The Mad Scientists of New Jersey (Volume 1)

by Chris Sorensen

  “You were saying?” Babcock hissed.

  “You... you ignoramus!” Roxie sputtered.

  Lance stared at her. “Who’s this, your little girlfriend?”

  Babcock and Hedges cackled maniacally. Pudge shot Roxie a glance, and there was fire in his eyes. The expression on his face said, “Let me handle this.” He turned back to Lance and smiled.

  “Maybe we can work this out. You guys hungry? I think I’ve got some coupons to my pop’s place,” he said. He began scrambling around the boat, searching through its different compartments. “Free pizza, free soda, free refills.”

  “Your dad’s pizza is the worst. It tastes like roadkill,” Babcock snickered.

  “Yeah! Like roadkill pizza!” Hedges added gleefully.

  Babcock shook his head at Hedges. “Shut up.”

  Finding a loose stack of coupons stuck in amongst the boats insurance paperwork, a triumphant Pudge rose, holding the coupons high.

  “Who wants one?”

  “What’s that?” Lance asked. All eyes turned to the object in Eddie’s lap. Eddie quickly moved it behind him.

  “Nothing,” Eddie said.

  “Oooo! He’s hiding something, Lance!” Hedges said, ever the master of the obvious.

  “Hand it over,” Lance said.

  “It’s mine,” Eddie said, and the moment he said it, he knew it was true. The thing, whatever it was, was his, and he would protect it from anyone. Even from someone as intimidating as Lance.

  Lance nodded to Hedges who quickly scrambled over to the pontoon boat. He grabbed the nut in his beefy hands. Eddie held on tight.

  “Give over!” Hedges grunted.

  “Not happening!” Eddie shouted, but he was losing his grip. In a couple of seconds, the oaf would have it.

  The nut coughed.

  Wisps of steam puffed out the sides. There was a sizzling sound, like hamburgers hitting the grill, and Hedges released his grip.

  “Argh! He burned me! The little squirt burned me!” Hedges cried. He backed away from Eddie, tumbling back into the powerboat before thrusting his reddened hands into the lake. “Oooo--aahhh!” he sighed.

  “What’d you do to him?” Lance sneered, his mustache twitching.

  “N-nothing!” Eddie said. “I swear!”

  Lance fumed. He turned to Pudge. “Toss me your tow line.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m towing you in, munch,” Lance growled.

  Roxie stood. “On what grounds?”

  “What?”

  “On what grounds are you towing us in? Are we breaking any regulations? If so, please tell us which. And be specific. I want to be sure to give all the details to my father. He’s a lawyer, you know. Civil cases, mostly. Liability, injury, that sort of thing. And so I repeat – on what grounds are you towing us in?”

  Befuddled, Lance looked to his buddies. Babcock looked nervous, but Hedges steps forward to address Roxie’s question.

  “On the grounds that you better shut up!” piped up Hedges.

  Lance glared at him. “Don’t help me.”

  Suddenly the nut quivered in Eddie’s hands. It let out an electric squeak. Instantly, the powerboat’s engine surged and the boat lurched forward. Its bow collided with the pontoon boat, toppling the Mustache Mafia over each other.

  “You... you... I’ll...!” Lance sputtered, but before he could get his threat out, the powerboat roared to life once more, veering away from the island and off toward the distant shore. As the boat sped away, Eddie could still hear Hedges shrieking about his burned hands.

  After a moment, Roxie spoke. “That was odd.”

  “Odd? That was downright weird,” said Pudge. “Eddie, what the heck is that thing?”

  Eddie looked down at the nut. “I don’t know. But it seems to like me,” said Eddie.

  “It didn’t scald you like it did that big ox, did it?” Roxie asked.

  Eddie set the nut down between his feet and held out his hands. Nope. Not a burn to be seen.

  “Yessir, downright weird,” said Pudge.

  “It’s good to know your dad’s a lawyer in case those jerks try to get back at us,” said Eddie.

  “Oh, he’s not a lawyer.”

  “But you said...” said Eddie.

