by Luke Sharpe
She sprinkles the powder onto all of the food. I pop a Brussels sprout into my mouth.
KERRRR-POW!
A taste unlike anything I’ve ever experienced explodes onto my taste buds. I can’t even describe it or compare it to any other food. It just tastes fantastic!
“This Brussels sprout is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” I say.
Manny picks up a small dab of horseradish. Normally even a tiny taste can cause him to choke and tear up. Manny eats it, then grabs more.
“Amazing!” he says.
Finally, we grab handfuls of chocolate chips and each eat some. We all look at each other and smile.
“It’s like all the goodness of chocolate, times a million!” Emily cries.
“This is fantastic!” I say, starting to feel better about my doubts with the Best Test. Having a great backup product always makes abandoning the first idea much easier to swallow—so to speak. “This could be a hit for Sure Things, Inc. After all, Emily is a Sure,” I say, mostly to Manny.
“I agree,” Manny says. I can see the wheels spinning in his brain just from the expression on his face. “But we need to field test it with a bigger sample group before we can think about making it one of our products.”
That’s when it hits me.
“I’ve got it!” I announce. “What if we tested it on the pickiest eaters in the world—middle school kids?!”
“You mean, see if we can make even cafeteria food taste good?” asks Emily.
“We should try it with food that’s even more disgusting,” I say. “What if Dad cooks a special dinner as a fund-raiser for the inventors club? Principal Gilamon is always encouraging parents to get more involved in school activities. We can invite everyone in the school to try out our new product. Dad will think we’re celebrating his great cooking. But we’ll make sure to sprinkle a little powder on all the food before the kids eat it—without him knowing of course. If the kids like the food, he’ll feel great, and we’ll know that powder works on anything!”
“Let’s do it!” says Manny, returning to his desk to start working on a marketing plan for Emily’s powder, though I see him check the auction website in a new tab.
At dinner that night, Dad serves up something he calls beet surprise.
“What’s the surprise?” Emily asks.
“The surprise,” Dad says, “is that the beets are stuffed with more beets!”
“Great,” Emily says. Then as Dad heads back to the kitchen, she leans over and whispers to me, “I hate beets!”
Before Dad returns, Emily sprinkles a little of her powder on each of our servings.
“Well, dig in!” says Dad, joining us at the table.
I cut into my beet, discover the beet stuffing, and munch on a forkful.
KERRRR-POW!
“Wow, this is really delicious,” I say. And, thanks to Emily’s powder, I’m telling the truth.
“So, Dad, I had an idea about how you could get more people to sample your cooking,” I say.
“I’m all ears,” Dad says. “Which reminds me. I should pick up some corn—I have a corn and blue cheese soup recipe that I’ve been dying to try out.”
“Mmhmm. So anyway, we’re thinking of holding a fund-raiser for the inventors club. How would you like to come out and cook dinner for everyone?” I ask. “You plan the menu. You cook the food. And Emily, Manny, and I will help serve.”
“FANTASTIC!” Dad says. “I’ll start planning the menu tonight!”
As I help Dad clean up after dinner, I notice that my spinach plants are thriving. They are twice as big as when I bought them. Hmmm, maybe I really am good at growing spinach. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not good at inventing. My enthusiasm for the Best Test is fading the more I think about it.
• • •
Manny advertises the fund-raiser dinner so much, we have enough kids to fill the entire cafeteria on the evening of the event! I’m really excited to try Emily’s product out on the pickiest eaters.
Dad arrives after school and Emily walks over from the high school. He made all of the food at home because the kitchen can only be used by cafeteria staff. Apparently they’re really picky about that. Who knew?
“Can you grab that?” he asks, pointing to a large cooler in the back of his car.
I carry the cooler, Manny takes a tray of food, and Emily picks up a case of juice. We bring everything into the cafeteria.
As each delicacy is unwrapped, Emily, Manny, and I take it and place it out where the kids can help themselves—but not before sprinkling each dish with some of Emily’s powder first!
“This is a great idea, Billy!” Samantha says when she spots us setting up the buffet. “You’re so smart! I bet your dad is amazing! I mean, he has to be. He’s your dad!”
Manny looks at me and rolls his eyes. I can tell what he’s thinking. You weren’t kidding about the fan club!
As the rest of the kids line up, Principal Gilamon comes out! I didn’t know he would be at the fund-raiser. My last school assembly went so terribly . . . what if this fund-raiser heads in the same direction? His presence just adds to the pressure.
Principal Gilamon addresses the people in the cafeteria.
“Students, we have a very special treat for you this evening,” he begins. “The dinner at this fund-raiser has been prepared by seventh grader Billy Sure’s father, who is a WORLD-CLASS COOK!”
World-class cook? It takes every ounce of restraint on my part not to shoot Emily a glance or simply crack up.
“Mr. Sure, what have you prepared for us today?” asks Principal Gilamon.
“Thank you, Principal Gilamon, for this great honor and opportunity,” says Dad. “On the menu today are: tuna and kale casserole, liverwurst stuffed with sausage, lima bean deluxe, a fish and pickle salad, and burgers using artichokes as buns instead of bread. And for dessert . . . chocolate-covered spinach!”
