by Raymond Bean
I thanked Mr. M., although I didn’t know why, and walked back to class. Before I walked in, I took off my Go Gooz shirt and threw it in the garbage.
CHAPTER 20
Corn
I took the bus straight home after school. I hadn’t talked to Anthony or Scott the rest of the day. I must have been called Gooz, or Goozer, a hundred times. The bus was no different. As I got off, Mrs. Grimp said, “Remember, tomorrow you’re going to be on time. Right, Gooz?”
I shot her a look as I climbed down the steps.
I walked along the snow-covered street, feeling pretty crummy. It was bad enough that the fair was coming faster than lightning, but it was worse the way everyone was treating me.
I opened the front door and ran for my room. I felt the tears coming as I got to my door. I fell onto my beanbag chair facedown and started crying like crazy. There I was, ten years old and behaving like my kid sister had that morning. I was completely falling apart. Somehow I needed to figure out a way to get it together. At this pace, I wouldn’t even make it to the fair. I’d be hiding out in my closet by the end of the week.
“What’s going on, pal?” I heard my dad say.
“Yeah, honey, are you okay?” Mom chimed in.
“Oh, I’m just great,” I said through my tears. “I’m pretty much the laughingstock of the whole school. And after the fair, I’m going to be the laughingstock of the whole world!” I couldn’t believe how hard I was crying. It was like I was three again or something.
My parents both sat down on the floor next to me. “It’s going to be okay, Keith,” my mom said softly. “You’ll figure out a way through it. You always do.”
“Yeah, buddy,” my dad added. “Things seemed pretty bad a few weeks before the last fair, too, and you pulled it off.”
From under the blankets on my bed I heard, “Yeah, big brothow, you will figure something out.” I sat up and wiped the tears from my eyes.
“Why are you in my bed?” I asked Emma.
“I’ve been here all day,” Emma said, pushing the covers off her head. “I had a bellyache this morning, and Mommy let me stay home. I wanted to wait for you.”
“You let her stay home all day?” I asked my mom.
“Yes, I’m worried about her. She seems weak, and she wasn’t feeling well. I don’t know what else to do.”
“Mom, you can’t let her stay home from school and eat candy and chips. Emma did you eat anything today besides candy or chips?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said proudly.
“Really? What was it?” I asked hopefully, wiping the last of the tears from my eyes.
“I had corn,” she said.
“Good, Emma. Corn is really good for you.”
“Keith,” my mom interrupted. “It was candy corn.”
CHAPTER 21
The Deal
Mom and Dad left my room and went to the kitchen to make a dinner that Emma definitely would not eat. I stayed in my room and tried to work on my computer. Emma was on the floor playing with her Hair Style Suzie doll. She was talking to herself as she played.
“Your hair is a mess, Suzie. It’s a good thing you came in for your aportmin.” She was pretending to cut the doll’s hair with her plastic toy scissors.
I looked at my computer screen. I couldn’t believe that I was still on the “Problem” portion of the scientific method. The word problem glared back at me, tauntingly. As if to say, “I dare you to think of a problem. You’re no scientist. You got lucky last time.”
“Emma,” I said, “what would you do for the science fair if you were me?”
“That’s easy,” she said without hesitating. “I would invent something that makes chicken taste like candy canes.”
That was it! My little sister had just solved my problem. I’d been driving myself nuts trying to find the one thing in the world that bothered me most, and it was right in front of me all along. The thing that bothered me most, right then, was the fact that my sister wouldn’t eat anything.
“You’re a genius, Emma!”
“I know,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
The idea came out of nowhere. One minute, I had no clue what my project would be, and then in an instant, it was there as clear as day. I started typing out the rest of the scientific method.
Problem/Question: Can I invent something that makes one type of food taste and smell like another type of food? For example, can I make chicken taste like candy canes?
Then I opened my Internet browser and typed: “Healthy foods kids hate to eat?”
I read a bunch of information about how liver is a healthy food for kids. It has all kinds of vitamins and minerals, and is super gross to boot, so I decided to experiment with liver instead of chicken.
I would try to find a way to change the awful taste of liver to the delicious taste of candy canes. Emma loves candy canes more than anyone I have ever met. Every year she gets so excited when the store finally has them, usually right after Halloween.
I deleted the part about chicken and changed it to liver. Then I continued typing.
Hypothesis: I think I can invent something that will make liver taste like candy canes.
I knew this had to be more than an ingredient of some sort. It had to be something that actually changed the liver so much that it wouldn’t taste like liver at all.
This idea was perfect. All parents have trouble getting little kids to eat healthy foods. The challenge would be to create a way to do more than just season food. This invention had to change the food so much that kids wouldn’t be able to taste the difference.
Materials: Emma, a few pounds of liver, and some way to make the liver taste like candy canes.
Procedure: I will change liver in a number of different ways in order to make it taste like candy canes. I will feed it to my sister, and she will give me feedback on the liver’s taste.
Results:
I couldn’t do that yet because I didn’t know what would happen. I stopped typing.
