Aric looked down at me and smiled. "Really? You really thought it was crap?"
I shrugged. "Well, no, it was well done, but I don't want to say anything nice about that horrid little weasel."
Aric watched Michael climb to the top of a rock climbing board.
"It's well done because Michael was actually the one who made it."
I turned to him in surprise. "What?!"
"That was Michael's project and that lazy little bastard forced him to hand it over and give it to him. Apparently he's been bullying Michael for quite some time."
I jumped down from the monkey bar, furious. I was ready to go kick that kid's ass, cause a storm, tell the teacher, whatever had to be done. Aric put a placating hand on my shoulder.
"Hold on there, it's all being taken care of."
I was so angry on Michael's behalf, I could barely spit any words out.
"You... have... I...!" I swallowed and squared my shoulders. "Have you told the teacher about this?"
"He doesn't want me to. He says the bullying will only get worse if parents and teachers get involved."
"Then what are you going to do?"
He smiled at me, then over at Michael, who was hanging from a high bar like a chimpanzee. He didn't answer, but his smug smile, and the steel in his eye told me he already had things sorted. I thought I imagined his voice in my mind. Just one word - 'karma'. I watched Michael slide down a fireman's pole and land lightly in the sand, springing up instantly and dusting the sand from his spindly knees. I was intrigued as to what Aric had in mind. And if whatever that was didn't work out, I would personally go and sort the little creep out myself.
Aric turned back to me and grinned. "You need to calm down. You're literally foaming at the mouth." He wiped his thumb gently over my lips in what I thought was an intimate gesture but I was left blushing as he held up his thumb to reveal a blob of ice cream that had dripped on to the corner of my mouth.
"Oh!" mortified, I turned away from him and wiped my mouth and chin with the palm of my hand. He must think me a total slob. I took the time it took to walk to the trash can and discard the ice cream stick to compose myself. When I turned back again, he was leaning casually against the monkey bar, watching me intently.
"What?" Humiliation had a way of making me crabby.
His eyebrows arched, and he shrugged. "Nothing!" He said with a grin, and my heart did its little happy dance.
I groaned inwardly. You are pathetic, Lucy, I admonished myself. Stop acting like a lovesick loser!
Lovesick? Love-sick? Was I falling in love? Was it possible to fall in love with someone when you'd only known them a short time? I risked a sideways glance at him, and he was still watching me with those amazing, strangely colored eyes. I slapped myself mentally. It was impossible to fall in love so quickly... that only happened in books and movies. Stop being an idiot! I lectured myself. This is real life. Any girl would feel all fluttery when faced with a guy like him. Trying hard to ignore his handsome face and those compelling eyes, I stalked past him and made a show of checking the time on my watch.
"Come on. It'll be starting soon. We should look for Uncle Tom." I called Michael, and we headed for the auditorium.
* * * * *
Michael's talk started off wobbly, but gradually, as he got into it, his voice strengthened until he was speaking with impressive authority, considering his age and the subject matter. Due to time constraints the teachers had organized a number of children to give their talks simultaneously, so audiences gathered depending on their interests, or if they had a child speaking. At first Michael's audience consisted of his teacher, the principal, and our immediate family. It seemed the clay volcanoes were getting most of the attention. As Michael tried to explain his concept of String Theory, Luke wandered off to watch an 'erupting' volcano, while Aunt Janet gave non-verbal signals for Michael to stand up straight, project his voice, put his shoulders back. She even pointed to her gritted teeth - presumably reminding him to smile. He ignored her and concentrated on Uncle Tom, who stood right in front, arms folded across his chest, nodding encouragingly, and trying not to look confused.
"And so, as we know, all matter is made up of tiny little vibrating strings. So tiny we can't even see them. But if we could, this is what they would look like." He held up a piece of skipping rope, one hand at each end, and began to jiggle it, working it into a steady pulsing wobble.
