I wrote up a bunch of ideas, all of which had to do with what would help us survive longer in the event of a nuclear attack. My best idea was: find out whether tuna fish or Spam gives you more energy over the long term. We couldn’t stock fresh food in the shelter; it had to be stuff in cans, and based on how much we’d dug out so far, it couldn’t take up a lot of room. We had to choose wisely. I didn’t have time for the “long-term” part of my experiment, but I figured a few days would be enough for Mrs. O.
The only problem was I needed test subjects.
“Come on,” I said to Scott that afternoon. I decided to help him dig, even though I was still ticked off at him. The opening to the tunnel was getting bigger, but we still couldn’t get the rock out.
“You’re dreaming,” he said. He seemed mad at me, too, but the only thing he said was: “Spam is repulsive.”
“That might be all we have to eat if there’s a bomb,” I said. “This is for science.” And then, as if it wasn’t obvious, “And our survival.”
Half of Scott disappeared into the tunnel. Then some dirt flew out, followed by Scott (crawling, not flying). He lifted out a mound of dirt that was mingled with a layer of red Virginia clay. He had a spray of dirt in his hair. “There’s no way I’m eating Spam,” he said. “But I might eat the tuna.”
That was as good as a yes, but I still needed a subject to try the Spam (consumed by more people in Hawaii than in any other state). For about two seconds, I thought about asking Kelli Ann just so we’d have something to talk about. But Spam didn’t seem like the sort of thing I wanted her to associate with me. That left Hector. I felt guilty about asking him to eat Spam when we weren’t even going to allow him into our bomb shelter, but weirdly, Hector sounded thrilled.
“No problem. But only for three days, right?”
“Just three. You’ll be doing great things for science.”
“Yeah. Me and Albert Einstein,” he said. “Remind me again. What’s your scientific purpose?” The scientific purpose was the question we wanted to explore in the project.
I hesitated. If I told Hector exactly the reason why, it might lead to a discussion about the bomb shelter, which he didn’t even know existed. And then I would have to explain why he wasn’t out there digging with us. “I want to study the effects of a limited diet,” I said, which was technically true. Then, to make it sound more scientific, “The physical and psychological effects of a limited diet.”
But in my brain, I thought about the physical and psychological effects of lying to my best friend. Stomach weirdness? Check. Also, my skin felt colder. Sure, Hector could be immature and embarrassing sometimes, but I’d nearly forgotten that he was usually up for anything, like eating only Spam for three days. And that he didn’t make a big deal out of it, either. Even though I was guessing that tuna gave you more energy than Spam, I hoped that with the experiment, Hector would show Scott that he wasn’t soft, and that he deserved a spot in the shelter.
DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER SCIENCE FAIR WORKSHEET
Fill in each section with complete sentences. Think about the scientific process as we discussed it in class, and apply it to your project.
TITLE OF PROJECT: The Physical and Psychological Effects of a Limited Diet on Adolescents
SCIENTIFIC QUESTION: What works better as a limited diet: canned tuna fish or canned ham (Spam)?
INTRODUCTION (Please explain why you chose this experiment, if you were assisted by anyone, and any preliminary research you conducted): After watching The Day After, in which many people are forced to seek shelter without access to their regular resources, I wanted to know which of two food sources would best sustain humans. I was assisted by Scott Dursky (Subject A) and Hector Clelland (Subject B). My research consisted of going to the store and figuring out what kind of protein food had a long shelf life and could last in post-nuclear conditions. I also needed to find a food that fit within my budget. According to the manufacturers, tuna and Spam (unopened) have a shelf life of up to five years.
HYPOTHESIS (This is your guess of what you think will happen during the experiment, and why): I think the subject who consumes tuna will do better because it is less gross than Spam, thus that subject will eat more of it.
MATERIALS: Spam (canned ham), tuna, weights, track, stopwatch, and math worksheets from Mrs. Fink’s fourth-period class
PROCEDURE: (Write the steps to your experiment so that another person could conduct your experiment independently, by following your instructions.)