“Emma, tomorrow you’re coming with me to the lab,” I announced.
“I am? Promise?” she squealed.
“I promise. The only rule is you can’t tell anyone what my experiment is, and you have to come with me and eat dinner right now.”
I explained the idea to her, and she was all excited. And for the first time in who knows how long, my little sister went downstairs and ate her dinner. She looked like she might give up a few times over the course of the meal. She said, “This is awful,” about a hundred times, and she even cried at one point, but she ate it. Mom and Dad looked on in disbelief. When Emma was done she turned to me and said, “We have a deal.”
“Yes,” I said. “We have a deal.”
“What are you two talking about?” Mom asked. “How in the world did you get Emma to finally eat? I am absolutely astonished! Emma, I am so proud of you! Keith, how did you do this?”
“Trust me, Mom,” I said. “Just trust me.”
CHAPTER 22
Nothing Good Ever Is…
The next day Emma and I got to the lab before anyone else. I had arranged for Mr. Carson, one of Mr. Gonzalez’s scientists, to pick us up early from our house. I didn’t want anyone to know what I was working on with Emma, even Mom and Dad.
“Okay, Mr. Carson, I finally know what I’m going to do for my experiment,” I proudly announced once we’d arrived at the lab.
“Nothing like waiting until the last minute,” he said. “Mr. Gonzalez was starting to worry about you.”
“I thought he was unreachable. You mean you’ve talked to him?”
“Of course. You think a man like that goes away and can’t communicate? Do you understand how important he is, Keith?”
“I do. It’s just that he told me he couldn’t be reached.”
“Couldn’t be reached by you. He knew if you could reach him, you would be calling him for help. He wanted this to be your idea, like the last one. Now, what is the idea? We don’t
have a lot of time.”
Emma and I spent the next hour explaining to him all about her difficulty eating food. I explained that I didn’t want to simply season food—I wanted to change food so completely that it would taste nothing like the way it normally tastes but would still be good for you.
“I’m not sure I totally follow,” he replied.
“For example, let’s say Emma was eating a piece of liver.”
Emma made a face.
“I want the liver to change completely in texture, smell, and taste so that she thinks she’s eating a candy cane.”
For a good long minute Mr. Carson just looked at me, and then he said, “We could experiment with altering the molecular makeup of different foods, so that it gives the person eating one food the illusion of eating another.” He paused and then said, “Intriguing…You may be a great scientific mind after all, Keith. You are talking about molecular gastronomy. There are many famous chefs experimenting with this in fancy restaurants around the world right now. I don’t know of anyone focusing on changing foods so children eat better, though. If you could solve this age-old problem, it would be quite a discovery. My kids won’t eat anything but hot dogs and pizza without a struggle. It is not going to be easy, of course, but no good thing ever is. Our biggest problem now is we only have one week until Mr. Gonzalez returns!”
CHAPTER 23
The Helen Winifred Show Pre-Interview
The weekend before Mr. Gonzalez came back into town, some people from The Helen Winifred Show came to shoot footage of our family at home, my school, and me in the lab.
Mom was a complete wreck all week. She went to the hair salon three times and had a manicure, a pedicure, the works. Emma also went with Mom and had her hair done up all fancy. They both got completely new outfits. Then Mom got an e-mail from one of the show’s producers saying that they wanted our family to dress and act like we normally do. They wanted to get an idea of what our family was like on an average weekend day.
Mom got triple worried after that e-mail. “They want to see what we are like on a normal day? They want to see what we are like on a normal day? We are completely not normal on a normal day!” I heard her telling my dad in the kitchen as I finished up my dinner at the dining room table.
“It will be fine,” my dad reassured her. “Emma is eating again. Keith seems calmer about his experiment…You do have an idea now, right, son?” he shouted to me.
I got up from the table and went into the kitchen. “Yeah, and I think it’s a pretty good one, too. I just don’t know if there’s enough time. The best part is that Emma’s helping me.”
“What do you mean? How is Emma going to help you?” Mom asked.
“I don’t want to give it away, but let’s just say you’re going to like it.”
“If Emma keeps eating, I don’t care what it is; I will like it.”
“They’re here! They’re here!” Emma shouted, running into the kitchen.
“Okay, everyone, please be as normal as possible. I’m sure these people are looking for any opportunity to make us look like crazy people,” Mom said.
“It’ll be fine, Mom. Relax.” How come I’m the calm one? I thought.
Emma ran up to the door. “Who is it?” she asked.
“Debbie Francis, the producer of The Helen Winifred Show in New York,” a voice called back.
Emma opened the door and gave a long, dramatic bow.
“Oh my! Aren’t you the cutest little thing?” Mrs. Francis exclaimed.
Emma curtsied and let one go so loud I thought Debbie Francis’s eyes were going to leap out of her head. Behind her, a cameraman was pointing his camera directly at Emma.
“Good afternoon and welcome to the house that Farts built,” Emma announced. “Farts is my brother’s new nickname, but you can also call him Gooz. That means ‘fart’ in Farsi.”