"Strings can vibrate in an infinite number of ways. The way a string vibrates determines the type of matter it makes." He demonstrated by wobbling the string up and down, and it made an entirely different pattern. I was impressed - no palm cards, and the language he was using was very advanced for a ten year old. I didn't think I could even speak as well, and I was nearly eight years older than him.
"Scientists think all these strings need to be connected somehow, not end to end, but by something which connects them, sort of like a conductor. They call this connection a membrane - 'brane' for short." He dipped the wire circle into a bowl of dish washing liquid, and blew a big bubble on to his hand.
"Imagine this bubble is the membrane. See the shiny, slippery surface? Every string is floating around on that surface, all connected by the surface of the bubble, or the membrane. That one bubble is our universe." He popped the bubble, and the audience, which had increased in size as Michael's enthusiastic voice began to carry across the room, laughed at the casual destruction of our 'universe'.
He dragged the big plastic bowl closer to him. It was half filled with water.
"Now I want to talk a little bit about dimensions. We all think we know what dimensions are, but they can be a hard thing to understand really."
He held up a piece of paper. "We'll use this as an example to explain something that's two dimensional. It's flat - you can see it only goes this way or that, not up or down. No depth."
"We've all heard of 3D - you can go see 3D movies now. It means you can see an extra dimension - not just a flat screen - you're able to see depth as well. This table is 3D - I can walk around it, go under it and over it."
He leaned importantly over the table, running his hands over the surface and side to demonstrate.
"We're all familiar with these dimensions, but scientists are saying that there are other dimensions besides the ones we all know. Time is another kind of dimension, but guess what - " He paused for effect, and the audience seemed to actually will him to go on.
"There are eleven dimensions in all! Eleven!" he said triumphantly, as though this was absolutely marvelous news. "We, as humans, in this universe, can only really see three of them, four if you count time, but scientists say there are eleven, and the eleventh one is the most exciting of all of them, because that's where there exists parallel universes!" His voice was so elated it was hard not to be caught up with his enthusiasm, and nearly the entire crowd had gathered to listen to his spiel.
"The eleventh dimension exists so close to us, and yet we can't see it. All around you, existing just like us, are other universes, countless universes, floating like these bubbles, in the eleventh dimension." He blew a heap of bubbles on to the surface of the water in the green bowl.
"See that one there?" he said, pointing to a nondescript bubble in the midst of all the others. "Imagine that's our universe, in there with all the others floating in the eleventh dimension." People were pushing forward, as though they really were hoping to see our own universe in hyperspace. "The other universes may have different universal laws, laws of nature. They may have different worlds, civilizations, species, and we just can't see them."
"Now, those bubbles look pretty happy there next to each other, pretty quiet and peaceful, but scientists think they might be rolling about on crazy waves, occasionally crashing into each other." Putting a hand on either side of the bowl, Michael tipped the water from side to side. The bubbles really only swooshed from left to right, hardly crashing, but we got the picture.
"The moment two universes crash together, you get the Big B
ang, and that's how another universe is made. That's how our universe began too."
There was murmuring among the crowd as they pondered this theory.
"All this is called M Theory. Membrane Theory. It is such a cool theory which explains so much, some people have decided the M should stand for Magic, or Mystery, or Majesty, but for this talk it's going to stand for Michael's Theory." There was a smattering of laughter.
He pointed to the bubbles. "This is what interests me the most. See the bubbles, those universes? See how some of them touch each other?" He pointed to the bubble he'd decided was our own universe. "Look at how those membranes touch each other, rub up against each other. How cool would it be if you could find a way to get through there, to visit other universes!"
He gestured at the balloons and stars. "We don't know what is in those other universes, who lives in them, how advanced they are. What if they've found a way to get through to us? What if they have already made some kind of star gate and they can travel to any universe they want? What if we could make a star gate and travel in and out of the other universes?"
There was more murmuring from the audience as people agreed it was an intriguing idea. I was impressed with Michael's alacrity - his enthusiasm and clarity of speech. I wasn't sure if he'd grasped the concept properly, but what he had said made sense to me.
