Addison Addley and the Things That Aren't There
Page 5
Did I mention that I can’t multiply very well? Especially fractions? Sometimes those pesky numbers just get mixed up. Like I said before, fractions sometimes have a disgusting way of catching up to you. I couldn’t think of anything more disgusting than what had come out of Tiffany’s mouth.
Miss Steane was frowning. “That doesn’t explain why the punch was so dark or why it would make Tiffany sick,” she said. “You had way too much soy milk but Tiffany’s not allergic to soy products—no one in the class is.”
“But I didn’t have too much soy milk,” I said with a smile.
If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s switching things around. I hadn’t been able to find any soy milk at the corner grocery store, so I had found something just like it instead. Well, maybe not just like it, but close.
“Don’t worry about the soy milk,” I explained. “I didn’t put any in. I substituted that other soy stuff instead.” I was proud of myself.
“What other stuff?” Miss Steane asked slowly.
“You know—the stuff we put on Chinese food. Soy sauce.” Milk, sauce, what’s the difference? They were both made of soy.
Mrs. Wilson looked like she was going to strangle me. Her eyes bulged out of her head even more than Tiffany’s. “You mean to say that you put three-and-a-half cups of soy sauce in that punch? No wonder my baby got sick!”
I didn’t see what the big deal was.
Tiffany came back into the classroom. She didn’t look sick anymore, except for the brown stuff on her shirt. Her face was shiny and red, just the way it always was. She looked like she was going to kill me.
I coughed politely, the way Tiffany had taught us.
“Um, aren’t you forgetting something?” I pointed out. “When did Tiffany get a chance to drink my punch? She must have been the one who broke into the party room at recess. The proof is on her shirt.” And in her stomach, I added to myself. Or at least it had been.
I grinned. Success was sweet. Mrs. Wilson had been right about one thing: Look for the evidence. It will show up. It always does.
Chapter Fifteen
Sam and I had a celebratory fishing trip at the creek that night. I took the trophy with me. After all, it wasn’t every day that I actually won something.
Sam slapped me on the back. “You did really well today, really good, really well!” he said. He was practically bubbling over with excitement. “Thanks to you, we still got to have our party.”
It really had been a good party. It seems that innocent little Tiffany hadn’t been so innocent after all. She had snuck into the party room and helped herself to some punch and cookies. Then she had helped herself to some money too. She was going to use it to bribe her friends to vote for her speech. Instead she had to put the money back and promise to pay for cleaning Becky’s dummy. She also had to apologize to the class.
We got to have our pizza and a dance too. The only person I would have danced with was Becky’s dummy, but it smelled too much like my punch. Tiffany just sat in the corner and glared at everyone. I guess she felt stupid because she’d been caught in the act. She knew she’d screwed up, but she’d hated apologizing.
I slept really well that night. There was something about watching Tiffany get what she deserved that made me feel kind of nice and sleepy, like the way I felt after I drank chamomile tea once when I was sick.
I was surprised to see Mrs. Wilson waiting outside the classroom the next day after school. It wasn’t a great way to end my day.
She demanded an apology from me. From me? What had I done wrong? All I’d done was make a little mistake with my fractions. And one of the ingredients. They were honest mistakes. I mean, who really cares if ½ times 3 is 1 ½ instead of 3 ½ ? Well, except for Tiffany. Her stomach cared. She shouldn’t have been so greedy in the first place. She was the one who’d gulped down the punch when she wasn’t even supposed to have been in that room. It wasn’t fair that I had to apologize.
“Well, we’re waiting,” Mrs. Wilson said, tapping her big foot in its pointed brown shoe. Tiffany had popped up beside her.
I swallowed hard and stared at Mrs. Wilson’s big foot. I thought about her sitting at the table in the astronomy club room, tapping her big hand before she voted for the new positions on the board. I thought about black holes and wormholes and things that weren’t there, like how I wished I weren’t there right then. I decided to take one for the team.
“Sorry, Tiffany,” I mumbled to the floor.
Tiffany smiled a slow, sweet smile. “What was that?” she asked.
I cleared my throat and said it again. “Sorry.”
“And here,” I said quickly, before I changed my mind. I pulled the favorite speech trophy out of my backpack and shoved it at her. “You take this. You deserve it.”