“Well, that was quite a welcome,” Mrs. Francis replied, trying to keep from laughing. My dad grabbed Emma and carried her off.
“I’m so terribly sorry,” my mom said. “Emma is not herself these days, what with the excitement of Keith inventing Sweet Farts and a TV crew coming to our house. Please forgive us.” She turned to the cameraman. “Please erase that, I am begging you.”
“Sorry, lady,” he replied. “That sort of thing happens once in a lifetime. Helen Winifred is going to love it!”
“Oh dear,” my mom said, turning a deep shade of pink.
“Relax, Mom,” I whispered. I turned back to Mrs. Francis. “Hi, I’m Keith Emerson. Please come in. My mother is just having a mind melt. She’ll be fine in a little while.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Francis said. She came in and sat on the couch in the living room. The cameraman asked if he could walk around and videotape some of the house. I told him it was fine. Mom just sat on the couch next to me. It was as if she had gone into shock. She just smiled. She didn’t say a word, just smiled. From Emma’s room I could hear her saying, “What’s the problem? Fawting is the family business!”
Clearly, I was going to have to carry this interview. I was on my own.
And as you can probably guess, the pre-show interview was pretty awkward. My mom said nothing, and Emma kept shouting about the family business. I think Mrs. Francis got the impression that it wasn’t a good time, because after about a half hour, she and the cameraman left. I told them I would catch up with them at the lab in a little while. They thanked us and headed off to visit the school and then the lab. I stayed home to help Mom snap out of it.
CHAPTER 24
Mr. Gonzalez Returns
When I arrived at the lab on Monday afternoon, Mr. Gonzalez was in my lab with Mr. Carson. When I walked in, they both stopped talking and turned to me.
“Hi, Keith. I was just speaking with Mr. Carson, and I’m very interested in your idea. I think you are definitely onto something here with your molecular gastronomy project. I just wish you had thought of it sooner. Making any sort of progress is going to be really hard in just a week’s time.”
“I know,” I said.
“I understand that you and Mr. Carson have worked very hard during the last week experimenting with different methods of altering liver to taste and smell like candy canes. We have arranged for a little taste test in a few minutes to see what kind of progress you have made. In the meantime, why don’t you show me how you plan to record your results?”
I sat down at my computer and pulled up the files I had been working on all week with Mr. Carson. “Okay,” I said. “Just like I did with Sweet Farts, I am going to use a rubric to rate the taste of the food on a scale from 1 to 4.”
Mr. Gonzalez read the rubric over my shoulder:
Candy Cane Liver Rubric:
4 = Liver tastes exactly like a candy cane.
3 = Liver tastes mostly like a candy cane but has some qualities of liver.
2 = Liver tastes slightly like a candy cane but has many qualities of liver.
1 = Liver tastes like liver. Not at all like a candy cane.
“All right, it seems like you have put some thought into this after all. Who do you plan to test?”
“I was thinking about testing my sister, since she’s the one who came up with the idea in the first place.”
“Your little sister came up with this idea?” he asked, amazed.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know it was supposed to come from me; it’s just that she was having such trouble eating food. She didn’t want to eat anything, and I was really starting to worry about her. So I figured that if I did this, I might be able to help her.”
“Keith, there’s nothing wrong with getting the idea from your sister. Scientists have to listen to the world around them if they hope to make inventions that people actually need and care about. I’m just impressed that such a young person came up with such an amazing idea.”
“Yeah, well, my sister is something else.”
“I hear that her class is something else, too, and if I’m not mistaken, that is them pulling up right
now.” Through the window I could see a bus pulling into the lab parking lot. I looked at Mr. Carson.
“You don’t have a lot of time. You need to gather data as quickly as possible, so I suggested to Mr. Gonzalez that we invite Emma’s class in for a taste test. Go print out about thirty copies of your rubric, and grab a bunch of crayons from somewhere. These kids are going to be hungry.”
“We aren’t ready,” I reminded him.
“Time waits for no man, Keith. This is going to be your first trial. You have to start somewhere. You know the fifty pieces of liver we altered last week? They’re in the refrigerator. Go get them. Let’s see if the great Keith Emerson has done it again.”
CHAPTER 25
A Classic
I walked out of the lab room with a large tray of what I hoped would be Candy Cane Liver, and saw Emma and her entire class sitting at tables set up on the basketball court. They were so loud, I couldn’t believe it. Emma came running up to give me a hug.
“Hey, Emma, this is a surprise. Are you excited to try the liver I’ve been working on?”
“I sure am,” she said enthusiastically. “I told my whole class that you fixed food for evow.”
“Well, Emma, I’ve only been at it for about a week. I can’t say if it is going to work or not.”
Emma pointed her finger at me as if shooting a gun, and fired one off.
“Emma, you really have to get your gas under control. Remember, we talked about this. You can’t pass gas like that at school.”
“I don’t want to control it,” she said. “Today I took Pickle scent. It’s a classic, Keith. Enjoy.” Emma went back to her seat, beaming.