1. Have the subjects lift weights, run a mile, and complete math worksheets. Record the data.
2. Give Subject A three cans of tuna. Give Subject B three cans of Spam. This is all they get to eat for the next three days, plus water. When Subject B complains that he didn’t know that tuna was an option, explain that you need something for comparison.
3. After one day of the canned food—only diet, have the subjects lift weights, run a mile, and complete math worksheets again. Record the data. Try not to worry that Subject B looks like he’s going to pass out during the mile run. Don’t listen to Subject A when he says that Subject B is a “weak link.” Also write down subjective data, i.e., how the subjects say they feel.
4. On day two, repeat step 3. During lunch, hide the nice roast beef sandwich that your mom made for you and eat it later.
5. On day three, repeat step 3. When you are done recording all the data, tell the subjects that they are free to resume a normal diet.
RESULTS: Use a table or graph to best display your data and results.
DISCUSSION: What do your results show? If your data is inconclusive, explain why.
You would think that, overall, tuna worked better than Spam. Subject A actually performed better on weightlifting on Day 3, while Subject B lifted fewer and fewer weights every day. Also, Subject A did not lose much time on the mile run, while Subject B had a lot of variation, but remember, Subject A has the school record for the mile run. Subject B did do better on the math problems than Subject A, but Subject A did not seem to be trying very hard.
However, there is one big problem with all of this. It turns out that Subject A was eating other food the whole time.*
CONCLUSION:
Subject A is a jerk.
*Foods Eaten By Subject A in Addition to Tuna Fish: Hamburger, mac and cheese, cereal (times three), milk (times three), ham sandwich, peanut butter sandwich, potato chips, pretzels, Little Debbie Snack Cake, chocolate chip cookies, Rice Krispy Treats, rice, beans, peanut butter toast, egg, Hostess Cupcakes.
I rewrote the conclusion before I turned in my paper. Even though it was true, I didn’t think that’s what Mrs. Osterberg was looking for.
Here’s what happened: I’d just finished recording all the data and told Scott and Hector that they could have regular dinners; I was done.
Hector’s face lit up. “Really? ’Cause my mom is making empanadas. I’ve been dreaming about food every night.”
That made me feel worse. Even though he hadn’t complained so much, Hector had been really, really hungry the whole time.
“You should probably eat a double portion,” I said as Hector turned toward his house. Scott and I lived in the other direction.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Scott roll his eyes. Then his expression changed to a smile, and I saw that Kelli Ann and her friends were just ahead of us.
I decided to try Scott’s advice. “Hi, Kelli Ann!”
She turned around. “Hi,” she said. They slowed down so we could catch up.
“See?” Scott said. “It works.”
Kelli Ann was holding a foil-lined shoe box. “You want a Rice Krispy treat? It’s Michelle’s birthday.”
We reached in the box, but then Kelli Ann slapped away Scott’s hand, sort of playfully. “Not you, you pig!” she said. “You’ve already had two! Anyway, there will be more snacks when you come to my house tonight.”
Scott turned about nine shades of purple.
I looked from Kelli Ann to Sc
ott, and then back again. Two thoughts crowded into my brain. Scott cheated on my experiment. Scott was going to Kelli Ann’s house.
Scott smiled as if nothing was wrong. I wondered if there was a way to strangle him without Kelli Ann noticing.
“Thanks for the Rice Krispy treat,” I said to Kelli Ann. At least I managed to talk normally.
I thought back to my conversation with Scott, the one where I’d left Hector behind so I could ask about girls.
Be a lone wolf, he said. Relationships make you weak.
That wasn’t advice. It was Scott strategically arranging to have Kelli Ann all for himself.
I turned for home. Scott said something else to Kelli Ann. “Wait up,” he called to me. I pretended not to hear him and walked faster.
“Dude, just do another experiment,” he said after he caught up.
