Addison Addley and the Things That Aren't There

by Melody DeFields McMillan

  Sam was smack in the middle of a good thought when we rounded the corner of Pine Street and ran right into the Lamp. I don’t mean the streetlight. I mean Tiffany Wilson, the Lamp for short. That’s what my great-aunt’s old kitchen lamp is called. A Tiffany lamp. It’s got a huge, colorful glass shade on it that looks too big for the bulb. Mom says it’s really old and valuable. It just plain looks too big to me. Tiffany is the meanest girl in grade five. Heck, I take that back. Tiffany is the meanest girl in the school. Whoever said that girls can’t be as mean as guys sure didn’t know Tiffany.

  “Well, if it isn’t Sam the geek and his stupid friend Add, or is it Odd?” the Lamp sneered as she and her friends strutted toward us.

  Now I don’t mind being called stupid, but I hate being called Add by people like her. It’s okay for Sam to call me that. That’s best friend sort of stuff.

  She stepped closer. Tiffany wasn’t really fat. She just had this dumb way of puffing her shoulders out and prancing like a peacock to make herself look important. The only thing she looked was weird. Her hair was frizzy and so big that it looked like she was wearing a lampshade. A Tiffany lampshade.

  “Shut up, Tiffany,” I said. “Go back where you came from.”

  “Hi, Tiffany,” Sam said, pushing his glasses up his sweaty nose. “Add and I were just discussing our speech topics, our topics, our speeches.”

  NO!! I screamed silently to Sam. Don’t tell her! I don’t know why Sam always tries to be nice to mean people like the Lamp. The nicer he is to her, the meaner she’ll be to him because she knows she can get away with it. He just doesn’t get it.

  “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this one,” Tiffany purred. “Let me guess—’The Stupider Side of Stupid.’ Am I close? Or is it ‘The Dumber Side of Dumb’?”

  Close enough for me to shove you into that puddle, I thought. Sam could read my mind. “Be careful,” he whispered. “Her mother is the president of the astronomy club. You want your mom to get on the board, right?”

  I groaned. Not only was the astronomy club weird, but it had annoying people running it. I knew Tiffany’s mother, and she was just as annoying as Tiffany. That would definitely make my job a lot harder. I’d have to have a word with Mom so she could straighten out her priorities. You’ve gotta look at the big picture. Why would you want to join a club where you’d be around such annoying people? A nice harmless club would be better. Take the knitting club, for example. Sam’s grandmother ran that one. You couldn’t get any more harmless than her.

  Sam stepped toward Tiffany. “Things that aren’t there,” he said happily. “You get it? Things that aren’t there, but they might be.”

  Tiffany stared at us with her eyes bulging out of her big head.

  “Things that aren’t there!” she snorted. Then she choked. Her shiny red face screwed up into a big question mark.

  Her friends giggled. “Look, Add,” she said. “We know you’re stupid, but this is stupid even for you. What do you mean, things that aren’t there?”

  I’d had enough. “Well, here’s a starter,” I said. “Things that aren’t there. Number one...your brain!”

  Tiffany’s face turned even redder. “Things that aren’t there,” she sputtered. “Number two...the favorite speech trophy. It’s sure not going to be there in your hands with such a stupid topic!” She stormed away.

  I’d forgotten about that trophy. If I had doubts about being able to come up with enough ideas for my speech topic, they were gone now. I decided that if Tiffany thought my topic was a bad idea, then it probably was a good one. I was going to win that trophy. I may not know a lot of things, but I sure know how to be stubborn.

  Chapter Four

  On Monday at school, Miss Steane told us more about the speech trophy. It was donated by good old Mrs. Wilson, the Lamp’s mother. She was always getting her nose into school stuff. It wouldn’t be hard to do, because her nose was so big. No wonder Tiffany wanted to win that trophy so badly. She probably picked it out herself.

