet my parents outside the gym. “I think you did a great job,” Mom says. “We’re very proud of you. We loved the rap song! It was adorable.”
Dad gives me a thumbs-up.
And as we walk out the door into the parking l
ot, I’m expecting to see Zoe, or Erin, or even the US patent people waiting to sign up Parneeta. But who I see is Wesley, standing in back of some bushes by the front sidewalk, leaning against a brick wall, looking at me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
How Things Are
ERIN
As far as I’m concerned, Invention Day was a success.
We didn’t win, of course. We couldn’t have. But Romanov didn’t win either. And we got an honorable mention!
Not that I’m happy he suffered a major disappointment and his dream of a repeat first place was crushed and he stormed out of the gym alone.
It would be so mean to think that, wouldn’t it?
Okay, I admit it, I think that.
And I’m a little glad. Yes, all right, more than a little. I’m secretly thrilled. Serves him right, don’t you agree? Yes, you do, admit it too.
Now Zoe and I have an entire year to work on our invention. And we’ll come back next year, strong and ready to show everyone what we’re made of.
Yeah, I heard she kissed my brother. Everyone heard. And Jamie friend-zoned Brian. Everyone heard that, too.
Between that, Parneeta’s little sister, Romanov, and Ethan and Brian’s rap, Invention Day turned into a bit of a free-for-all. Not at all how I expected it to be.
That’s just how things are sometimes. You gotta go with it.
What?
Stop, okay. Just stop.
ZOE
What can I say, I got caught up in the moment. And what a moment it was! I can’t even describe it. You’ll just have to spontaneously kiss someone someday and see what it feels like, and then you’ll know.
I’ve been wanting to kiss Ethan ever since that day in his garage when the quiz on my phone confirmed I was in love. While I was watching him do that funny rap song, I felt dizzy and off balance and a little crazy. His cuteness was just too much. I suddenly understood the true meaning of the word swoon.
I’m not embarrassed. And no, I’m not sorry. Sometimes in life, you have to close your eyes and leap, you know?
The only thing is, now that I’ve leaped, I’m not sure what to do next.
Ethan hasn’t done anything or said anything or even acknowledged the K in any way, so I’m not sure how he feels. Or if he ever wants to kiss me.
If you hear anything, can you let me know? Thanks a lot, that would be great.
WESLEY
I went to Invention Day, yeah. By myself. It wasn’t easy, but I knew the wrestling guys wouldn’t be there. I mostly hung out by these guys who invented a new kind of synthesizer. After a while, I asked them to show me how it works.
And you know what? They did.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Tomatoes
ETHAN
And then it’s over.
I wash the spoons and spatulas and put them back into the kitchen drawer, then throw away the broken cutting board, the chip clips, and the tape. Erin carefully packs up their stuff into a plastic bin—they’ll be continuing to work at Zoe’s house—and Dad carries the folding table down to the basement. Mom sweeps the floor, then pulls their cars into the garage.
It feels quiet, and clean. And sad.
On Monday I’m back in school, sitting at my desk with a square butt and a soupy brain and feet that refuse to wake up. After all this, after everything I went through, nothing’s changed.
So much for believing in yourself and standing up for something you care about. It’s like everything never even happened.
Except for my two days of Internet fame. The rap video did go semiviral over the weekend and the tweets were retweeted a respectable number of times. People laughed, shared it, then went on to something else, which is how it goes.
When I get home after school, it’s the same as always—Erin upstairs doing her homework, Mom’s instructions for starting dinner, nothing good in the fridge.
This is my life.
I go outside for a while and shoot some baskets, but that doesn’t cheer me up. I watch this little kid across the street ride his tricycle, but that doesn’t make me feel better either. Then I go back inside and check the fridge again, and the pantry, and the freezer, for anything resembling a decent snack.
I find a lone root beer Popsicle in the way back of the freezer, buried under a package of peas. I almost feel happy, but when I unwrap it, half is crusted with ice and the rest is goopy and syrupy. I put it on the counter and stand there and watch it melt.
Erin walks into the kitchen and rips a banana off the bunch hanging by the sink. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
She peels the banana and takes a bite. “What are you doing with that Popsicle?”
I shrug. “Watching it die.”
“Oh, okay.”
