Almost a Winner

by Molly B. Burnham

  Lonnie asks, “Have you won the inventors’ fair a lot?”

  Ms. Raffeli’s eyebrows pop up. “I have never won the inventors’ fair. But this year will be different. I’m sure.”

  “I bet a prize would help,” Viva says.

  Ms. Raffeli clears her throat. “It’s time for snack.” Which is her way of saying this conversation is over.

  We all stand up to get our snacks, and then under her breath Viva adds, “This is the weirdest inventors’ fair ever.”

  VIVA, HER MOM, AND MY STALE SANDWICH BREAD

  After snack, Ms. Raffeli talked more about the inventors’ fair, we did some math and reading, and finally it was time for lunch, which is my favorite part of the school day because Lonnie, Viva, and I can talk without anyone interrupting us. We always sit in the cafeteria at the table closest to the trash cans. Trust me, nobody else wants to sit here.

  Strange but true, the record for most people to squeeze into a Mini (one of the smallest cars in the world) is 27. Living with my family is like being stuck in that car all the time. There’s no escaping them, there’s no peace and quiet, and you usually have a foot pressed against your nose.

  If your life was like that, then all you would want is to have twenty minutes alone at lunch with your best friends.

  “Are we breaking a record today?” I ask.

  Lonnie smiles. “I already told my mom I was going to your house after school.”

  “Me too,” Viva says.

  “Really?” I ask.

  “She said I’m allowed to go but I’m not allowed to get hurt. Or sick. My mom definitely doesn’t want me doing anything that will make me sick.”

  We all take out our sandwiches. Lonnie says, “Looks like there was some bologna left today.”

  “That’s a plus,” I say, biting into it. I have to chew twice as much as Lonnie or Viva because the bread is so stale. According to The Guinness Book of World Records the first rocks on Earth were formed 4 billion years ago. Clearly my sandwich bread was formed at the same time. I even have to take a gulp of milk before I can speak again. “Okay,” I say. “So what record won’t hurt you or make you sick?”

  Lonnie says, “Does a record like that even exist?”

  “Probably not,” Viva says. “So we should just do what we want. I’ll take care of my mom.”

  I wish she could do the same for my sandwich bread.

  FRISBEES

  It was a long first day back. We talked a lot about the inventors’ fair. It’s finally the end of the day, and we’re packing up our stuff. I’m feeling extra restless because Lonnie, Viva, and I haven’t come up with a record to break. If we can’t think of anything, it will just be a waste of an afternoon.

  It turns out I can’t think of a single record that won’t hurt us or make us sick. While I’m stuffing my lunchbox into my backpack, a notebook swishes past my head.

  “See, Cornelio,” Lewis says, “I told you notebooks fly really well.”

  And suddenly, thanks to Lewis and his flying notebook, I think of a record. “The most Frisbees caught behind the back in one minute. It’s only twenty-four! We can beat that.”

  Viva smiles. “I am an excellent Frisbee thrower.”

  “Not as good as me,” Lonnie says.

  I’m not sure if I’m good or bad, because I’ve never actually played Frisbee. But how hard can it be? It’s just a piece of plastic.

  FAILED RECORD ATTEMPT #5

  What I’ve learned from this record is that throwing a piece of plastic is more complicated than I thought.

  “Lonnie,” Mom says, handing him a clean tissue, “keep the pressure on your nose and the bleeding will stop.”

  Mom passes Viva a bag of frozen peas. “We don’t want you getting a black eye, Viva.”

  “It’s so cold,” Viva says.

  Grace, who’s been watching us the whole time and taking pictures for the school newspaper, says, “Of course it’s cold. It’s frozen.” She clicks away.

  “What about me?” I ask.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Mom asks.

  “I sprained my wrist.”

  Mom wiggles my hand back and forth. “I’d be more worried about Viva’s mother than about your wrist.” And she walks away.

  Sometimes I don’t think Mom takes my problems seriously.

  THE KNOT IN MY THROAT

  After Lonnie and Viva leave, I go out to the aviary to feed the birds. I need a little time with just the pigeons, but when I walk in I get something totally different.

