The Mystery of the Mad Science Teacher

by Marty Chan

  “She said the same thing the other day, too,” I said.

  “Hold on,” Remi said. “What if Ida is also a robot?”

  She looked at him like he had grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead. I shook my head at her. She said nothing.

  “I know it sounds weird,” he continued, “but we saw the robot in Mr. E’s yard. It looked just like the girl in your class.”

  Why couldn’t Mr. E have built a robot Ida already? Maybe there never was a human Ida, and this robot was some twisted science experiment. After all, the robot in the yard looked so life-like, except for the weird buzz saw hand and all the wiring and green circuit boards where her heart should have been.

  “You know when Ida talked about it being time, it was like she needed something from Mr. E. What does a robot need?” I asked.

  “Electricity,” Remi blurted out. “Her batteries needed a recharge.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Trina said.

  “Maybe she’s right,” my friend said, backing off his original theory.

  Her face half-sneered and half-grimaced. “You don’t have to agree with everything I say! What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think?” He looked at her with wide puppy eyes.

  “Never mind.”

  I jumped in. “Let’s find out for sure.”

  “Maybe we can knock on her head and see if it’s made of metal,” she said, sneering.

  Ida was still playing tag. If she kept running like that she’d probably burn out her batteries and need a recharge soon.

  Trina noted, “The weird thing was Mr. E took out this black case from his desk after Ida said it was time.”

  That had to be the thin pencil case I had seen earlier.

  “He told the rest of us to behave and then he took Ida out of the room. A few minutes later, Mr. E came back to the classroom with the case.”

  “But not Ida?” I asked.

  “Nope. I don’t know where she went.”

  “I bet he plugged her into a wall socket to recharge,” Remi said.

  “Hel-lo . . . ”

  I nudged Trina in the side before she could finish her thought. Part of me believed his story, but another part wanted to agree with Trina. I felt like I didn’t know where to put my feet. It was like the time my dad said there wasn’t a Santa Claus. Dad said that he was the one who bought all the presents and I should be thanking him and not Santa. I wanted to tell Dad he was wrong, but I couldn’t help but think that if Dad was Santa, it would explain why I never got the toys I wanted for Christmas. But right now, I didn’t have time to figure out who was right and who was wrong. I had to make sure that Trina and Remi stayed friends.

  “You might be right, Remi,” I said. “What do you think, Trina?”

  “Maybe.”

  He jumped up and down. “Hold on! Maybe Ida’s the one who stole your bike.”

  She didn’t answer. Her eyes darted back and forth and all around. This was her thinking look. It was like her eyes were echoing what was going on in her head as she was playing mental whack-a-mole with all the bad ideas until only one good idea popped up. Trina might not have believed that Ida was a robot, but the idea that Ida stole her bike was something she could believe.

  “Do you remember how the magnet screwed up Samantha’s watch?” I asked. “Do you think it could do the same thing to a robot?”

  “I don’t know,” Trina answered. “Too bad we don’t have a magnet.”

  Remi pulled a magnet out of his pocket. “You mean this?”

  THIRTEEN

  At recess, Trina and I waited in the hallway until everyone cleared out of the classroom. Mr. E took forever to put on his orange safety vest, but he finally got dressed and left the room.

  I pretended to tie my shoes and Trina took her time putting on her jacket, while our teacher walked past us. As he headed down the hallway, Trina’s arm brushed against mine. Goose pimples sprang up all along my arm.

  Remi ran around the corner.

  “No running, young man,” Mr. E ordered.

  Remi mumbled an apology and walked slowly toward us. I tried to flatten out the goose pimples on my arm as we watched our mad science teacher walk outside to supervise students in the schoolyard.

  “Remi, you watch the main door. Signal Trina if anyone’s coming back in. Trina, you signal me if you see his signal.”

  “Okay,” he said. “The signal is this.” He made an air heart with his two fingers.

  She bit her lip and nodded. “I’ll whistle when I see the apple shape.”