“This whole thing . . . I don’t even know anymore. That day, my protest, all I really ever wanted was to be able to stand at my desk. Then I got swept up in it. I mean, I started to believe my invention had a chance. That people would get it. And I could change things, you know?” I sigh. “McNutt number seven has got to go. . . .”
She nods. “I know the feeling.”
“Anyway, it all was for nothing.”
“Ethan, your idea wasn’t bad. It has potential. You just needed to make it better. You should’ve used some other materials. Not a cutting board and chip clips—”
“I know, okay! I know.” I throw the Popsicle into the sink. “That was stupid.”
“Listen . . . I’m sorry it fell apart.”
We look at each other.
“Thanks,” I say.
She takes another bite, chews it five times. “Well.”
Neither of us leaves.
I lean against the counter. “So you really didn’t put a note in my locker?”
“I told you before, I don’t know anything about a note. What did it say?”
“Someone was telling us to make the desk-evator more like a folding table. We’d been trying to make something that, like, raised up. Whatever. Maybe it was Zoe? She, uh, you know.”
“Yeah. I heard. You . . . like her?”
All I can say is, “Uh . . .”
“It’s all right. You don’t have to tell me. I’ll ask her about the note.” Erin pulls her phone from her back pocket and starts tapping the screen. A few seconds later, she says, “It wasn’t her.”
“Ah, why does it matter? Invention Day is over. My life is over.”
She laughs.
“Why are you laughing?” I groan. “It’s not funny.”
“I don’t know, you almost sounded like . . . me.”
“Oh God.”
She rolls her eyes. “Really. That’s scary.”
I smile. “Hey, remember when we did that tomato protest? Now that was a protest.”
“Yeah, it sure was. And it worked.”
“I still won’t eat tomatoes.”
“Me either.”
“Weird,” I say. “Two peas in a pod?”
“How can we be? We’re oil and water.”
I nod. “Day and night.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Up and down.”
“Right.”
“Well . . .” She takes a few steps toward the family room. “I have a lot of homework.”
“Okay.”
“Ethan . . . it’ll be all right.”
“You mean the desk thing?”
She shrugs. “That too.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The Real Protest
ETHAN
On Tuesday, when Brian and I get to LA, Delman’s wearing a tie that says: NO QUESTION IS DUMB. Where does he get all these ties?
Brian jabs me. “Yeah, no question is dumb, except if I asked it.” He walks down the middle row. Erin and Zoe come in, go to their desks. Ever since Invention Day, it’s been really awkward whenever I see Zoe. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now or how to act around her.
Delman’s straightening a pile of papers. He glances at me and I realize I’m s
till standing by his desk. “Something on your mind, Ethan?”
I should just go to my desk, right, and let the scoma take over like usual, because what other choice do I have? But suddenly it hits me that I do have another choice. Was that what Erin was trying to tell me? It’ll be all right, but only if I keep trying to make it all right.
“Yeah, Mr. Delman, there is something on my mind.”
“Yes?”
I point to his tie. “I have a question.”
“Sure. We have a minute or so before the bell rings.”
“You remember my invention? The desk-evator?”
He half smiles. “Hard to forget it.”
“I was wondering. You think I could use something like that in here? When I just need to stand for a while? Take a break from sitting?”
He shakes his head. “I understand how you’re very passionate about this issue, and that’s certainly admirable. But I’m afraid you’d block Naomi. She wouldn’t be able to see the whiteboard.”
“Not if we didn’t sit in rows.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, maybe we could rearrange the desks in, like, a circle?”
“They’re fine how they are, Ethan. I like rows. Thank you for the suggestion, though.”
“But—”
The bell rings. “Now, if you’ll take your seat,” he says.
I trudge to my desk. Delman tells us to take out the short story we started yesterday.
My sister looks at me.
I drop into my chair.
“All right, everyone,” Delman says. “Let’s get started.”
Suddenly Erin bolts from her seat and stands next to her desk. Straight and tall, hands on her hips. It gets real quiet. Everyone stares at her. What the heck is she doing?
“Erin?” Delman asks.
“Mr. Delman, I have a question too.”
He tilts his head. “Yes?”
“Whoever said that learning had to be done in a chair?”
A few people in the back laugh.
Ethan Marcus Stands Up Page 13