Cries of “Yuck!” “Gross!” and “I want a hot dog!” fill the cafeteria.
“Now, please,” Principal Gilamon say, raising his hands to quiet the room. “Let’s give Mr. Sure’s cooking a chance, shall we?”
One by one, the kids reluctantly fill their plates. From the expressions on their faces, you’d think they were condemned prisoners on their way to eating their last meals.
But then, as kids sample the various concoctions, their complaints start to change to cries of amazement.
“Wow! This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted!”
“I thought I hated lima beans, but these are as sweet as candy!”
“My mom is a terrible cook. Can you come to my house tonight, Mr. Sure?”
I smile and breathe a huge sigh of relief. Emily’s powder really does work on everything! I glance over at Dad standing in the kitchen with his arms folded across his chest and a huge smile on his face.
This has got to make him feel great. And that’s the best part of all.
• • •
Later that night, Emily, Manny, and I meet up at the office. “I don’t know, Billy, we may have to make room at Sure Things, Inc. for another partner,” Manny says.
I think the time has come for me to tell Manny about my concerns for the Best Test. Everyone is in a good mood and we obviously have a great new product to market.
“So, Manny, I’ve been thinking,” I begin.
“Uh-oh . . . that could mean trouble,” Manny says.
“The fact that I can be good at inventing and growing spinach makes me think that the Best Test might actually limit people,” I explain. “And Emily is good at pointing out people’s flaws and also at being an inventor. I’d hate to have our invention narrow or limit people’s focus, especially kids, who have the whole world open to them. Now, I know after what happened with the Cat-Dog Translator, the idea of scrapping another invention is not—”
“Scrap it,” says Manny. “Emily’s powder is without a doubt our Next Big Thing. It’s the product that will get us out of our financial hole. Let’s get movin
g on it ASAP.”
Emily screams and jumps up and down with joy.
“EMILY’S FOOD POWDER is going to be the biggest Next Big Thing!” she cries.
“Uh . . . no. Not really,” says Manny.
“What do you mean?” asks Emily. She looks like she might shoot lasers out of her eyes at Manny. Leave it to Emily to switch moods so quickly.
Manny backs away from Emily. He knows that look. “I just mean that the name could use a little work. Let’s keep it simple and direct. Sure Things, Inc.’s Next Big Thing is the GROSS-TO-GOOD POWDER. What do you think?”
“I like it,” I say, feeling relieved that Manny was able to let go of the Best Test so easily. “Emily?”
She shrugs. “Whatever. If you’re not calling it Emily’s Food Powder, then I don’t care what you call it. I’m outta here. See ya later.”
Manny turns to his desk. “I’m jumping on the rollout strategy for the Gross-to-Good Powder.”
“Great,” I say. “I’m exhausted. I’m heading home. See ya tomorrow. And Manny . . . thanks.”
“Uh-huh,” he says. He’s already so lost in product design ideas and marketing schedules, I don’t even see him online auctioning.
• • •
Right before bed, Mom e-mails me. She got the Best Test prototype in the mail and wants me to video chat with her as she tries it out. I grab Emily so we can video chat with Mom together.
Ping bong bing! Mom’s call blares through my speakers. I hit accept, and she appears on-screen.
“It’s so great to see you both!” Mom says.
“Miss you, Mom,” says Emily.
“Me too,” I add. “Are you ready for the test?’
Mom nods. I give her the lock code I programmed on the suitcase just in case it fell into the wrong hands, and out the Best Test comes! She places it on her head. Immediately, the Best Test flashes and rings, then prints out the result.
“Well, this is weird,” says Mom, holding the piece of paper to her webcam so Emily and I can read.
I look at the paper.
Carol Sure is best at keeping secrets.
“Keeping secrets?” Mom says. “Now that’s a laugh! In my book club, everyone knows me as the person who spoils the ending! I’m sorry, honey, but maybe you should work on another invention.”
“As a matter of fact,” I say. “We have already scrapped the Best Test. After all, it said that Dad was best at cooking.”
Mom laughs.
“And Emily is responsible for our Next Big Thing—the Gross-to-Good Powder. Whatever you sprinkle it on tastes great—even Dad’s concoctions.”
“I slipped some into the saltshaker,” Emily admits, “so now Dad’s meals tastes great, and we don’t ever have to hurt his feelings.”
“You should see us ask for seconds, Mom!” I say. “Even Philo! Although he’s never been the world’s pickiest eater.”
“Time to sign off, guys,” Mom says. “It’s so good to see your faces. I love you both and miss you.”
“Love you, Mom,” says Emily.
“Good night, Mom,” I say. “I love you too.”
The screen goes blank and I remember just how much I miss her. And as much as I try to ignore the Best Test’s result . . . I can’t help but wonder about what it said Mom was best at.
If she’s best at keeping secrets, what secret is she keeping from me?
“What’s the latest on the GROSS-TO-GOOD POWDER?” Emily asks Manny.
Manny continues to tap away on the keyboard.