  “It’s not an apple, it’s a — ”

  “Maybe you should both whistle,” I said, cutting off my friend.

  He nodded and headed down the hall while I crept back into the classroom. Trina grabbed my arm and whispered, “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

  “I didn’t have the time. I’ll do it later today. Promise.” Another promise made in a rush. Next time, I should take more time to think through my promises.

  Inside the classroom, I held the magnet to the back of the metal frame of Ida’s seat. But the magnet didn’t hold; it slipped down the metal bar and landed on the floor. I picked it up and tried again. The magnet wouldn’t stick. Had it lost its attraction? Were people like magnets? Would Trina lose her attraction to me?

  She poked her head in. “Hurry up, Marty. What’s taking so long?”

  “Another minute. Does Remi see anything?”

  “No, but he keeps staring at me. It’s starting to creep me out.”

  “I’m almost done.”

  She closed the door while I looked around for another way to attach the magnet to Ida’s chair. On Mr. E’s desk sat a tape dispenser. Perfect. I ran to his desk. As I tore off a strip of tape, however, I heard a faint whistle.

  Trina called out, “Good morning, Principal Henday!”

  I froze. If Mr. Henday caught me now, our plans would be ruined. I ducked behind Mr. E’s desk and hoped my friends would distract the principal. His silhouette filled the frosted glass of the classroom door.

  “Remi and I are playing air hockey,” she said. “It’s his turn to shoot. Don’t worry, we’re using an imaginary puck.”

  Silence. I held my breath.

  Then, Mr. Henday spoke. “I’m looking for Mr.

  Eisenberg. Is he in the classroom?”

  “No,” Trina shouted. “He went outside.”

  I hid behind the desk. As I scrunched between the desk and the chair, I knocked over a can of pencils. The pencils spilled across the desk, while the can rolled off and clattered to the floor. I grabbed the can and held my breath.

  “What was that?” Mr. Henday asked.

  “It must be the hamster. She probably knocked over her food again. I’ll clean it up, sir.”

  Silence.

  “She’s sick and making quite a mess these days.”

  “Ms. Brewster. In and out. Don’t dawdle.”

  Mr. Henday’s silhouette left the door and his footsteps echoed down the hall. The coast was clear. I scooped the pencils into the can. Then I ripped off another strip of tape and ran to Ida’s desk. In no time at all, the trap was set.

  I opened the door. Trina was avoiding looking at Remi, who was making air hearts frantically. I gave him the thumbs up. He stepped away from the door, just as Eric and the Hoppers rushed into the school. The guys pushed pass Trina and me and entered the classroom.

  Remi joined us. “Did you see my signal, Trina? Pretty good, eh?”

  She mumbled, “It was okay.”

  His smiled drooped.

  “Great job, Remi,” I said. “But you better get back to class. We’ll let you know what happens.”

  He walked down the hall and made one last air heart at Trina, before he rounded the corner. She pretended to look the other way. I felt bad for my friend, knowing how he felt about her and now knowing how she felt about me. I wanted to confess what I had done.

  But before I could say anything, Ida ran past me. Her
face red from playing tag, she looked out of breath. Trina and I followed her into the class and watched her plop into her seat. I hoped the magnet would be powerful enough to mess with her circuitry. We sat down, looking for any change in Ida. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with her wristband, but otherwise she seemed normal.

  The sound of wheels across the tiled floor attracted my attention. Mr. E, wearing an ear-to-ear smile, rolled a sheet-covered cart into the classroom. He paused, while everyone stopped talking and glued their attention to the mystery cart. Once we were all watching, he yanked the sheet off to reveal a collection of batteries, magnets, pencils, light bulbs, wires and small wooden boards. This was a day of experiments; only mine wasn’t working. Ida looked perfectly normal.

  As Mr. E explained the workings of the electricity experiment, I glanced at Ida. She looked a little pale. She played with her wristband, then slowly turned and noticed me. She sneered. Our cover was blown. I stared straight ahead at the demonstration.