  The Destructor. Alone. Crouched on a bucket like a pigeon on a perch.

  Before I can speak, he says, “Look!” And he stands up. He’s wearing some kind of costume. There’s a hood with a beak that hangs down over his face. There are fake gray feathers sewn onto the shirt. He spreads his arm and I see wings. There’s even a giant PB drawn on the front. “It stands for Pigeon Boy,” he says, as if I couldn’t figure that out for myself. “Mom made it for me.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Mr. Marney said I can come over whenever I want. He said I can help you. He said I’m big enough now.” He stands on a bucket smiling at me, as if I should be so happy that he’s taking over my aviary, taking over my job.

  Strange but true, the biggest skateboard in the world is 36 feet long by 8 feet 8 inches wide and 3 feet 7.5 inches tall.

  The knot in my throat is bigger than that skateboard. And it hurts so much I can’t even yell at him.

  SHOULD HAVE KNOWN

  When I go to find Mom she’s mowing the lawn. Mowing the lawn is not something Mom does. It’s one of Dad’s jobs.

  I bring up my complaints about The Destruc-tor and she says, “It’s just a passing phase, Teddy. Ignore him.”

  A little while later, I catch Dad filling the washing machine with dirty clothes.

  “Do you even know how to do that?” I ask.

  “Ha, ha,” he says. “Very funny.”

  I’m not actually joking, but I don’t tell him that. Instead I tell him all about how The Destructor is taking over the aviary.

  “He’s just a little kid, Teddy. Don’t let him bother you.”

  I should have known. When it’s a problem I have, they don’t care, but wait until it’s about me cleaning my room—then they’ll be bothered.

  DON’T SAY A WORD

  That night at dinner The Destructor is still wearing his pigeon costume and eating under the table in what he calls a nest. I call it my favorite sweater, which is now too dirty and gross to ever wear again. I’m taking a bite of my food when I get shot with a wad of wet paper towel. The Destructor’s holding a slingshot and smiling at me.

  “Mom!” I say.

  “He wants to keep the pigeons safe. I think it’s sweet,” Mom says as she passes him a plate of food.

  “I think it’s dangerous, but no one listens to me.”

  “What’s with the outfit?” Caitlin and Casey ask together. No matter how many times they say the same thing at the same time, it’s always weird.

  Mom says, “Jake and I came to an agreement. I make him a pigeon costume and he stops making one for himself.”

  Grace takes out her camera and starts clicking.

  “Not at the table,” Dad says.

  “But I need three stories to share with the newspaper tomorrow,” Grace says. “I want to make the front page of the next issue, and if this isn’t a good story, I don’t know what is.”

  Maggie puts down her fork. “You should do a story about the track team.”

  Grace rolls her eyes. “Writing about people running around a track is not the kind of story I want to tell.”

  Caitlin and Casey say, “How about Trash Trikes?”

  “Maybe,” Grace says.

  Just then Sharon walks in.

  “How was the audition?” Mom asks.

  “Great. By tomorrow I’ll be the next Annie.”

  “Aren’t you a little old to be Annie?” Grace asks. “Isn’t she supposed to be ten?”


  Sharon is too distracted by The Destructor to answer. This is the first time she’s seen his new outfit.

  “Don’t say a word,” Mom says.

  And because Sharon is so happy about her audition, she doesn’t say a word, not to The Destructor or to Grace. This is extremely unusual because Sharon has a lot to say about most things. But then The Destructor reaches up for the mashed potatoes and his wing knocks the bowl of gravy right into Sharon’s lap.

  It’s amazing how much she has to say now that she’s coated in gravy.

  ADMIRAL ACKBAR

  Early the next morning, I go out to feed the birds.

  This is my favorite time of day. No one else is awake. Grumpy Pigeon Man never comes out, and I know The Destructor isn’t here. I left him in our room fast asleep.

  I’m happy to be alone with the pigeons. I feed them and water them and then turn a bucket over to watch them. I sit very still so they’ll land on me. This was not easy to learn, but now I’m a champion at sitting and not jiggling.