  “Now, this isn’t going to be a popularity contest,” Miss Steane explained firmly in her teacher voice. Miss Steane was great. Sometimes she used a normal human voice and sometimes a teacher voice. She was really talented. She always seemed to know what we were going to say even before we said it. I guess I’ve told her too many times that the dog ate my homework because by now she knows I don’t even have a dog, and she won’t let me finish my excuse. I’ll have to come up with a different one, like the squirrels used my homework pages to build their nest. The best thing about Miss Steane was that she was fair. She didn’t treat the smart kids better than the rest of us. She’d only been teaching for a couple of years, but she was the best teacher we’d ever had.

  “Public speaking is an art,” she explained. “Not only do we gain knowledge from the speaker, but, ideally, we’ll be entertained. After all, in the real world, if a speech or presentation to a company is boring, it’s not going to make an impact. We’re not going to make a sale or convince a board to vote for us.”

  I caught the last few words as I studied the eraser on my pencil. I wondered how many pieces I could chew off before it was even with the metal top. I like doing things like that. Experimenting with science and all. The world always needs new ideas. I like to help out. Once I even tried to invent my own paper shredder. I figured we had too many old bills lying around the house. Mom always cried when she looked at them. I taped a cheese grater onto the wheel of Mom’s exercise bike; then I made paper airplanes out of the bills and threw them at the spokes while Sam pedalled. It sure clogged up the spokes of that old bike, but it didn’t work very well as a shredder. I’ll have to try that one again and have Sam pedal faster.

  “Did you hear what I said, Addison?” Miss Steane asked.

  “Ah, sure, we have to convince the board to vote for us,” I said. Just like I’d have to somehow convince the astronomy club board to vote for Mom. She’d never be able to do it on her own. Maybe I could trick Mrs. Wilson into believing that Mom had been abducted by aliens once and that now she knew everything about life on other planets. I’d tell her that Mom could list all the space movies ever made. Heck, she could probably even list all the characters in all the space movies ever made.

  “Right, something like that,” Miss Steane said. She switched to her normal voice.

  “In other words,” she continued, “let’s liven things up. We don’t want this to be a boring assignment. Have a bit of fun with it. That way, hopefully, no one has to be nervous.”

  That was a lot easier said than done. We only had one week until we started giving our speeches. Sam had told me that almost everyone already had theirs memorized. I hadn’t even written mine yet. I kind of have this habit of putting things off until the last minute. Things turn out better that way. I think. Like the time I returned a new video game to the corner store just at the last minute. It was due at noon. I got to the door at 11:59. Good thing I did. If I had been there any earlier, I might have ended up in jail. It turns out that Sam’s grandma had accidentally let her dog loose in the store. He’d knocked over two racks of potato chips and three jars of jelly beans. I don’t think I would have been able to resist taking some free samples off the floor if I’d been there. Then I might have gotten arrested. Yep, being there just at the last minute worked for me that day.

  Miss Steane smiled. “After the speeches are over on Wednesday, we’re going to have a ‘speeches are over, middle of the week’ party. We’ll present the favorite speech trophy and have some food and games. Don’t forget; try to make your speech entertaining. We’ll all vote for our favorite speech right before the party.”

  Everyone volunteered to bring stuff. I was going to bring the almonds from the stash I had stored for the squirrels, but I decided not to. The squirrels deserved them. When I found out Mrs. Wilson was organizing the party, I knew what I had to do. Mrs. Wilson was on the astronomy board. Mrs. Wilson loved to cook and eat. She also loved to try new recipes. Mrs. Wilson needed to find out a
bout Mom’s prize-winning healthy cooking. Well, maybe not prize-winning, but incredibly healthy.

  That was my plan. I’d impress her with Mom’s famous organic fruit punch. Technically it was called a fruit smoothie, but I preferred to call it punch. Smoothie sounds too much like baby food. Mrs. Wilson would be begging for the recipe and then begging my mom for more ideas. She’d vote for Mom for sure. I just love the way things fall into place sometimes. But I couldn’t put my plan into action right away. I had more important things to do. It was Monday afternoon and that meant fishing. The creek is deserted on Monday afternoons. The fish like it that way. They like us too; we hadn’t caught anything in two years. They were safe with us.

