He smiled wide and knocked into my shoulder with his elbow. “Oh, so Goat Grove is the one who really lost, right? By getting her?”
“I don’t know,” I said, thinking about the look on Missy’s face when our team had cheered for our ten points. “Missy’s probably not all so bad on the inside.”
Rob stepped back. “Whoa. Who is this guy going soft on Missy the Cruel?”
I grinned. “Way, way, waaay down on the inside,” I said.
“So far you need a flashlight to find it?” he asked.
“So far you need a submarine to find it,” I said.
“So far they can only find it on the other side of the earth,” he said.
“On the other side of the galaxy,” I added, giggling. “The butt of the galaxy.”
“Yeah, now I recognize you,” Rob said, laughing, too. But then our chuckles faded and we found ourselves standing awkwardly next to each other again. “You still mad at me for joining the marines?” he finally asked.
“A little,” I said.
“I’ve still got to go, you know. I already signed up.”
“I know.”
“Sure would be nice if you forgave me before I went.”
“I know,” I said again.
“You know I’m still going to be your brother, even if I’m sent somewhere far away, right? I mean, that never changes. The marines can do a lot of things, but they can’t make me stop being your brother.”
Suddenly the clog was back in my throat, just like it always was when I was around Rob. My eyes filled with tears, which was mortifying. It was not easy being a tough dude around other tough dudes when you were getting all waterworks on them. But I couldn’t help it. All I could think about was Lunchbox Jones carrying around pictures of his dad every day.
“What if you never come back?” I asked. I looked up at him, even though it meant a tear slipped out and raced down my cheek. “My friend’s dad went to Afghanistan and he never came back.”
Rob looked taken aback, as if he’d never guessed that this was what I was so upset about. “I’m coming back, Luke.”
“You can’t promise that,” I said, swiping at a second tear before it could reach my chin.
“No. But who can, you know? I can promise that I’ll do everything I can to make sure I do come back. Is that good enough?”
It wasn’t, but I nodded, anyway, staring at my shoes, because at least he was trying, and it did relieve me a little bit to know that he wanted to come back.
“I’m not going away forever, li’l bro,” he said. “Just for a while.”
“If you don’t come back, I will be really mad at you,” I said, though I doubted that was true. I’d probably be like Lunchbox—way too sad to be mad.
Rob laughed. “Boy, do I believe it! You are really good at being mad! The past month is all the motivation I need!” He knocked into my shoulder again, and I let out a wet, breathy chuckle, glad to feel the clog slide down my throat a little. “Besides, if I never came back, how would I play Fort Invaders with you?”
I looked up at him again, and he smiled. And since I was already crying, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to go ahead and hug my brother.
I wiped my face on his shirt, which he laughed about, and then turned back to the crowd. Off to one side stood a boy that I didn’t recognize. He was about my age, skinny with light brown hair. He stood with a woman, who smiled politely. I looked at him closer and saw the telltale mark of a headset line in his mussed hair.
“Randy?” I asked.
He grinned. “Yep.”
“What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “Our moms talked and decided we should meet, no matter what.”
“But what about the tournament?” I asked.
“We’re on a break. Round two starts in an hour. You can jump in, if you want. I talked to the judges about it. I’ve been playing in the team tournament. Mom’s been taking your spot.” He shielded his mouth with his hand. “She stinks. I need you.”
I turned and Dad was smiling at me, nodding. “Of course you can,” he said.
Walter stepped up to my side. “My uncle Reuben can drive you there. We finished the car last night. I believe I promised you a cheeseburger.”
“Awesome, Walter,” I said. “But I think I’ll buy. I owe you at least that much.”
Walter beamed.
“Great!” I said to Randy. “We’re on. We just have one more thing to do here, and then we can go.”
We’d spent so long celebrating with our families, we missed most of the awards ceremony. We got to our seats just as the emcee held up the last trophy, which was smaller than all the others they’d given out.
“Our last award today,” he said, “is not a planned award. But we saw something very inspiring this morning, and something that we think embodies all the things that are important to great success. The team receiving this award has proven that it’s not always about winning, or being in first place, but is sometimes just about losing graciously. So this award for Most Gracious Defeat goes to . . . Forest Shade Middle School’s Rallying Robo-Raccoons!”
The crowd exploded.
Actually, maybe only we exploded. I couldn’t really tell. There was so much jumping and shouting going on, and the hazy run to the front of the auditorium to accept our trophy, the photos, the flash of our moms’ and dads’ cameras, the blowing of a real whistle that Paw Stanley had wrestled away from a referee, it maybe only seemed like the whole world was happy.
And in the midst of all the celebrating, I saw someone else walk into the back of the auditorium.
He stood in the doorway wearing his camouflage jacket, and holding a brand-new white lunchbox.
I left the stage and walked directly to him.