  The lesson seemed to go on forever. Even though I didn’t look at her, I could feel Ida glaring at me. It was like she had laser vision and she was burning me from across the class.

  “And that’s the experiment. Now let’s break into science teams,” Mr. E said.

  Not yet. The magnet needed just a few more seconds to work. I had to keep Ida to stay put for a little longer. I raised my hand.

  “I have a question.”

  “Yes, Marty.”

  “I don’t really understand this electricity thing. If lightning can start fires, how can electricity travel through wires without starting a fire? I don’t want to grab the wires and hurt myself.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. These wires are insulated and the amount of electricity that will go through them is very small. But it’s a good question. In general, don’t touch wires ever.”

  “But we’re going to touch them now,” I said, playing dumb.

  Mr. E nodded. “I meant don’t touch them unless an expert says the wires are insulated and safe.”

  “What’s insulated mean?” I asked, glancing at Ida, who looked paler.

  “What do you think it means?” Mr. E asked.

  “I think it means you made fun of someone,” I said.

  A few of the kids giggled. Eric nodded his head, agreeing with my answer.

  “That’s insulted, Marty. Insulated means it’s shielded against the electricity.”

  “Yeah, dummy,” Eric said, pretending he knew what the word meant.

  “Eric, we don’t use that word in class.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Insulated means the electricity can go through the wire without heating the wire. It’s made of a material that can take a lot of electricity,” Mr. E explained.

  “I still don’t get it,” I said, keeping an eye on Ida, who was positively white. The magnet was working. I had to give it a few more minutes.

  “Look at it this way, Marty. You pour water into a paper cone, what happens?”

  “The paper will get too wet and water will leak out.”

  “So what’s a better thing to put water in?”

  “A glass,” I said.

  Ida gripped the sides of her desk and tried to stand up.

  “Good. A glass is made of material that won’t get soaked by the water. The same with insulated wires. They can hold the electricity without getting burned.”

  “So is electricity like water then?” I asked.

  Suddenly, Ida groaned. “Help me.”

  She swayed back and forth on her feet. The magnet had short-circuited the robot. Suddenly, she collapsed.

  “Stay in your seats,” Mr. E ordered. “Don’t move.”

  He rushed to his desk and pulled the black pencil case out of his desk drawer. He ran to Ida and gently rolled her on to her side. He opened the case and pulled out a thick pen. He adjusted one end while he lifted Ida’s shirt, pinched her stomach and jabbed the pointed end of the pen into her skin.

  No one said a thing. No one even breathed. As I watched Mr. E withdraw the pointed end of the pen from Ida’s soft tummy, I realized she wasn’t made of metal. She was made of flesh. She wasn’t a robot. She was human.

  FOURTEEN

  Eventually colour returned to Ida’s face. Her eyes opened and she looked around the room. The kids started to whisper to each other.

  “It’s okay, Ida. You had a bit of a spell,” Mr. E said.

  “I’m okay,” she said, pushing him away.

  “Samantha, please tell the school nurse that I’m bringing Ida to see her.”

  She nodded and bolted out the door.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Eric asked.

  “It’s nothing. Read chapter five in your textbooks.”

  “I’m fine,” Ida said, still struggling to get free of our teacher’s hold, but she didn’t have much strength. She gave up after a couple of tries.

  “We’re going to make sure.” He lifted Ida to her feet and escorted her out of the classroom, one arm wrapped around her shoulders, holding her up.

  As soon as he left, the entire class erupted into chatter. Ten minutes later, Principal Henday arrived and quieted the room. He explained that Ida wasn’t feeling well and Mr. E would not return that day.

  By lunchtime, everyone in the schoolyard was buzzing about Ida. Even though only the people in the classroom saw her faint, everyone else claimed to know exactly what happened. Some of the girls blamed themselves because they were playing tag with Ida in the morning, while some of the French boys thought Ida was faking it so she could get out of class.