  Roxie shrugged. “That’s another thing you should know about me. I lie. A lot.”

  Pudge snorted, and soon all three of them were rolling with laughter.

  “Did you see the look on Hedges’ face when it burned him? I thought he was going to pee his swimsuit,” Pudge cackled.

  Eddie picked the nut back up. It was cold to the touch. He shook it. Nothing. Whatever juice had made it suddenly come to life had apparently drained away.

  The peal of church bells sounded out from across the water. Six o’clock.

  “I need to get home,” said Roxie.

  Pudge’s face dropped. “But you said you’d help us figure out what to do for our science projects.”

  “I need to go.”

  “And I need a project!” Pudge whined.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll text you some ideas later. Now, get this leaky bucket moving so I don’t miss dinner.”

  “Fine,” said Pudge. He turned the ignition, the engine sputtered to life and the pontoon boat slowly headed away from the island.

  Roxie sidled up to Eddie. She didn’t say anything, just stared down at the nut. Eddie sniffed the air. What was that smell?

  “It’s pine air freshener,” said Roxie, freaking him out once again with her seemingly psychic ways. “My dad got me some perfume last Christmas, but it smells like old ladies. I prefer pine.”

  “It’s... nice,” lied Eddie.

  “So, it looks like you’ve already got your science experiment figured out.”

  “How do you mean?” Eddie asked.

  Roxie nodded to the nut. “If you can get it to do those whacky things again, you’re a cinch to get an A. Call your project something like The Mysterious Lake Nut or The Super-Nut-ural Wonder or... I don’t know. Something cool like that. Old Cupboard will flip.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. Let me tell you a little secret about teachers. Most of them are bored out of their skulls. The substance of your project doesn’t matter to them as long as you make it interesting. And that,” she said, pointing at the nut, “is interesting.”

  “Doesn’t help me none,” Pudge mumbled.

  “Quit your complaining. I’ve got three ideas that are guaranteed to get you at least a B,” Roxie called back to him. “If you pick it up, pizza boy.”

  “B?” Pudge asked. “Picking it up, Roxanne Michael.” He punched the throttle and the boat shuddered as it reached top speed.

  “That’s Michaels with an S! And it’s Roxie, never Roxanne!” Roxie shouted over the roar of the engine. Pudge just laughed.

  As the Cheesy Breezy made a beeline for the shore, the object in Eddie’s lap made a single, plaintive bleep.

  “What are you?” he wondered.

  As Eddie approached his house, he noticed a new section of bare roof where the shingles had fallen away. It was directly above his bedroom window. He’d have to shimmy up there before the next big rain and patch it. The extra shingles he’d found in the garage were red and the rest of the roof was black, but shingles were shingles after all.

  He looked around at the other houses on Mulberry Street. Neat, tidy homes with manicured lawns, yard gnomes and satellite dishes. He turned back to his own house. 734 Mulberry Street. Compared to the others, 734 Mulberry was a rotten apple.

  He hopped off his bike, a second-hand deal his dad had brought back from one of his garage sale excursions, and headed for the front door, the nut secure in his backpack.

  “Mom, I’m home...” He stopped short. The red light in the foyer
was on. He sighed and took of his shoes. Red meant his mother was recording. Red meant he had to be quiet.

  He tiptoed toward his room, which was through the living room, past the door to the basement and down the hall. How many times had he made it down the hall without letting the floorboards squeak underfoot? Three? Four? Maybe he’d be lucky today. Maybe...

  SQUEAK!

  He grimaced, lifted his offending foot off the offending floorboard and waited for the call from the basement he knew would surely come. And it did.

  “Eddie!”

  He’d done it now. He ruined her take. He might as well get to his room while the getting was good.

  He slipped quickly into his bedroom where his old mutt Cooper lay waiting for him on his bed. As usual, Cooper had dragged some of his dirty clothes up onto the bed and had turned them into a nest of sorts. His tail thumped as he saw Eddie, but he didn’t bark. The red light was on. Cooper knew better than to bark.

  “Hey, boy,” Eddie whisper and gave the pooch a scratch behind the ears. Cooper grunted with pleasure.