“Never found it, huh?” I asked.
He shook his head.
I pointed to the lunchbox. “What’s in there?”
He held it up shyly. “Nothing but memories,” he said.
I nodded. It made perfect sense to me that he would carry around a totally empty lunchbox, even if it made sense to nobody else.
“You can add this,” I said. I handed him the trophy, which seemed to be perfectly lunchbox-sized. “You were the first one to not give up, anyway.”
He admired the trophy, then turned and handed it to Principal McMillan, who had come up behind us, the whole team in tow.
“It belongs in the trophy case,” Lunchbox said.
Principal McMillan turned the trophy in his hands, as if he were holding a king’s crown and was afraid he’d drop and break it. “We won something,” he said, almost to himself. “We really won something.” He gazed at the trophy for a moment longer, and then held it up over his head with one hand triumphantly. He clapped Mr. Terry on the back with his other hand. “A cheer for Bruce Terry, for creating the first team in Forest Shade Middle School history that didn’t give up.”
We all cheered. Mr. Terry’s face flushed with happy embarrassment. He put up one finger.
“And we didn’t have any rodents as team captains,” he added, and we all cheered again.
I got caught in the moment. I put up my own finger and cried, “And cheers for Tim, for being the first team member who wouldn’t give up!”
The cheering abruptly stopped. Everyone looked at me quizzically.
“Who’s Tim?” the Jacobs asked.
“Oh. It’s . . . um . . .” I gestured toward Lunchbox. “You see . . . Haven’t you ever thought he might have a real name?”
Nobody spoke.
“It’s okay,” Lunchbox said. “I kind of like the name Lunchbox.”
And everyone cheered again, because it seemed like the right thing to do.
We started to head toward the doors, when Mikayla suddenly made a noise.
“Oh! I almost forgot!” She reached into her backpack and pulled out some rolls of paper, tied with ribbons. “I made some things for you guys.” She handed a roll to Mr. Terry, a roll to one of the Jacobs, a roll to Stuart, a
nd a roll to me. “Open them.”
We all untied our ribbons and unrolled our papers. Mr. Terry was first to hold his up.
“It’s the bot,” he said. Sure enough, in bright greens and blues, was a painting of our robot.
“Ours is of—” one of the Jacobs said.
“Us,” the other one finished, holding up their paper, which perfectly depicted a scene of the two of them trying to unnail Jacob’s shirt from the workbench.
“Oh, wow,” Stuart said. He didn’t hold up his paper, but we could all see it was a big, bright yellow flower with a brown center. “A sunflower.” He looked up at Mikayla. “It’s really good, Mikayla. Thanks!”
Mikayla beamed. “I painted them all with my feet,” she said proudly. “I’m getting a lot better, don’t you think?” We all nodded. She really was getting a lot better. She was actually getting really, really good. “Look at yours, Luke,” she said.
I unrolled mine. And smiled.
“Well?” one of the Jacobs asked.
“What is it?” asked the other.
“I can’t see it,” Stuart said.
I turned it face-out. “It’s me and Lunchbox,” I said. We were both at the computer, Lunchbox sitting in the chair and me leaning over him, pointing at the screen, my hand on his shoulder. We looked hard at work. But we also looked happy. Both of us.
“I thought you would like it,” she said. “I was going to do one of you separately, but it was hard to get a good scene of you two not together. I didn’t have time to paint two of them, so you’ll have to share.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” I said, gazing at the picture again. She even got Lunchbox’s camo jacket right, and the sharp blue lines of his old lunchbox. “It’s . . .”
“It’s amazing,” I heard behind me. I turned. Lunchbox was looking at it over my shoulder.
I rerolled the picture and held it out to him.
“Here,” I said. “I think you should keep it.”
At first he looked confused, and maybe a little wary, like I was pulling a fast one on him. But then, slowly, he reached out and took it. He rolled it a little tighter, then opened his new lunchbox, tucked the roll inside, squishing the corners a little bit to make it fit, and snapped the lunchbox closed.
“Thanks,” he said.
Only it sounded like:
“Thanks.”
(with friendship exploding and stuff.)
CHAPTER 30
PROGRAM NAME: Returns Happen
STEP ONE: Robot hides in robo-fort
STEP TWO: Robot waits
STEP THREE: Bot army destroys enemy invaders
“They’re coming! They’re coming! Man your stations! This is a red alert! I repeat, this is a red alert!”
Rob’s footsteps echoed outside the fort door and soon he dove inside on his knees. He wore his full uniform, which Dad said was probably against all sorts of rules and could get Rob in huge trouble, but Rob didn’t seem to care. He thought it added authenticity to Fort Invaders, and Walter and I were inclined to agree.
