Zoe says, “Okay, she’s gone. You can relax now. Drink your hot chocolate.”
I take a sip and burn the roof of my mouth immediately. Ah, who am I kidding? I’m one inch taller. So what! I’m still one of the shortest guys in seventh grade. I haven’t started shaving because there’s nothing to shave, unless I want to shave the new crop of pimples on my face. And let’s not even talk about how I can’t find a deodorant that works. Everyone uses Axe, but it gives me a rash. What do you even do about that? And who do you even ask!
That stupid bell jingles again. If it’s Jamie with Armando, I swear . . .
“Oh no,” Erin says, pulling her hat lower and sliding down in her chair. “This is apparently the day to see everyone you don’t want to see.”
Just then, Marlon Romanov walks in.
ERIN
He’s by himself. Just as I would expect.
“And the plot thickens,” Brian says in a teasing voice, pretending to hold a microphone. “Enter McNutt’s mystery man. Scary tech genius, dressed in black, Erin Marcus’s archenemy. Cue the ominous music. Dum-dum-dum-dummm.”
I don’t even bother to respond to Brian’s nonsense. Marlon goes over to the register with his typical smug, arrogant expression. He’s wearing black jeans and a black jacket, as per usual. Like he’s too cool for a striped shirt or regular blue jeans. He’s probably ordering espresso or cappuccino.
“Look, Erin has steam coming out of her nose,” Brian says.
I raise an eyebrow. “Not funny.”
Ethan jabs Brian, then goes, “Erin, I know you have an issue with him, but try to chill, okay?”
“I am chill! I am very chill. Super-extremely chill.”
Ethan says, “Right, uh-huh.”
Marlon pays, then stands at the counter to wait for his drink, staring straight ahead. He never smiles or looks angry or sad or anything. He’s like . . . emotionless.
At Invention Day last year in sixth grade, Marlon won. He told me—are you ready for this—that men are better than girls at science. Girls! He didn’t even say women. I was so stunned, I just stood there. I thought of several perfect, sarcastic responses later on, believe me, but in the moment I was struck silent.
This year I was hoping with all my heart to beat him, but it didn’t happen. Due to a series of mishaps—mostly involving a football, Brian, and my brother—Zoe’s and my invention to stop the spread of invasive plants didn’t work as we envisioned. We did, however, get a special honorable mention, and we’re determined to return next year with success.
At least Marlon didn’t win. He was disqualified because he didn’t make the required trifold display board. I’m sure he thought he was above that. Parneeta won with her parachute-fabric backpack invention, which I’ll admit I was surprised took first. I realize it was extremely lightweight, durable, and cool-looking, but a backpack?
Anyway, after the awards were announced, I marched up to Marlon, making sure he was aware that women took first, second, and third place. But you know what he did? He stalked out of the gym without a word. No reply whatsoever!
Actually, there might be steam coming out of my nose.
I sip my hot chocolate, dribbling some on my chin. “Erin,” Zoe says, handing me a napkin, “just ignore him. As I told you at Invention Day, he’s not worth it. Don’t waste your energy on him.”
I close my eyes and take a deep, long breath as Zoe would undoubtedly advise. And three breaths later, forget it. I’m sweating profusely and can feel my hair frizzing. I peel off my hat and pull my hair into a bun on top of my head. Why do they keep it so warm in here? It has to be eighty degrees!
Marlon gets his drink and walks out without a glance at anyone. Who does he think he is? So full of himself, like he knows everything and he’s better than everyone.
Zoe, Ethan, and Brian are talking about a video with a dog doing flips on a trampoline or something. I don’t know—I’m barely listening. I crane my neck and see Marlon get into a sleek silver car. It drives off, leaving a long trail of whitish smoke. Ugh, ugh, ugh. There are just some people in this world you wish you never crossed paths with.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Invites
ETHAN
Wednesday we’re back at school and the fun is over. Butt in chair in math, no report from Erin. Another day of scomas in a long line of never-ending scomas.
