Ethan Marcus Makes His Mark

by Michele Weber Hurwitz

  My few words were followed by unpleasant looks. Surprise, disbelief, and perhaps disdain from the people near me. I am not certain. I am never certain. There were some sneers, raised eyebrows, a bit of quiet laughter. I was planning to briefly summarize the idea for my invention, but I quickly returned to my seat.

  A girl at my table said: “Well, aren’t you all that?”

  I didn’t understand. All that what?

  The other kids at the table looked beyond, around, through.

  Mom has told me that exceptional people have trouble fitting into a world that wasn’t designed for them. No matter where I am, this seems to be true.

  Did you know I like to do jigsaw puzzles? I challenge myself with each new one. A faster time, or more pieces. In the last puzzle I completed (five thousand), there were several uniform-colored pieces that bore no relation to the pieces they fit with. Solid orange, green, black.

  Difficult, oddly shaped, nearly impossible to find where they go. Nothing that would indicate how they connect to the pieces around them. Quite frustrating.

  As I suspect you realize, I am not referring only to the pieces.

  This morning, when I arrived at ZCIC, I envisioned something different. I thought perhaps this time it would be easier to fit into the puzzle. But the kids here seem mostly the same as the kids at McNutt and the other schools.

  Them, and me.

  I fear it will always be this way.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Zations and a Zactivity

  ERIN

  I think I did okay, but I was nervous during my speech. I could hear my voice shaking slightly. Public speaking is actually one of people’s biggest fears, along with going to the dentist. I’m usually so confident and articulate. The nervousness must be due to my elated state of mind. Don’t worry. IBF. I’ll Be Fine.

  I still can’t believe I’m really here. Some girls would feel this way at a concert or a fashion show, but this, this is my fandom. And to think, in just a few hours I will be in the same room as ZAK CANZERI. I can hardly process that.

  When the speeches are over, we’re ushered into the Zation room. Ethan walks toward the robotics area. Maybe he’s rethinking the desk-evator concept? Hoping to make some sort of automated version? Who knows what’s floating around my brother’s head?

  The girl from our table, Natalia, goes up to him. Hmm. What’s that about? She was all over the place with her speech, talking about mandalas and staying in the moment and embracing the wholeness of the universe. I have a hard time with vague concepts like that.

  I cut through the crowd to the coding/programming area, looking for Connor. I need to find out what he codes, exactly. But who’s the first person I see? Marlon, of course. He’s typing rapidly on his laptop, completely focused on the screen, and he’s wearing noise-canceling headphones.

  I turn away abruptly, then practically bump into Connor. He’s tall and skinny like Ethan. “Oh, hi. I’ve been looking for you,” I say. “Can we talk? I’d love to know what you’ve coded.”

  He shrugs, pushes up his glasses. “Not all that much. I built a website for my mom’s business, and then one for my uncle. I created an app, too. Just for fun. It was pretty basic, though.”

  My mouth drops open. “Not all that much? Just for fun? Why didn’t you say any of that in your speech? You talked about grilled cheese sandwiches. And your dog.”

  “I don’t like bragging. People do it too much, you know? And I do have this great dog.” He pulls out his phone and shows me a picture of a scruffy grayish-whitish dog. “Picasso,” he says.

  “Cute. Anyway, can I share my idea with you? Or did you already have a project in mind?”

  “I thought I’d figure it out when I got here. I’m not a huge planner kind of person.” Connor gestures to a couple of chairs by the wall. “Sure. Tell me what you got.”

  We sit; then I move my chair so I’m facing him. I open my briefcase, pull out my research notes. He leans back, crosses his hands behind his head, and stretches out his legs. His jeans are torn at the bottom, and one of his shoes has a hole by the toe. Okay, I’m getting his image. Casual and indifferent on the outside, brilliant tech mind on the inside.

  “Let me guess,” he says. “You are a huge planner kind of person?”

  “Definitely. So, did you know that a main reason kids don’t do well in school is because of disorganization?”