  Sam was hopping up and down when I met him after school. He held open a battered old book from the library.

  “Atoms,” he said.

  “Adam’s what?” I asked. I didn’t even know an Adam, except for the short guy on the baseball team last year.

  “Atoms—like in science. They’re the smallest thing you can imagine. Scientists base a lot of physics theories on them, but you can’t see them, not even with a microscope. They think they’re there because of the reactions of the stuff around them. An atom is a thing that isn’t there, but it really is.”

  Sam looked proud of himself. “Wormholes,” he said triumphantly.

  Sam was thinking too much. We didn’t have to dig wormholes; we were buying bait at the store. I tapped him on the shoulder. “Look,” I pointed out. “We don’t have shovels. We’re buying our worms today, remember?”

  “Wormholes, like in astronomy. Your mom would like this one. Some people believe that there are these things called wormholes. They’re like invisible passageways to different parts of the universe and different times, sort of like time traveling. You can’t see them, but you can’t really prove they don’t exist. They’re things that aren’t there.”

  “Whatever,” I said, pretending to understand. Sam had worms on the brain, but I decided to write down those two ideas anyway. Even stupid ideas were better than none at this point.

  As we walked into the gas station to get the worms, I saw Tiffany’s older sister, Jennifer, behind the counter. I’d had enough of the Wilsons today, so I tried to get out of there quickly. Sam paid for the worms and I paid for the Popsicles we needed to keep up our energy. I handed Jennifer the exact change.

  Or so I thought.

  “Thanks for the tip, Addison,” Jennifer said with a sickening smile. She was pretending to be sweet, but a sour candy would be sweeter.

  I must have added wrong, as usual, because what should have been $1.38 suddenly became $1.83 in my head. I had given her too much. Like I said, I’m not too good at adding. Sometimes those dumb numbers just sneak into the wrong place.

  Sam pushed me out the door before I could grab back my money.

  “Remember the astronomy meeting and your mom,” he whispered. “Remember Mrs. Wilson is on the board. Try to be nice.”

  I would rather be nice to a tarantula, but I thought I’d better take Sam’s advice, for Mom’s sake.

  We reached the stream and divided the worms in half. Well, Sam did anyway. Did I already mention that I’m not too good at dividing? I plopped my half of the worms into my hat. I always let Sam keep his worms in the carton because I’m a nice guy.

  I tried to come up with ideas for my speech. I fished and I thought. I thought and I fished. Some days, the fish just aren’t biting. Some days, neither are the ideas.

  Chapter Five

  That night I had nightmares. I mean, really gross nightmares. I was being chased by Tiffany, who didn’t have a head anymore. That was good in a way because I didn’t have to look at her face, but it was also bad because where her face should have been was a rotten fish head. She had a backup army of ufos behind her, and the aliens, who all had fish heads, were shooting calculators at me. Some things are better left undreamt.

  I woke up in a sweat when the phone rang beside my head. I looked at the clock. It was three o’clock in the morning.

  I grabbed the phone, my heart still pounding from that dumb dream. “Hello?” I said, wishing the shadows by the closet didn’t look quite so creepy.

  “Ghosts,” I heard someone breathe into the receiver.

  I almost dropped the phone, but then I heard the word “ghosts” two more times. Two plus one equals three. That much I know. It had to be three-peater Sam.

  “What the heck are you trying to do—give me a heart attack?” I half yelled. I didn’t want to wake up Mom in the downstairs bedroom.

  “Ghosts. They might be there with you right now,” Sam said.

  Great. I really needed to hear that. Suddenly that downstairs room looked good.

  “Knock it off!” I said. “I’m trying to sleep.”

  “So many people believe in ghosts,” Sam explained in a whisper. “Some people claim they’ve actually seen them, but there is no way of proving it. Some people hear them or just feel them. They are things that aren’t there. Or are they?”

  I’d rather not think about that right now, thank you very much, I thought. My teeth started chattering. I was sure it was from the cold.

  “Yeah, thanks for your great idea, Sam. Let me sleep on it,” I lied. There was no way in the world I was going to be able to go back to sleep now.