“Uh, Manny,” Emily continues, “when someone asks you a question, the polite thing to do is to answer it. At least that’s how it works with NORMAL humans.”
Okay, so maybe Emily doesn’t want to ship me off to Saturn anymore, but I can’t say the same for my best friend. . . .
Manny whirls around in his chair to face us.
“Numbers are great. The Midwest is leading the way with a forty-seven percent rise in sales over the last three weeks,” he reports.
“See?” I say to Emily.
“I would have thought that our house was leading the way, since we put the powder on every single thing Dad cooks!” Emily jokes.
I love my dad. He’s a great artist and gardener, but he is, hands down, the world’s worst cook. Dad wasn’t always the family chef. My mom travels a lot as a scientist doing research for the government, and about nine months ago she left for her longest trip yet. She wasn’t much better at cooking either, but Mom loved to order in pizza. Dad? Well, Dad likes pizza, but with his own additions. Asparagus, kale, codfish, chia seeds, stinky cheese (instead of good cheese) . . . Dad’s cooking is really gross.
Only he doesn’t think so. Fortunately, Emily filled our saltshaker at home with the Gross-to-Good Powder, so now Dad can keep thinking he’s a great cook, we don’t have to hurt his feelings by telling him otherwise, and we can stand to eat his cooking every night.
As for my mom, I miss her a lot, although we e-mail all the time and video chat when possible.
And so, at least for the time being, Emily and I have one of Dad’s bizarre concoctions to look forward to each night at dinnertime. In fact, Dad is so proud of his cooking that his latest painting project is a series of still lifes based on the strange dishes he’s come up with. It’s a little strange. I mean, who would want to buy a painting of jellied tuna?
“That’s fantastic, Manny,” I say after hearing the rundown of our sales figures.
“Absolutely,” replies Manny. Then, without missing a beat, “So, what’s next?”
That’s my partner. No sooner is one invention on the shelves selling like crazy than Manny is ready to jump onto what we’re going to do next.
“I have a file of ideas we’ve rejected,” I say. “Maybe we could rethink one of those.” I grab a cardboard file box out from under my desk and pull off the lid. Okay—maybe I’m not the most organized. The file has rejected inventions in it, but it’s also got doodles of my favorite baseball team, the Hyenas, and the math homework I forgot to hand in last week.
“Let’s see . . . there’s the pen that turns into a jet pack . . .” I begin reading off the correct paper. “Nah, getting the engine that small could take years.”
“What about another product like the SIBLING SILENCER?” Emily asks. She smiles smugly. Emily loves using Sure Things, Inc.’s second product on me. Last week she silenced me when I was talking about superheroes. Just as I was about to tell her about how I’d love to be invisible, ZING! I couldn’t talk any more. Note to self: Install a “Billy Immunity” option on future models.
“Actually, I didn’t invent that,” I say. “That came out of a contest we held where other young inventors submitted their ideas. We picked the one we liked the best and helped the inventor make it a reality.”
“So, why not do that again?” asks Emily.
I turn to Manny, who seems to be half-listening and half answering his e-mails, even though he’s the one who started this conversation.
“What do you think, Manny?” I ask.
Manny doesn’t react. Make that one-quarter listening, and three-quarters answering e-mails.
“I don’t think he heard you, Billy,” says Emily. “Working with someone like this every day would drive me—”
“What if we took the contest ONE STEP FURTHER?” Manny says suddenly, turning to look right at us. “What if we made it a TV show?”
Emily shoots me a look that I can only interpret as: Okay, maybe working with this guy is not so bad after all.
“A TV show?” I ask.
“Yeah, where young inventors present everything from rough ideas to preliminary sketches to first-pass prototypes. Then the judges—I’m thinking the three of us—vote. It won’t be about who has already made the best invention, but who has the best idea. Just like with the Sibling Silencer, the winning inventor would share in the profits, and the TV show would be marketing in itself!”
“That would be way cooler than just sending your idea to a web
site,” says Emily.
“But how do we even do that?” I ask. “I mean, a TV show? Where do we start?”
“I’ll get in touch with Chris Fernell,” Manny says. “He should be able to point us in the right direction.”
Chris Fernell is the host of Better Than Sleeping!, the TV show where I was interviewed just after the All Ball hit big. He’s somewhat of a friend, or as much of a friend as a TV host can be with a kid, and that’s pretty cool.
“This is fantastic,” I say. “Doing a TV show again, and helping a young inventor, and coming up with SURE THINGS’ NEXT BIG THING! Wow!”
LUKE SHARPE is not a millionaire, but he has been trying to invent a machine that can teleport people anywhere in the world since he was eight years old. He has so far been unsuccessful but he has vowed never to give up. When he isn’t working, Luke enjoys Hawaiian pizza and skateboarding. He lives near Chicago with his wife and son (named Billy, of course), their gecko, Eddie, and their aquarium full of exotic fish.
GRAHAM ROSS has grand plans for world domination through his illustrated inventions. Right now he’s having a “ball” hanging out with Billy Sure, the next sure thing! Graham lives in a little log home in the woods with his inventive family, just outside of Merrickville, Canada.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