  Lando Calrissian flies down and lands on my knee. I pet his head. Lonnie, Viva, and I named a bunch of the pigeons after Star Wars characters. C-3PO paces back and forth right at my feet, like he’s got something to say but can’t figure out how.

  Grace thinks the pigeons are gross; I think they’re cool.

  Admiral Akbar flies down onto my other knee. Lando Calrissian walks up and down my leg. Admiral Ackbar copies him. Their heads bob up and down. And then all of a sudden Admiral Ackbar lunges at Lando Calrissian. His wings beat and he starts to peck. I stand up and Lando Calrissian flies off, landing on a perch. Admiral Ackbar struts around on the ground before taking his place on a different perch.

  C-3PO stays on the ground and coos. He doesn’t sound anything like C-3PO, but his coos feel like something C-3PO would say.

  I’ve never seen two pigeons fight before. It makes me sad. They’re not supposed to fight. I’ll have to remember to ask Grumpy Pigeon Man what’s going on.

  I stand up to leave just as the door swings open. It’s The Destructor, in his pigeon costume. “Why didn’t you wake me?” he asks, as if there was some kind of plan. As if I want him here.

  If I had wings and a beak, I’d scare him away like Admiral Ackbar did to Lando Calrissian. Instead, I shake my head and walk past him. Lonnie has been trying to teach me that sometimes when you’re angry, it’s much safer not to say a word. He says it’s the Jedi way.

  I’m sure he’s right, but it certainly doesn’t make me feel better.

  SWEATY AND STINKY

  Ms. Raffeli has us go straight to our seats as soon as we walk into class. “Today,” she says, “we become winners. We become inventors. We make history.” This time her eyebrows float up just like the record for the highest flight of a hot air balloon (68,986 feet), and instead of being startling those eyebrows are inspiring.

  Ms. Raffeli explains that she has taken out a pile of books on inventors and inventions and we should each pick one out, read it silently, and be ready to share our thoughts with the rest of the class.

  I’m reading about Thomas Edison right now. It’s one of those old, boring books with black-and-white pictures and a lot of words, and it makes me feel a little restless. I’m only on page two when I get to a word I don’t know. I lean over to Lonnie and Viva. “What’s a patent?” I ask.

  Lonnie says, “It’s the thing that proves that a person invented what they say they invented.”

  “Why would anyone lie about inventing something?” I ask.

  “Teddy, less talking, more reading,” Ms. Raffeli says from across the room.

  I nod and go back to my book. Thomas Edison always gets credit for the lightbulb, but it turns out people had been working on lightbulbs for fifty years. He did something to make it better, but to be perfectly honest, I don’t understand what.

  Edison also holds 2,332 patents for all his inventions, which must be some kind of world record, even though I’ve never found it in The Guinness Book of World Records.

  As usual, thinking about world records gets me thinking about breaking a world record. But I stop myself because Ms. Raffeli walks by. I can tell that this whole inventors’ fair is really important to her, so I go back to my reading.

  In the next chapter there are a bunch of quotes by Thomas Edison. I have to admit, he said some cool things:

  “Our greatest weakness lies in giving up.

  The most certain way to succeed is

  always to try just one more time.”

  “I have not failed, I’ve just found

  ten thousand ways that won’t work.”

  “Genius is one percent inspiration

  and ninety-nine percent perspiration.”

  The last one is a little weird because perspiration is sweat, and sweat is stinky, and why would you want to be stinky unless you couldn’t help it? And then for no reason at all I’m thinking about how breaking world records and inventing are really similar, because lots of times trying to break a record gets you sweaty and stinky. And that gets me thinking about what world record Lonnie, Viva, and I could break that is not stinky or sweaty.

  And this time Ms. Raffeli is not around to distract me!

  POSSIBILITIES

  That’s when I remember the garlic record. It’s for the most garlic eaten in a minute. This seems pretty cool because even though the record breaker ate 34 cloves and that sounds like a lot, it actually isn’t, because each piece of garlic probably has twenty cloves, and each clove is tiny, so it’s probably only two mouthfuls. I’m sure we could all force two mouthfuls down to break a record.