Before the first-period bell rings, Mrs. Genovese shuffles toward my desk. She gives me this teacher look and I immediately realize what it’s about. I forgot to SHARPEN THE PENCIL I borrowed on Monday.
“Ethan?” she says, lowering her enormous round glasses and gazing down at me.
“Uh . . . yeah?”
“I have something for you.”
That’s it. She’s sending me to pencil jail.
Instead she hands me a hall pass. “You’re supposed to go see Ms. Gilardi.”
I stare at the pass. So, this isn’t about the pencil?
“Ms. Gilardi? Now?” I ask.
“Yes. She wanted to see you first thing, so it must be pretty important.”
I grab my stuff and leave with everyone looking at me. Things rarely turn out well when a teacher pulls you out of a class.
When I get to Gilardi’s room, I see Romanov sitting at a desk in the back. Brian’s leaning on the counter by the window, and Erin and Zoe are there too, sitting in the first row. No one’s talking. What the heck is going on?
Gilardi motions to me. “Ethan, come in.” She’s got a long scarf looped around her neck, and I wonder if that’s what she was knitting when I was in here for Reflection. Are we all in trouble? What did I do?
“Take a seat,” she says. “Or stand, if you prefer. That’s perfectly fine with me.” I go over to Brian. “You know what this is about?” I whisper.
“Not a clue. Can’t be good.”
Gilardi doesn’t look mad, though. In fact she’s, like, beaming at us. “Okay, great, we’re all here. I’m so glad I have a free period right now, because I have some exciting news to share. And let me tell you, it’s been extraordinarily difficult to keep this under wraps for the last few weeks. But I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure.”
We’re all glancing at each other for any kind of hint, but everyone looks confused. Everyone except Romanov. He looks the same as always—like this is incredibly boring and he’d rather be somewhere else.
“Have any of you heard of Zak Canzeri? Better known to the world as Z?” Gilardi asks.
Erin raises her hand. “I’ve heard of him. I follow him on social media.”
“Excellent! Do you know what he does?”
Erin nods. Of course she knows.
“He created a couple of popular apps and built a start-up a few years ago. Something with an online payment system, if I remember correctly.”
“That’s right!” Ms. Gilardi exclaims. “Z is quite the success. One of those twentysomething Silicon Valley wonders.”
Brian crosses one foot over the other. “What does that have to do with us?”
Gilardi points at him. “Glad you asked. Not only is Z a young sensation, but he’s very generous with his time. Z is committed to growing the future generation of techpreneurs. A term he coined himself.”
Erin leans forward and her eyes get wide. “Are you talking about his innovation camps?”
Gilardi clasps her hands. “Yes!”
“His what camps?” Brian says.
“Z runs exclusive pop-up tech camps for kids,” Gilardi says. “Zak Canzeri Innovation Camp, or as they call them, ZCIC. No one knows when the next one will be. They’re very secretive about the process.” She looks at each of us, slowly, one by one. “I can now reveal that I nominated all of you for the next ZCIC when I learned it was going to be held in northern Illinois.”
My sister gasps, but all I’m thinking is, I’m not in trouble. . . . I’ve been nominated for something.
Brian stabs a finger at his chest. “Wait, me?”
In a hushed voic
e Zoe says, “I’m so honored.”
And Marlon is silent.
“I think it’s best if you hear the next part from Z himself.” Gilardi opens her laptop and taps the keys. “Gather ’round, everyone.”
We stand near the laptop. Erin claps a hand across her heart as a shiny gold Z comes on the screen, surrounded by lightning bolts. Classical music plays. Then the Z and the lightning bolts fade away, the music stops, and this guy appears. He’s wearing dark sunglasses, a black jacket, and black pants, and he looks really tall—at least six-five, I’d guess. “Hello, friends,” he says. “I am Zak Canzeri. But please, call me Z, as the world does. It is my distinct pleasure to inform you that you have been invited to attend the next ZCIC. Our exclusive coterie, if you will.”
“Coterie?” I repeat.
Erin whips her head around. “Shh! It’s a small group of people with shared interests.” She quickly turns back to the screen. How does Erin know words that no one else knows? Except Zak Canzeri, obviously.