  As soon as Eddie slipped off his backpack, the dog sat upright in bed. His eyes went wide and his lip curled back, showing his teeth. He let out a sound Eddie had never heard before.

  “Cool it, Coop,” Eddie said, but the dog was on high alert. He stared at Eddie’s backpack like it was a predator invading his territory. He barked, and he wouldn’t stop.

  “Stop Cooper! Stop it, boy! Please!” begged Eddie, his voice struggling to remain a whisper and not quite doing it. “Hush, now. Hushhh!”

  The sound of a door slamming in the basement stopped both Eddie and Cooper cold. Immediately, the dog leapt off the bed and scurried under it. Eddie closed his eyes and waited as he heard his mother coming up the stairs. He sat on the bed.

  “Thanks a lot, Cooper,” he grumbled.

  Linda Edison poked her head into her son’s room.

  “I guess someone didn’t see the red light,” she said.

  Eddie didn’t look up. His eyes were on Cooper’s tail sticking out from under the bed. His mother came into the room and sighed.

  “I know it’s not easy, Eddie. But I need to ask you again to please, please, please keep the noise down when I’m in my recording studio. I’ve got ten radio spots for the community college and three auditions to record. Things are starting to pick up, but that means I’m going to have to spend more time in the booth, so could you please…”

  “Keep the noise down,” Eddie said.

  His mother walked over to him and sat next to him on the bed. She slumped against him and they just sat there for a while — two of a family of three.

  “I’m sorry,” his mother said.

  “No, I’m sorry. I know you’re working. I know we need the money. If Dad was here...”

  His mother stopped him by putting her hand on his shoulder. Talking about his father, while being something they both sorely wanted to do, had a way of stopping them in their tracks. Talking about him always led to the same place — a dead end. No hope. No answers. No Dad.

  “What commercials are you auditioning for?” he asked instead.

  She smiled and said, “An antacid, an antidiuretic and a funeral home.”

  “Fun stuff,” Eddie said.

  His mother nudged Cooper’s tail with her foot. He thumped it happily, enjoying the game. “Looks like someone’s hiding from the wrath of Mom,” she said.

  “Once he heard you coming, he made a quick getaway. He’s smarter than me,” said Eddie.

  Linda Edison rose. “I’d better get back to it. Can I have quiet for the next hour and a half? Would you mind doing that for me?”

  “No problem, Mom.”

  “I love you,” she said.

  “Love you back.”

  As his mother turned, the thing in his backpack let out a slight electronic whoop. Just a little one, like something a smartphone might make when sending an email. She turned. “What was that?”

  Eddie grabbed his backpack and muffled it under his arms. “Nothing.”

  “Well, try to keep nothing quiet, will you?”

  “Sure thing, Mom.”

  Then she was gone. Eddie waited until he heard the basement door close, heard her footsteps disappear down into the basement. Then he relaxed back onto the bed.

  The thing in the backpack warbled. Cooper growled underneath the bed.

  Eddie stuck his head under the bed and said, “Okay, Coop. Time to go to your house.”

  Annoyed but resigned, Cooper crawled out from under the bed and trotted out the door and down the hall to his house, the dog crate in the guest room, where he wouldn’t have to put up with warbling backpacks.

  Eddie closed the door.

  He carefully lifted the nut out of the pack. It was odd seeing it here in his room. It seemed unreal, yet here it was.

  He set it on the bed and trained his desk lamp on it. A giant walnut. A giant silver walnut. From where? From outer space?

  While having the answer might be nice, it would do him diddlysquat in Mr. Hubbard’s class. He needed a science project idea to present by tomorrow morning, and he needed this nut to be it.

  “Let’s see what makes you tick.”

  Eddie opened a desk drawer, rummaged around and fished out his pocketknife. Another of Dad’s garage sale finds. He’d said every boy needs a pocketknife. When Eddie had asked him what for, he’d simple answered, “For when you’re in a pinch.”