“No,” I said. “I did this one.” I was acting like I was mad at Scott for messing up my experiment, and I was. But Scott messing around with Kelli Ann bothered me more.
“You know what’s the worst thing?” I added, though really, it wasn’t the worst thing, not even close. “You cheated today and did worse on the test. My hypothesis was that tuna would give you more energy. But now it looks like the Rice Krispy treats sucked it away.”
“You really need a bigger sample size if you want to be scientific,” Scott said. “You know that, right?”
Shut up about the sample size! I thought. I tried to figure out how to salvage the experiment. “Okay, you ate today. I can still use the results from the first two days.”
“Here’s the thing,” Scott said. He didn’t finish his sentence, letting me fill in the blanks.
“You ate something else?”
Scott didn’t look at me. He just started mumbling some names of food. Cereal, ham sandwich, potato chips, Little Debbie Snack Cake …
It turned out Scott didn’t even skip breakfast the very first morning. And when I thought he was eating tuna for lunch he’d already eaten a ham sandwich. Scott, who had said Hector would be a weak link to our survival, didn’t do the experiment at all.
“Did you even stick to the diet for five minutes?” I asked him.
“I got hungry,” Scott said.
“If you couldn’t hack it, you shouldn’t have said you’d do it.”
“It’s a junior high school science experiment, okay? You aren’t going to revolutionize our knowledge of nutrition. The government probably has whole departments dedicated to that kind of research.”
“That’s not the point. This was my research. I was trying to do something to help us survive in the shelter,” I said. Unlike your experiment, I thought, but didn’t say. Instead of doing something on survival, Scott ended up doing the vinegar-and-baking soda volcano like everybody else.
If I said the things I really wanted to, Scott and I were through, that much I knew. I would be giving up my survival space. I tried counting to ten. In health, that’s what they taught us to do when we felt mad. I counted by twos.
“You didn’t try to eat tuna for three days,” said Scott, who apparently still thought the experiment was the only issue. “You don’t know what it’s like.”
“You know what?” I said. “You don’t, either.”
I thought that if I didn’t say anything, I would stop feeling mad at Scott, and then I wouldn’t have to say anything. There were a couple of times I saw him in the hall where I pretended not to see him. Sort of like I used to with Kelli Ann, except I really did want to talk to Kelli Ann, and did not want to talk to Scott. At all. Especially after I got my grade on my science project. Mrs. Osterberg gave me a C-minus.
“A nice thought but not enough of a sample for a true scientific comparison,” she wrote. “Good graphs and useful question, but if you had a bigger sample size you would have been able to draw some sort of conclusion when Subject A deviated. You should have tried this experiment across genders, as well.”
When Subject A deviated. She meant when Scott cheated. And I guess I should have asked Kelli Ann—that would have solved the gender question. Not that it would have helped me in the way I wanted it to, since Kelli Ann and Scott were a thing.
I still sat next to him in English, but I didn’t do any more than the bare minimum. Say hello. Pass the quiz on A Separate Peace.
Mr. Haggerty was wearing a super-bad tie, green with cartoon children on it. (The average silk necktie requires about one hundred and twenty silkworm cocoons. But Mr. Haggerty’s ties were mostly cotton.) Scott passed me a note. Nice tie. Nice was underlined three times. I nodded and slid the note back to him. I had never been so intent on doing well on one of Mr. Haggerty’s quizzes.
The note slid back. Want to come over today?
Can’t.
As in, I can’t because I have my lesson with Rabbi Doug. I didn’t write won’t, as in won’t because you’re a jerk, but I was thinking that, too.
Scott gave me a funny look, one eyebrow lifted and one corner of his mouth curled slightly. I pretended not to see, or understand.
During my bar mitzvah practice, I tried to look as though nothing was bothering me. I didn’t do such a good job because Rabbi Doug figured me out in about five minutes.
“Is something bothering you, David?”
I fiddled with my chumash, which is basically a bound-up, printed version of the Torah. It’s easier to read because it’s a book, not a scroll. Plus, there are vowels.