Z continues. “ZCIC is an invention, maker, business, and tech camp all in one. Only one hundred young people are invited to each session. Simply put, it is a life-changing experience. You will invent, design, build, and showcase. You will create a real or virtual entity and put together a complete business plan. On the final day, you will present your work to a panel of experts and potential investors. Congratulations. We hope to see you there.”
He smiles with his mouth closed; then the screen goes to black. The gold Z returns, pops and sizzles like a firecracker, then disappears. He never took off the sunglasses the whole time he was talking. Kinda weird, but maybe that’s standard for Silicon Valley sensations?
Erin’s face is shiny and she’s panting a little. “I—I don’t know what to say! I’m in shock, absolute shock! This is amazing! I’ve seen posts that some of the kids’ inventions from ZCIC have become actual products.”
“That’s true, Erin.” Gilardi closes the laptop. We all stand around her, but Romanov goes to the desk he was sitting at in the back of the room.
“The most wonderful part of ZCIC,” Gilardi explains, “is that the sky’s the limit. Invent an app or a drone or a robot. Focus on the environment, a health issue, or even something fun. Anything and everything.”
“When is the camp?” Zoe asks.
“Oh! Of course, the details.” Gilardi picks up some papers from her desk and hands one to each of us. “It’s during the second week of winter break. I sincerely hope that all of you can take part in this one-of-a-kind experience. I know it’s rather short notice, but that’s how they do it. People drop everything to be at one of these.”
Erin’s holding the paper with trembling hands. “A printed invitation on white stationery. With gold lettering.”
I look down at mine. There’s my name, typed and, yes, in gold. It even says “Mr.,” as in Mr. Ethan Marcus. Okay, I get Erin and Zoe being nominated, and of course Romanov. No question there. But . . . me and Brian?
He must be thinking the same thing. “Uh . . . ,” he says. “You’re sure you meant to nominate me?”
Gilardi laughs. “I’ll be honest, I considered several students, and it wasn’t an easy choice. I could only nominate five. I was looking for a quality that’s hard to pin down but you know it when you see it. An inner passion, I suppose. Not simply making something by following a plan, but embracing the true spirit of invention. Being creative and curious. Pushing the boundaries without even realizing you’re doing it.”
I have all that? She got that from seeing my desk-evator?
Zoe blinks, like she’s trying not to cry. “I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity.”
Gilardi nods. “I know, it’s overwhelming.”
Marlon still hasn’t said a word.
Gilardi unloops her scarf and drapes it over her chair. “The ZCIC motto is TADA. It stands for Tenacity, Appetite, Determination, Aim.”
Brian smirks. “I always knew I was a TADA kinda guy.”
Gilardi looks back at Marlon. “The robotic hand.” She gestures to Erin and Zoe. “The All-Natural Invasive Plant Destroyer.” Finally she turns to me and Brian. “The deskalator.”
“Desk-evator,” I say. Although that would’ve been a good name. I didn’t think of that.
“Right. What I saw at Invention Day from you five, well, that was TADA.”
Erin turns her head slowly, then gapes at me. Well, whaddya know? For once in our lives, my sister and I are on the same level.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Reactions
ERIN
Ms. Gilardi goes over details about registering for the camp and urges us to talk to our parents ASAP. No worries there. First thing on tonight’s agenda.
Zoe and I walk out together. I’m still in shock. “Zak Canzeri Innovation Camp! Can you believe this in a million years?”
“I know. It’s incredible.”
Everything in the hall is a blur. My cerebrum is absolutely buzzing. I’ll need to have an idea in mind before I arrive on the first day. A fully fleshed-out concept, perhaps. Maybe even an outline of my business plan too. I’m going to be competing with the best of the best.
Which is why I’m having trouble wrapping my head around Ms. Gilardi’s choice of my brother and Brian. The spirit of invention, creativity—a bit of a stretch, but okay. Except for one crucial fact. They made the desk-evator out of spatulas, chip clips, and a broken cutting board. They used duct tape!