When he finally finished his speech, he was rewarded with a big round of applause from the audience. Aric clapped him on the back then gave him a 'high 5', telling him he 'rocked it bro'. Uncle Tom beamed from ear to ear, while Aunt Janet fished out her digital camera and captured the occasion with a photograph.
Simon the bully was standing alone by his volcano which, after some clumsy, hasty repairs, didn't look quite as impressive as before. He scowled at the attention Michael was receiving; he was clearly feeling upstaged, and he didn't like it at all.
"Ladies and gentleman," he hollered like a carnie at a fairground attraction. "Come and witness the awesome power of nature - the ultimate in destructive forces! The might of a volcanic eruption!" He smirked triumphantly, (and in my opinion, prematurely) at Michael as the audience shuffled away from the star gate and headed to the big volcano.
Once the audience was in place, Simon didn't have a lot to say. He knew very few facts. After muttering something like 'volcanoes are powerful' and 'volcanoes have lava', his speech petered out. It didn't seem as if he'd done much research - the only effort he'd put into the project was the act of bullying Michael into making the volcano for him. The situation grew awkward as he stood, tongue-tied, trying to think of something to say.
His teacher stepped in. "Perhaps, Simon, you would like to show us how the volcano erupts." She looked pointedly at the bottle of vinegar in his hand.
Given a task to do, his awkwardness disappeared, and he puffed with self importance again.
"Now I am going to show you the awesome power of the volcano," he exclaimed theatrically. He climbed on to a chair - no mean feat considering his bulk and his obvious state of unfitness. Holding up the vinegar bottle, he waved his hand in a flourish at the top of the volcano.
"Observe!"
The audience waited with admirable patience. This was the fourth volcano they'd had to witness 'erupting' in one evening. Even the 'awesome power of nature' grew tedious when you had to watch it repeatedly.
Simon took the cap off the vinegar and tipped the bottle awkwardly over the mouth of the volcano. Presumably, as with most volcano models I'd seen before, there would be an open bottle hidden inside the top of the volcano. In the bottle, baking soda, water and detergent would react with the vinegar, which had been stained red with food coloring for a more authentic look, and thus produce the 'eruption'. Simon teetered on the chair, spilling half the bottle of vinegar down the side of the model. Eventually he managed to get some of the liquid into the opening. It began to froth immediately, but instead of spewing up and over the sides as the other volcanoes had done, it shot up into the air, arching over in a high pressured torrent, and hit Simon full in the face. He spluttered and snorted, and as he tried to get away from the squirting pink froth, he fell off the chair, landing with a thump in an inelegant heap on the floor. The volcano continued to 'erupt', its aim uncannily directed at Simon. He rolled left and right, and the torrent of bubbling froth coming from the volcano seemed to follow him until he was covered from head to toe in pink ooze. He turned on his hands and knees, desperately trying to get out of reach of the flow of 'lava', but his feet slipped in the puddle around him and he fell on to his belly, his breath escaping in a 'woomph' sound as the weight of his bulk winded him.
The volcano ceased erupting, and the flustered teacher came forward to help him up, trying unsuccessfully not to slip in the muck. The entire spectacle had really only lasted a few seconds, but it had seemed to last forever. The reaction of the audience was mixed: some adults were concerned, but many were trying not to laugh, their lips pressed together in an attempt not to smile, some hands flew up to faces to cover snickers. All the kids in the room were laughing hysterically, except for Michael, whose face was ashen. I was surprised - I would have thought, after being bullied for so long by Simon, Michael would have reveled in Simon's downfall, but he didn't look happy at all.
A man, who was apparently Simon's father, was laughing as hard as the kids at his son's misfortune. Any wonder his kid had turned out to be a bully. Simon blinked hard and tried to wipe the pink froth from his face. For a moment it looked as if he'd burst into tears. Instead his expression creased into a spectacle of rage and he let forth with a torrent of expletives, directing them at his insensitive father, who only laughed harder, dragged him up out of the mess by the back of his shirt, and led him out of the auditorium, leaving a trail of volcano lava footprints behind.