“No,” I said. I didn’t think I was supposed to lie to a rabbi, though, so I added, “Not exactly.”
“Ah.” Rabbi Doug stood up and straightened a picture on the wall. “Well, the thing is, your chanting is not going so well today. I was thinking that if you were distracted that might explain it. Otherwise, I might need to talk to your parents about increasing your practice time.” He didn’t look at me when he said this. He was staring very intently at his picture of a tree—the tree of life, maybe.
Rabbi Doug was saying, Tell me what’s wrong, kid, or get more homework.
“There’s this friend,” I began.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Did you see The Day After?”
“I did,” he said. So I told him the rest.
For someone who spends most of his time talking to people, Rabbi Doug was surprisingly good at listening. He didn’t interrupt. He made little listening noises. Sometimes he agreed with me, like when I told him about Scott messing up my science experiment. (He made a face about the Spam part, and I don’t think it was just because Spam wasn’t kosher.)
“He didn’t keep his word,” said Rabbi Doug.
“Exactly! What if we hadn’t run into Kelli Ann? I wouldn’t have known anything. My results would have been totally fake.”
“You’re angry.”
“He lied to me. He messed up my science experiment. I’m supposed to wait out a nuclear war with this guy?”
“What about Hector?”
“No, I was talking about Scott.” I guess all these names were kind of confusing for Rabbi Doug. “Scott’s the one who lied to me.”
“I know.” Rabbi Doug spun around in his chair and leaned back. “But who lied to Hector?”
My face turned hot. I hadn’t told Rabbi Doug specifically about leaving Hector out, but I guess he figured it out. “I just left out some details.” As the words came out, though, I could hear how thin they were. “A lot of details,” I added.
“When you leave out the details, as you say, do you respect yourself?” asked Rabbi Doug.
I thought about all the times I’d told Hector I was doing something else, and how I didn’t tell him everything about my science experiment, even though he was basically willing to starve for three days. For me.
I shook my head. “I was thinking about surviving,” I said.
“Think about this, David,” said Rabbi Doug. “What if you really did have to start over in the world? How would you want to start?”
He started saying something about dishonesty and deception and how both were c
rimes under Jewish law, but I was already ahead of him. I knew.
“That’s enough for today,” Rabbi Doug said, looking at his watch. “Maybe it will give you some inspiration for your bar mitzvah speech. And for Hector.”
As soon as I got home, I called Hector. I started out by apologizing for the botched science experiment.
“That’s okay, I guess,” he said. “Though you could have eaten the Spam yourself. Then I could have eaten the tuna and you would have gotten accurate results.”
“I couldn’t eat the Spam. It was my experiment; I was the scientist.”
“So?” said Hector. “Jonas Salk gave himself and his whole family the polio shot as an experiment.”
“True,” I said.
“I can’t believe I ate Spam for you for three days for nothing.” He didn’t sound mad at me—just mad that his sacrifice didn’t contribute to any lasting results.
But I hadn’t gotten to the leaving-you-out-of-the-survival-plan part of my apology yet. And that’s when I realized that Scott had been wrong about something else. Sure, the strong (and the cockroaches) would probably be the most likely to survive a nuclear attack. But if I was going to be stuck starting over again in a messed-up world, I would want to start over with someone who was more than just strong. I would want to start over with a guy who was willing to eat Spam for me for three days when he didn’t even have to. I would want to start over with a real friend.
Not Scott. I was never sure why Seal and my grandmother had never made up after all those years. But suddenly, not speaking to someone ever again didn’t seem so crazy; it seemed like a good idea.
“Come over after dinner tonight,” I told Hector. “I’ve got something to show you.”
Dinner took forever. My parents were arguing, again, about my bar mitzvah.
“She doesn’t think I can do it,” my mother told my father. “She doesn’t trust me because I’m Chinese. She keeps second-guessing me.”
This Is Just a Test Page 11