  He flicked the knife open, the big broad blade shining in the lamplight, and attempted to slip the blade in the crease that delineated the two sections of the nut. As soon as the metal blade touched the metal nut, a jolt of electricity shot up his arm, across his chest, up his neck and his jaw clamped shut, almost catching his unsuspecting tongue.

  “Whoa!” Eddie breathed as he tossed the knife aside. “Guess you didn’t like that.”

  As he stared at the nut, a phrase popped into his head. Where he’d heard it, he hadn’t a clue. Fight fire with fire was how the phrase went.

  “Fire? What in the...?” Then it hit him. Electricity! Fight electricity with electricity.

  Eddie quickly took inventory of the room. The lamp. Should he cut its cord, strip the wires, using them as some sort of defibrillator to shock the thing into opening? No. Common household current was only common in name – he knew from a failed attempt to rewire his mom’s vacuum cleaner what a wallop common household current could pack.

  “Lawnmower!” Eddie thought.

  Instead of attempting the trek down the squeaky hallway, Eddie opened his bedroom window and crawled out instead. Once in the front yard, he dashed around to the side of the house where he kept the lawnmower. While it wasn’t ancient, it wasn’t new. Just new enough to be the self-starter type with a...

  “Battery!” Eddie said as he yanked the lawnmower’s innards out.

  Soon, he was back in his room, his hands covered in oil, the grimy battery sitting on the bed next to the nut. Eddie grabbed hold of the two cables leading from the battery and held them gingerly on either side of the object.

  “Here goes nothing,” he hummed.

  He brought the cables into contact with the shiny metal surface. The cables gave off a shower of sparks, smoke rose, the smell of burning metal filled the room.

  When the smoke had cleared, the nut remained untouched. “Yup, ‘nothing’ is right,” Eddie said.

  ***

  After his mother had finished recording her auditions, Eddie set about laying a tarp over the bare patch on the roof. It would have to do in case they got rain before he was able to lay down the new shingles. And from the angry look of the sky, that rain could come sooner than later.

  By the time he was done, his mother had dinner ready. Microwave dinners seemed to be on the menu more and more these days, but Eddie didn’t complain. Mom had a lot o
n her mind.

  It was around nine o’clock when he finally headed back to his room, dreading the thought of going to school the next day. What would he say when

  Mr. Hubbard called on him to present his project? A hundred scenarios played out in his mind, none of them good.

  He decided to call Pudge and see how he was getting along.

  “Hey Eddie. S’up?”

  “Just working on my presentation. How’s yours going?”

  “I’m all set, dude. That Roxie may be a weird one, but she gave me a killer idea. You know how my pop’s pizza is so greasy?”

  “Greasiest in town.”

  “Be quiet. Well, she said I should come up with a new kind of plate just for pizza. A plate that drinks up all the grease. Pretty cool, huh?”

  Eddie gulped. Even Pudge had his idea down. “So... you’re all ready for tomorrow?”

  “Heck, I was ready two hours ago. I’m watching Bee Tornado. You seen it yet? Man, I hate bees!”

  Eddie let Pudge get back to his movie. He walked over to where the nut was perched on the bed and set it down in the closet. “I’ll deal with you later,” he said and closed the door.

  He flopped back down on the bed. A rumble of thunder threatened the night. Concentrate, Edison! Time to brainstorm. What do you want to work on? How about... or what if... or maybe I could...

  Before the next roll of thunder, Eddie’s eyes closed and he dropped to sleep.

  A tremendous flash of lighting woke Eddie with a start. He sat up in bed and looked around the room. It was pitch dark. The power must be out. How long had he been asleep?

  “Mom?” he called, but Mom was on the other side of the house, and after a long day of recording she’d be out like a light. Out like all the lights.

  He felt a drop of water hit his forehead and he peered upward. He clicked on his phone and raised it above his head, letting its screen light up the ceiling. In the dim glow, he could see a brown stain spreading across the ceiling, bubbling the paint.

  He heard a flapping sound outside, quickly opened the window and stuck out his head. The rain pelted his face, and in the next flash of lightning he saw the tarp hanging from the gutter. The bare patch on the roof must be right above his head.