  “Okay.”

  “I plan to create the Note to Self. It will be an all-in-one homework reminder, assignment tracker, study guide, and anti-failure guarantee. I picture a device similar to a step-tracker bracelet with a coordinating app that are both synched to your teachers’ web pages. It would buzz with reminders of when things are due, always keeping you on track and organized.”

  “Kids would take it off,” he interrupts. “Lose it.”

  “Not responsible kids.”

  “Nope. Gotta change that part.”

  “Excuse me, but if we work together, I would need you to code, not modify the concept.”

  He grins at me. “Are you always like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “In charge of the world.”

  I sit up straighter. “Yes, actually.”

  “Just clarifying. Go on.”

  “I’ve done a complete business plan. Figured out the financials. Brainstormed sales and marketing strategies, designed logos.”

  “Wow,” Connor says, perhaps a little sarcastically.

  I decide not to address that. “Programming isn’t my skill set. I’m an analyst. So, what do you say? Are you in?”

  He unclasps his hands, sits forward, studies me with his head tilted. “Possibly.”

  “Possibly? Well, what’s the deal breaker?”

  He laughs. “The deal breaker. You’re hilarious. I have to say, I admire your confidence, but if I’m in, I’m not just coding. I have an equal say in everything. It wouldn’t be only your project—we’d figure it out together. I have some thoughts.”

  I put my notes back into my briefcase. “That’s not how I see it. I have it all prepared. I’m not changing things.”

  “No worries. Good luck.” Connor gets up and drifts toward the engineering area.

  All right, back to square one. I pick up my briefcase and return to coding/programming. I find two guys who know how to code, but they inform me they’re already doing a project together. Everyone else is hunched over a laptop or examining a microchip or something. Marlon hasn’t moved.

  I spot my brother and Natalia, still in the robotics Zation, inspecting a drone. Natalia says something and Ethan nods. Is he teaming up with her? What are they making? I tell myself not to panic, that I’ll find some brilliant coder who’ll love my idea as is.

  Jet announces that we should return to the atrium. Now we have assigned tables, and when I find my name card, guess who’s next to me? No, not Marlon, thankfully. Connor. What are the odds? Out of a hundred kids? He saunters over, and I realize he reminds me of Ethan, except that, obviously, Ethan has never coded anything in his life.

  “Find anyone?” he asks.

  “Not yet.”

  He takes off his glasses, cleans them on his shirt. “My offer still stands.”

  I shake my head.

  Jet says we’re going to do a Zactivity, and Imani and Maddox will demonstrate. They stand in front of the room, and Imani says, “This won’t work.” Maddox responds, “Yes, it will.”

  Then they proceed to say the same sentences over and over. This won’t work; yes it will. Imani gets more insistent each time, but Maddox doesn’t get mad or emotional.

  Jet tells us to find a partner and do the same thing together, and we’re going to talk about why afterward. I turn to the girl on my left, but Connor, on my right, elbows me. “Partner?” he asks. I’m about to say no, but the girl has already turned to the person on her left.

  “Fine.”

  We start saying “this won’t work; yes it will.” I say it to Connor first, and as I could’v
e predicted, he’s cool, calm, and unruffled. Then we switch and he starts telling me “this won’t work.”

  I’m calm too, at first, trying to respond exactly as Maddox did, but I find myself getting annoyed. His voice is so, like, relaxed. Maybe it’s because of our previous discussion, but all of a sudden I just burst and yell, “STOP!”

  The kids at my table and several others turn around; then Jet makes his way over. I’ve either broken some sort of rule or failed the first Zactivity.

  Jet puts his hand on the back of my chair. “Everything cool?”

  Connor gives him a thumbs-up. “We’re good now. We had a moment.”

  Jet stands there for a few seconds, then leaves. “Okay, that’s enough, everyone,” he says when he gets back to the front of the room. “So the reason for this Zactivity was to dramatize the T in TADA. Tenacity. In other words, resilience, persistence, determination.” He points to the window again. “When you’re out there, that’s numero uno.”