  I turned on all the lights in my room and flipped the TV on low. I might as well put the time to good use, I reasoned. I took out my pad of paper and added “Ghosts” to my list.

  Things That Aren’t There

  1. Tiffany’s brain

  2. Science stuff—microwaves, atoms

  3. Dog whistles

  4. ufos

  5. Astronomy stuff—black holes and wormholes

  6. Ghosts

  I stretched my brain as far as it could go and all~ I could come up with was one more thing.

  7. An A on my speech

  Chapter Six

  It was a few days before I had to talk to Tiffany again. Miss Steane had told us the order of our speeches. I was scheduled to go last on Wednesday, the last day. I told you Miss Steane was the best. She probably knew I still hadn’t written a word. I was starting to get a bit panicky about it, but I was sure I could pull it off. I still had a week. Good things come to those who wait, someone smart—maybe my dad—once said. I was really good at waiting. As long as it meant putting off work.

  The Lamp cornered me at recess. I tried to hide behind Sam but she caught me anyway.

  “Well, Oddison,” she purred. She must spend her time making up stupid nicknames for me. I guess she’s got nothing better to do.

  “How’s your speech going? What was it again? Let me see...things that aren’t there. What a stupid, stupid topic.”

  “Yeah, well you’re going to wish you weren’t there when everyone laughs at your speech,” I answered back. “What is it again—the history of lampshades?”

  “You make me sick. I’m doing a speech on politeness—something you know nothing about,” she sneered. “You present on Wednesday—that’s only one week away. One week—that’s seven days, in case you don’t know how to count.” Her little group of followers laughed.

  I knew how to count all right. I’d count to ten. That would give me enough time to cool off. I thought of Tiffany’s mother and the astronomy election. It only took me to seven to get back in control. “Things that aren’t there,” I said nice and calmly. “The fight that you’re trying to pick with me. It’s not going to work. It’s just not there.”

  I was proud of myself. Tiffany has a way of getting under my skin, just like worm dirt gets under my fingernails. I’m lucky with the dirt because it washes right out. I wish I could say the same for Tiffany.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning we had a chapter review on fractions. I don’t know why they call it a review. Review means to go over something you already know, like reviewing the seven steps you need to take to get to the dragon in my favorite video game, or going over every flavor o
f ice cream three times before deciding on which one to get. I don’t mind reviewing my game plan to become a famous inventor some day. But I definitely couldn’t review fractions because I didn’t understand them in the first place.

  Besides, everybody knew that “review” was just a fancy word for “test.” Teachers thought they could get away with sneaking one in if they called it something different.

  I stared at the numbers on the page.

  1/3 + 1/3 =

  Did that equal 1/6? Or 2/3? Or 2 1/3? The only number that I was sure about was the zero I was going to get on that review.

  That night I started writing my speech. I quit after ten minutes. I’d done quite a bit for one night. I had written two lines and I didn’t want to burn out. I needed to pace myself.

  Miss Steane, honorable judges, and fellow classmates, Do you ever wonder if something is really there?

  I put away my speech and headed downstairs to get something to eat. Writing works up an appetite. I grabbed some pita bread stuffed with meatless meat left over from supper. I threw out the meatless meat and stuffed the pita with peanut butter. No use wasting the good stuff on me.

  Mom was out on the deck looking at the stars. She was holding up one hand with her fingers spread out. It looked like she was trying to put a spell on the sky.

  “What are you doing?” I asked her as I jumped into my old hammock under the pine tree that overhung the deck.

  “I’m trying to measure the distance between the stars,” she said, passing me a plate of flaxseed and honey cookies. “Did you know that if you hold your hand outstretched like this, the span from your thumb to your little finger is about twenty-five degrees, which is the length of the Big Dipper?” she asked.

  I nodded, pretending to be interested. I picked the flaxseeds out of the cookies and dropped them through the holes in the deck for the birds. “Don’t you think you should be using something better to look at the stars with than your fingers?” I asked. It looked pretty weird to me, like some voodoo thing that I’d seen on tv.