  This is it. This is our record!

  “Lonnie,” I say. “Viva. I’ve got the perfect record.”

  Lonnie doesn’t hear me. This is not surprising because he’s reading about someone called Nikola Tesla, and when he starts reading something interesting, he really gets into it. He doesn’t look up from his book but reads out loud. “It turns out Tesla and Edison were total rivals. Tesla created an electrical system, but Edison took the credit. Tesla also invented a laser, a way of taking x-rays, and the first remote-controlled boat.”

  Viva looks up. “I’m reading about women inventors,” she says. “In 1903, Mary Anderson invented windshield wipers. And the first flat-bottomed paper bag was invented by Margaret Knight in 1868.”

  “I’ve never thought about a paper bag being an invention,” Lonnie says.

  “Me neither,” Viva says.

  “Put your books down,” I say. “I’ve got a record for us to break.”

  “Teddy Mars!” Ms. Raffeli says. “How many times do I have to ask you not to distract your friends?”

  “If I’m going to be honest, I guess quite a lot.” I think Ms. Raffeli should appreciate my honesty about the situation.

  Instead she says, “Switch seats with Max.” Clearly proving she does not appreciate my honesty.

  THE SUN WILL COME OUT TOMORROW

  It’s so weird to sit at a new seat that all day long I have a hard time paying attention. The room looks different from here, and the voices sound different because they’re not Lonnie’s and Viva’s. Even the desk feels different, because it’s taller than mine. All these differences make my sharing what I learned about Thomas Edison not go well. Which means Ms. Raffeli has me eat lunch in the classroom so I can write up what I did learn. Unfortunately, this takes me longer than I thought it would, because it turns out I learned quite a lot about Thomas Edison. I ended up missing recess. Ms. Raffeli felt really badly about this, but by then there wasn’t anything to do. And the worst part was that I still hadn’t told Lonnie and Viva about the garlic idea.

  I was still distracted after recess, so I missed the homework directions, and now while everyone else piles out of the classroom, I have to wait for Ms. Raffeli to tell me the homework again. But, of course, I’m distracted by everyone piling out of the classroom, so I don’t hear what she says.

  When I ask her to repeat herself, she says, “Just go home, T
eddy. Tomorrow is bound to be better.”

  And by the time I get outside, I don’t see Lonnie and Viva anywhere.

  Ny and Serena run up to me. “Hey, Teddy!” Serena says. “Lonnie and Viva were waiting, but they didn’t know how long you’d be, so they went to Lonnie’s.”

  Ny says, “They said to call them when you get home.”

  Serena flips her hair right in my face and they run off.

  So now I’m walking home alone and for some reason I’ve got that song that Sharon keeps singing—the one about the sun coming out tomorrow—stuck in my head. I sure hope Ms. Raffeli is right about tomorrow because today was downright gloomy.

  NO MESSAGE

  As soon as I get home I call Lonnie. Jerome answers but won’t give the phone to Lonnie. He says, “It’s payback for the snot-bean threats.” And he hangs up.

  I decide to call Viva’s just in case they are there, but her mom answers and says, “Sorry, Teddy, Viva’s at Lonnie’s. Want to leave a message?”

  “No thanks,” I say. Sometimes it’s better not to say anything. I have a feeling that if I told Viva’s mom about my garlic idea, she would not like it and she’d actually put a stop to it. Can you imagine if Thomas Edison had a mom like Viva’s? He probably wouldn’t have invented a thing!

  At this moment, I realize that I’ve got to find a place we can break a record, because after the Frisbee attempt, we’re not allowed to do it at my house. We can’t do it at Lonnie’s. His parents both work and have a rule about having only one friend over in the afternoons. Obviously, Viva’s house is not an option.

  There’s got to be a solution to this problem, and thanks to Thomas Edison’s quote about inspiration and perspiration, I’m not giving up until I find it!

  Unless I get too stinky. Then I might take a break for a shower.

  MY TO-DO LIST #5

  I take out my to-do list number four. It’s getting way too long and messy so I throw it away and start a new list.