  I bite my lip and glance at Connor. “Thanks.”

  “No big deal.”

  Jet says we can take “a breather” for a few minutes as lunch is being brought out. Two kids at my table start discussing an improved device for people with hearing loss. I glance at the girl on my left. She’s scribbled Melting Polar Ice on a notepad. At another table I see Natalia drawing on her tablet. Ethan walks up and looks over her shoulder. Everyone’s got something going already!

  I clear my throat. “Connor?”

  He shoots me a grin. “What now, Person in Charge? You changed your mind?”

  “Um, well, yes. I have, actually.”

  “Good, because I like your idea and I didn’t really have anything all that solid. But we’re partners on this, right? Fifty-fifty.”

  “Yes. I—I’m open to your thoughts.”

  He reaches out to shake my hand. “Then it’s a deal.”

  I shake firmly. A server places a plate of pasta in front of me, and I spread my napkin on my lap. I had to agree; I need him. I’ll just have to assess how that fifty-fifty arrangement goes.

  After lunch we get a fifteen-minute break. I grab my phone and immediately text Zoe. She texted me hours ago, but I couldn’t reply.

  I met this guy Connor who likes the NTS idea and he codes!

  She responds immediately. That’s great!

  He created two websites and an app!

  Yay! Have you met Z?

  Not yet. This afternoon.

  Sad-face emoji. I wish I was there.

  Me too. It’s completely amazing. I don’t want to make her feel worse, so I ask, How’s everything there?

  Not so good. I forgot how my aunt talks ALL the time like Hannah. She even yells to us while she’s in the bathroom. And all they do is watch football.

  So annoying.

  How’s Ethan?

  Haven’t talked to him since we got here. I think he’s working with this girl Natalia.

  Zoe doesn’t answer.

  Don’t worry, I say.

  Is she cute?

  She’s weird. Like, all spiritual. Do you know what a mandala is?

  Yes.

  That was her project that got her into the camp. Something with mandalas and autism.

  Are they hanging out a lot?

  I don’t know. But don’t worry, okay?

  She responds a minute later: I always worry.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Cleared for Takeoff

  ETHAN

  Something weird about dreams. They vanish the instant you wake up, but then you remember something later, usually at the strangest moment. I don’t get why that happens.

  Anyway, while I was listening to everyone’s speeches, Mrs. Slovenko popped into my mind. I don’t have music until next quarter, but everyone loves her. She turns everything into a song, I hear, even when she’s taking attendance.

  I was thinking about how I saw her adjusting the music stand on the last day of school before winter break; then I remembered how she was doing that in my mixed-up dream. Next thing it was like I was hit with a Z lightning bolt. I can’t explain it, but the idea for the new and improved desk-evator was just THERE. In a flash I knew what it looked like and how it would work.

  I grabbed my gold pencil, flipped over a piece of paper from my Zacket, and started sketching. Natalia glanced over. “What’s that?” she whispered.

  “A really cool standing desk. For school.”

  She redid a braid and watched me draw.

  Later, when we were at the robotics Zation, I told her the whole story: Invention Day, the failed desk-evator, Ethan Squiggle Disease, even my dream. I described my new idea and—get this—she asked if she could work with me!

  “Dreams are a window to our creativity,” she said. “My brother often cries when he dreams. They are more powerful than we realize.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I answered. I was just ecstatic that someone liked what I’d come up with.

  We were looking at the drone when I remembered something else. I only saw Mrs. Slovenko adjusting the music stand because I stopped to read Wesley’s flyer. You have to admit the timing of that is a little freaky. Did Wesley unintentionally help me again? Who knows. Doesn’t matter, I guess. I’m cleared for takeoff!

  During the break I pull out my phone and text Brian. I got it!

  What?

  The way to make it new and improved!

  Sweet. What is it?

  I’m calling it DESK ON A STICK.

  He doesn’t reply.