  Hannah said, “It was my fault. I tagged her too hard. Daddy says you can get concussions if you’re hit too hard.”

  Samantha sneered. “Hannah, you tagged her on the arm. You have to get hit in the head to get concussions.”

  The French girls had their own theories. Marie argued, “I’ll bet it was the flu shots they gave us last week. I bet the nurse had the wrong batch and she gave us something like mad cow disease. So pretty soon we’re all going to start passing out.”

  “Or start mooing,” Eric joked.

  “I feel kind of faint,” Hannah said. “Someone feel my forehead.”

  The girls stepped back from Hannah and covered their mouths. Marie’s flu shot theory sounded like a lot of bull, but I wasn’t going to say anything. The best theory came from the most unlikely source. Jacques and Jean Boissonault, the twin bullies, muscled their way through the group.

  Jean said, “The same thing happens to our mom sometimes.”

  Jacques elbowed his brother in the ribs. “Shut up.”

  Everyone peppered the blond twins with questions. The burly brothers pushed their way out through the crowd, but Jean slowed down and waited until his brother was out of earshot.

  Then he turned to us and whispered. “Our mom’s got diabetes.”

  Everyone stopped and looked at each other. No one had any clue what diabetes was. More chatter followed as everyone came up with their own ideas.

  “It’s a disease where she has to eat bees or else she faints,” Eric suggested.

  “No, it’s like a problem with her legs,” a French girl with pigtails chimed in.

  “I think she can die from the disease,” Samantha declared.

  Jean shook his head. “It’s not serious. My mom needs to give herself insulin injections every day and she has to be careful about what she eats. Sometimes her levels go off and she faints.”

  “Ew. Strange,” Samantha said.

  Eric agreed. “Does it run in the family?”

  The other kids stared at Jean to see if he would fall over in front of them.

  “It does not,” Jean snapped.

  Normally, the Boisonnault brothers were the ones who made fun of other kids, but Jean had the same wide-eyed fearful look on his face as his victims. He shuffled away, leaving the kids to guess what else the disease did to people.

  Trina whispered in my ear. “I told you Ida wasn’t a robot.”
r />   “You’re right,” I said. I’d figured that out when I saw Mr. E stick Ida with the pen, but I wasn’t going to say anything, because I was enjoying Trina’s lips being so close to my ear.

  “We should tell Remi,” Trina whispered.

  “Follow me.” I reluctantly moved away from her sweet lips.

  As we headed to the secret meeting place by the school shed to meet Remi, my hand brushed against Trina’s arm. A jolt of electricity went up my arm and kicked my heart into a higher gear. I smiled at her, but she looked straight ahead at Remi, who was staring at her from around the corner of the shed. He made another air heart.

  When my mom let me have a treat in the store, I always wanted a chocolate bar and a bag of potato chips, but she always told me I had to pick just one. That’s how I felt right now. I wanted to keep Remi and Trina as my friends, but I was afraid I might have to pick one over the other.

  “Trina, I probably should tell Remi about us on my own.”

  She nodded.

  “We’ll meet back here tomorrow,” I said.

  She veered off to the school fence, trying hard not to look at Remi, who looked back at me and then at her, confused. I jogged up to the shed before he could run after her.

  “Where’s Trina going?”

  “Uh . . . she’s not feeling well. She has to go home.” I didn’t like lying to my friend, but I couldn’t tell him the truth just yet.

  He started to push past me. “I should walk her home.”

  “No, she told me the only thing that would make her feel better is if you found her bike.” Lying seemed to get easier with each lie I told. Practise made perfect. I felt perfectly sick.

  He smiled. “We have to get that bike, and then she’ll be so happy she’ll tell me that . . . well, you know.”

  My friend blushed and looked down at his feet.

  “Do you really like-like Trina that much?” I asked, hoping I could talk him out of liking her.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “What’s so great about her anyway?” I asked. “She’s got a big mouth.”

  He grabbed my shirt. “Don’t talk about her like that.”