The principal quickly arranged for the mess on the floor to be cleaned up, and the science fair continued on uneventfully. Simon never returned to his volcano - I presumed his father had taken him home for a much needed shower. I almost felt sorry for him, but then I remembered the nasty taunts he'd aimed at Michael and Michael's obvious distress earlier in the week when we'd pressed him about doing a project on volcanoes. Simon had it coming to him. I remembered Aric's voice in my head - 'karma'. He'd said he had it all in hand. Had he fixed the volcano so it would spew all over Simon? I couldn't think how, or when he'd had a chance to do it. The volcano, which was in plain sight at all times in the middle of the room, had begun to keel over early in the evening, and Simon had tried to fix it. Perhaps, in his attempt to bend the top back upright again, he'd accidentally pushed the bottle containing the baking soda over so it was aimed sideways. If that were the case, karma had indeed come back to get him.
At the end of the evening we helped Michael disassemble his display. He pulled the swag of balloons apart and handed them out to the smaller kids attending the event. He seemed happy it was over, but he cast an occasional worried glance at Simon's abandoned disastrous display.
"You did great tonight." Uncle Tom ruffled his hair. "And I actually learned something! You know you explained it really well if an old man like me could understand it."
Michael's face was beaming. "It was Aric who explained it all. I couldn't have done it without his help."
Aric shrugged off the compliment. "You did all the hard work, buddy, and your speech was excellent."
I shoved the last of the stars into a plastic bag. "He's right," I agreed, "you explained it really well. I wish my science teacher would explain things as simply as you did - I might actually understand and get a decent grade if she did."
Michael blushed and preened at the same time. "Well, it was Aric who explained it to me."
Aunt Janet, who had gone to find Luke, arrived back at the table. Luke had scored two of the balloons and was holding them under each armpit, his arms sticking out as though he were about to flap them and fly away.
"Are we ready to go home then?" Uncle Tom asked.
"Can I go home with you, Aric?" Michael
asked. The expression in his face was now akin to hero worship.
"If it's okay with your folks."
It was decided Michael, Aric and I would stay and pack up the last of the display while Uncle Tom took Aunt Janet and Luke home. I heard Aunt Janet telling off Luke after he burst one of the balloons on his way out, frightening an old lady who'd been standing near the door.
While Michael was taking the plastic bowl away to tip the water out, I helped pull the posters down from the notice board. I was still wondering about Aric's role in Simon's downfall.
He looked down at me with a mischievous smile, his eyes sparkling.
"No, I didn't touch the volcano," he said. He pulled out the last of the thumbtacks and began to roll up a poster.
I looked at him open mouthed for a second. "Did I say you did?"
He laughed. "No, but that's what you were thinking."
I shrugged and rolled up another poster. "Well, yeah, it did cross my mind." The poster sprung out from its tight roll as soon as I let it go, and Aric handed me a rubber band. I rerolled the poster and snapped the rubber band around it.
"So the lava just happened to spew sideways and hit Simon in the face?"
I supposed, even if Aric had somehow found some time to tamper with the volcano, he had no way of knowing which side Simon would be standing anyway, so it would have been a fifty-fifty chance Simon would be standing in the right place.
"Like I said," Aric replied, "karma." He shoved the last of the posters in another bag, and gathered the rest of the bags together. "Ready to go?"
I picked up the backpack I'd brought from school, and as I turned to go, a puzzling thought came to me. I was sure I'd only heard the word 'karma' in my head at the playground. In Aric's voice. I'd imagined it - he hadn't said it out loud. I turned to confront him, but he was frowning, his attention directed at the doorway.
"Michael should be back by now," he said, dumping the bags. He took off at a fast pace across the auditorium and I followed after him. Michael had only been gone five minutes, surely not long enough to have found somewhere to tip the soapy water and returned to the auditorium, but there was a tense urgency to Aric's stride which was worrying and I was beginning to worry about Michael myself.
Starcrossed: Perigee - A paranormal romance trilogy Page 5