  Like a music stand! The desk part slides up and down a long post, and there’s a stool that unfolds when you want to sit. It’s an all-in-one unit, not just on a desktop. And it’s on WHEELS!

  Well, I have to say, things on a stick are awesome. Popsicles, lollipops, chicken satay.

  Right! This is it! It appeared in a vision or something!! I’m going nuts with exclamation points.

  Brian sends me an eye-roll emoji. Don’t get all deep on me, Marcus.

  Sorry, but true. And this girl Natalia likes my idea. We’re teaming up. She thinks it should have holders for supplies and stuff.

  See, just as I predicted, you’re getting sucked into Canzeri world.

  It is a little weird here. They change words to start with Z, like Zation instead of station. Everything’s black and gold. And the Z Team people are kinda robotic.

  Sounds like a cult.

  What do you know about cults?

  You hear things. Anyway, wanna know what I’ve been doing? I helped my dad sweep pine needles from under the tree. I listened to Gram snore. I went to Target with my mom for the after-Christmas sale. I broke the blender. That was fun.

  How’d you do that?

  In my defense, it was a really old blender. I was making a smoothie, but the blender sounded like an injured animal. I took off the lid and it turned into a geyser. Fruit shot up at the ceiling. The motor blew.

  Awesome.

  No. Not awesome. I’m banned from the kitchen.

  Nice. I gotta go. They’re blinking the lights.

  Spooky.

  Don’t blow anything else up.

  Don’t join a cult.

  I go back to the table I was sitting at in the morning. Natalia’s already there. She pats the seat of the chair next to her, then whispers, “Z is about to make his entrance.”

  Just then, the lights go out.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Z

  ETHAN

  In the middle of the atrium, there’s a puff of smoke. Gold laser lights rocket around the room—in the shape of Zs—and loud music starts playing. When the smoke fades, this guy is standing there. Really tall, thin, dark hair, sunglasses. Black pants and a black shirt, with hands casually in his pants pockets.

  Jet grabs the microphone and motions to Imani. The music stops. “The man before us needs no introduction,” Jet says, and everyone claps crazily. I see Erin, sitting next to Connor. Her eyes are popping out of her head, and her mouth is open a mile wide.

  Z ta
kes the microphone but can’t say a word for several minutes because of the cheering and applause. Finally the room quiets down, and Z says in a low voice, “How ya doin’, all you Z people?”

  Kids start going nuts again; then Z holds up his palm and it gets silent. He presses his hand to his heart. “I’m genuinely touched by your welcome. But I should be cheering for you.” He sweeps an arm, like he’s a conductor. “You, every one of you in this room, are the people who will shape the world of the future. A world we have just barely begun to imagine. I have no doubt you will do amazing work here. To innovate is not only to invent and create; it is to revolutionize. Go. Do. Be.”

  He lifts his arm into the air and draws an invisible Z with one finger; then the lights go out and the puff of smoke appears again. When it fades and the lights are back on, Z is gone.

  Kids start murmuring and whispering. Erin has her head on the table she’s sitting at, like she passed out or something. Natalia’s staring at the spot where Z stood. “Wow. Where did he go? Do you think there was a trapdoor?”

  “Maybe,” I say, craning my neck. “I don’t see one.”

  “Magicians are so intriguing,” she says. “I always try to figure out how they do their tricks. They make it look so real, but you know there’s always a catch.”

  Jet announces it’s time to start figuring out our projects and decide if we’re working with others or alone. We can go back to the Zations anytime, he says, and consult with the Z Team. “And remember, think Z!”

  Natalia pulls out her tablet. “Should we get started?” I nod, still watching the last bits of smoke disappear. Where did he go?

  “First,” she says, “I think we need to address the engineering component. How’s the standing desk going to work? What do we use to build it? How will we attach the stool?”

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.” I remember me and Brian in my basement, trying to make the desk-evator out of ridiculous materials that didn’t even make sense. So this is what it’s like to work with someone who knows what they’re doing.