I can tell you right now, even though I’ve never been to a ZCIC, I know that kind of sloppiness won’t cut it.
I turn toward Zoe. “From what I’ve seen online, these camps are super intense. You have to . . .” Her bottom lip is quivering, and it looks like she might burst into tears any second. “What’s wrong?”
She sniffles. “The camp is the same time that I’m supposed to go visit my relatives in Michigan. We’re staying a few days. My aunt and uncle and cousins.”
“Well, there’s no discussion here. You simply have to get out of it. Once your mom understands that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, she won’t make you go. There’s no way! You can stay at my house.”
Zoe’s face brightens. “Okay! You’re right. I’ll talk to her.” She ducks into her classroom.
Before I go into science, I quickly read over the first paragraph of the invitation again, making 100 percent sure I didn’t imagine the events of the last half hour.
Dear Ms. Erin Marcus,
You are cordially invited to attend a five-day session of the prestigious, highly selective Zak Canzeri Innovation Camp (ZCIC), to be held on the campus of Colton College in Forest Hill, Illinois, from December 26 to 30. Congratulations! You are part of an elite group of one hundred carefully chosen students. Z looks forward to welcoming you.
Did you hear that? It’s real. Z looks forward to welcoming me! I’ve seen tweets and videos about the camps, but never thought that I would be invited to one.
This. This changes everything.
ZOE
When I get home after school, no one’s around. Mom’s at work, and my little sister, Hannah, is at a friend’s house. I’m secretly glad. Hannah and I share a room, and she chatters nonstop about everything that comes into her mind. There are times I need quiet and privacy. You know.
I have to make Mom understand about the camp. She doesn’t exactly get things like this. Dad would’ve, but he’s not here. I suppose I could try to text him, but he’s in Thailand. It’s, what, like four a.m. there? And anyway, what difference would it make if I reached him?
I go into my room, sit on the edge of my bed, and hug my sunflower pillow. I always try to be positive, because negative thoughts never help a situation, but I admit I’ve been dreading the Michigan trip. Let’s just say that side of the family is not exactly my cup of organic chamomile tea.
Aunt Marci is Mom’s older sister, and she’s sort of Erin-ish. Always telling Mom what to do and not to do. With Erin, I can hold my own when I need to. And I know that de
ep down Erin has a good, well-meaning heart. It might not seem like it sometimes, but she does. Like when Dad didn’t come back from Thailand after he met Dara, Erin was there for me. She’d split her cookie with me at lunch or come to the Be Green Club meetings when no one else did.
But Mom never holds her own with her sister. And I’m not so sure about the quality of Aunt Marci’s heart.
I press my lips together and hold back a sob. Mom can’t make me go, not now! Besides, Ethan was invited to the camp too! Maybe we can work on a project together if they allow that.
I know, you’re probably thinking I’m too into him. The truth is, I like Ethan a lot, but there’s more to it. I want to, need to, believe in love with all my brainpower. Because really, when it comes down to it, if you don’t believe in love, how can you believe in anything in the universe?
My parents have been divorced since I was nine (Hannah was only six), but it was okay. That’s not what I’m talking about. Mom and Dad got along better, and Dad and I had our Saturdays. We’d go to the nature center, take long hikes, and discuss how to save the planet. He’s the one who got me interested in environmental issues in the first place.
But a year ago Dad went on a business trip to Thailand, got an eye infection while he was there, and fell in love with the doctor who treated him. (That would be Dara.) He told us he wasn’t coming back. Mom hung up on him, and that’s been it. Dad and I texted at first, but now not so much.
Aunt Marci calls all the time to tell Mom how she never actually liked Dad and how terrible it is that he abandoned me and Hannah. Her voice is loud. I hear everything.
And let me add this: Aunt Marci does not believe in recycling. She says it doesn’t make a difference. They throw everything away. When we visit, she uses paper plates and Styrofoam cups! It’s so upsetting. Can you imagine how much garbage they must produce? I can’t bear to think about it.
Ethan Marcus Makes His Mark Page 3