It was just a dumb cup. I didn’t need it. I knew I had really won the competition. Sometimes you’ve just gotta do what you’ve gotta do.
“Well then,” Mrs. Wilson muttered, not knowing what to say. She smiled at me, a real smile, not even a fake one.
Tiffany’s face lit up like a lamp. For a second, just one tiny second, I kind of felt sorry for her. She really wanted that trophy. It must have meant a lot to her. Sort of like what winning the baseball tournament last year had meant to me.
That feeling only lasted for a second because then she scrunched up her face into a twisted sneer again. “Thanks, Oddison,” the Lamp purred. “I’m going to go home and have a victory drink in this with some real punch. Victory. You don’t know what that word means, do you?” she whispered to me as she strode away.
Victory. Oh yeah, I knew what that word meant. It was sweet. I thought of Tiffany heading home with her trophy. I thought about her pouring some of her own precious punch into it. I thought about her gulping it down. I thought about how my half of the worms had been sitting in that trophy last night at the creek. Oh yeah, victory was sweet.
Chapter Sixteen
I studied the pages in front of me. Ever since Mom had found out that I’d failed my last chapter review in math, she’d found even more ways for me to look at numbers. She said she thought I could use a little practice. More than a little practice, if you ask me.
I was now in charge of the household budget. Mom just didn’t get it. With me in charge, we’d be broke in a week. Luckily I was only going to be in charge for a month.
“You know, Mom, if you’d cut back on all of that organic stuff from the health food store, we’d have more money for other food,” I suggested. More real food, like ice cream with chocolate syrup and green sprinkles. You could never have too much of that stuff lying around the house.
Mom grinned at me. “Nice try, Einstein.” She put down her cup of green tea. “You know, speaking of organic food, I saw Mrs. Wilson coming out of the health food store yesterday. Maybe she’s turning into a health nut like me. I think I’ll give her the recipe for my organic fruit punch at the next meeting. I bet she’d really enjoy that.”
I coughed up my peppermint tea.
“Yeah, well, you might want to hold off on that,” I said. Mom still didn’t know about the punch disaster. No use getting her upset or anything. She’d just been elected to the treasurer position. It had been a close call, five votes to four. I wondered which way good old Mrs. Wilson had voted. I’d made her daughter sick, but then again I’d made her daughter happy by giving her that trophy. Maybe one deed cancelled out the other—like multiplying fractions.
I had to think fast. “She was probably just there to put up flyers for the school fundraiser,” I said. It could have been true. There really was going to be a fundraiser, and Mrs. Wilson was sure to be in charge of it.
“I bet she’s not interested in that organic stuff at all,” I continued. “Actually, I’m pretty sure of it. I heard her say she wouldn’t touch that organic stuff if you paid her to. She says it’s a total waste of money.” I didn’t mention the fact that Mrs. Wilson had only been talking about the punch. Some things are better left unsaid.
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“Well, keep working on those numbers and see if we can cut some corners,” Mom said as she headed out the back door. “I’m going to go take a peek at the stars. I can’t wait to borrow the telescope at the next meeting!” She practically floated outside.
Great. A telescope. Old starlight. Black holes. Wormholes.
Just what I needed. That’s how this whole mess started in the first place, looking for things that weren’t there. Maybe I could talk Mom into buying a new video game with spaceships and aliens instead. She’d have lots of stars to look at then.
I finished up the page I was working on and went upstairs to bed. Boy, was I tired. My brain wasn’t used to working that hard. I was sure I’d be seeing numbers all night in my sleep.
Maybe I could get Sam to help me out the next day. I’d come up with a really incredible plan to make this number stuff easier. Heck, that budget would practically write itself. After all, I’d already proven that two heads are better than one.
I turned on the tap to brush my teeth. I gave them a quick scrub. I did my usual thing. I was just going to shut off the water when I decided to brush them a little longer, just this once. Who knows, just because I couldn’t see those disgusting little germs, it didn’t mean that they weren’t really there. They might be just like dog whistles and wormholes. Like I said before, you’ve got to have an open mind about these things. Or at least half of one.
Melody DeFields McMillan grew up in the countryside in southwestern Ontario and now lives in Simcoe, not far from where she grew up. As well as being a writer, she is a teacher and the mother of a daughter and a son. When she isn’t writing, she is enjoying nature.
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