Rob was only home for a few weeks. He’d made it through boot camp, and came home different. He was thinner, leaner, his hair cut even shorter. He said things like “Yes, sir” when the paws asked him questions, and sometimes he got quiet for no reason. Mom said he was probably thinking about where the marines would send him, and maybe he was a little scared, but when she said that we both got a little scared, too, so we always changed the subject real quick and ate our ice creams.
But most of the time he was just Rob again. We hung out together in his room. We played three players in Alien Onslaught. We helped each other avoid another corned beef hash cook-off by making up a story about having to go eat pizza with a school group. We were brothers again.
We had been brothers all along. It had just taken some help for me to remember that.
We each manned our stations—Rob, Walter, and me—waiting quietly, our hearts thumping in our chests.
Soon we heard yelling. It got closer as footsteps rustled the leaves. The invasion was coming.
I poked my head through the window. Walter stuck his head through the other window. Rob spilled out the front door. Just as Lunchbox came barreling into view, the Jacobs rained down from trees on either side of the fort.
“Don’t let the invader tag the fort! Don’t let him tag the fort!” I cried, and everyone went after him, laughing, yelling, bumping the sturdy fort walls, Stuart tossing sunflower bombs from a nearby bush.
“You guys! Stop! You’re going to mess up the paint job!” Mikayla yelled. She sat back on her elbows, her feet busily painting the sides of the fort a bright purple. I hated the color. But we all had to make allowances for friends. Sometimes I thought about when Lunchbox told me that Mrs. Talbott had made him join robotics so he could make friends. She’d been right—he had made friends. But the weird part was, so had the rest of us.
Rob roared and raced through the woods at top speed. Boot camp had made him fast, and Lunchbox had no chance. Rob tagged him easily.
Everyone gathered back at the fort and regrouped, breathlessly lounging about and thinking of new ways to call “not it.” After a few minutes, the Jacobs scrambled back up the trees and Walter and Rob and I took up our spaces inside the fort.
Just as we heard Lunchbox call out, “Ready!” a ringtone split the air. Rob glanced down at his pocket.
“You going to answer that?” I asked.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, then pushed a button to silence it. “Naw,” he said. “I’m busy. You ready, li’l bro?”
I poked my head through the window, smiling wide. “Always have been. Ready? One, two, three, go.”
REAL OR FAKE?
Technology moves faster than someone who just accidentally gave Lunchbox Jones two black eyes. There’s no telling where the future of robotics will take us. Five months ago, I never would have guessed that I’d someday know what was inside Lunchbox’s lunchbox, and fifty years ago, nobody would have guessed that the following robots would ever exist. Or do they . . . ? Are the following robots real or fake?
A TRASH-CATCHING ROBOT
Real. It’s called the Smart Trashbox and was invented by a Japanese engineer named Minoru Kurata. A sensor, placed on the wall, senses movement when something is tossed in the air, and the bot, which is built into a trash can, zips to the exact spot to catch the falling trash. This could take Stuart’s sunflower-shell-spitting skills to a whole new level.
A ROBOT THAT CAN RIDE A BULL AND HOG-TIE A SNORTING RHINOCEROS
Fake. Though there is such a thing as a Robotics Rodeo, it has nothing to do with riding horses or wrangling bulls. Instead, it’s an event where professionals can show off their newest robotics technology to the military. Snorting rhinos are cool, but a robot that explodes land mines? Even cooler!
A COACH VERDE BOT
Real. Well, okay, technically it’s not actually Coach Verde, but there is a bot that will go on a run with you. From the Exertion Games Lab, the Joggobot is a quadcopter that can float around you on a run, maybe even pushing you to go faster and farther. The best part? It will never call you “men” or ask you to join its football team.
A ROBOT THAT CAN EXPLODE THINGS WITH ITS EYEBALLS
Fake. But if it did exist, I think we can all agree we would never want Missy the Cruel to have one.
A ROBOTIC TEDDY BEAR THAT MAKES YOU STOP SNORING
Real. It’s called Jukusui-Kun (which means “deep sleep” in Japanese) and was designed to look like a cuddly, floppy bear perfect for sleeping with. But this extraordinary bear is designed to keep its sleepmate from snoring. It does this by using a microphone and a pulse-oxygen meter. If Jukusui-Kun’s sleepmate’s oxygen drops too low and the snoring gets too loud, the bear lightly touches the snorer’s face, causing him to turn to a better, less snore-y position.
A NOSE-PICKING ROBOT
Fake . . . for now. But PR2, a robotic system that can do everything from fold laundry to pic
k up dog poop, has recently been used to help a quadriplegic man do things like shave and scratch itches. Trust me, from a guy who has been known to “scratch itches” on his nose plenty of times, it’s just a matter of time before PR2 has a booger attachment.
A ROBOTIC FART DETECTOR
Real! Created in Sweden’s Örebro University, the Gasbot is armed with sensors and scanners designed to detect methane coming from rotting trash in landfills. Some people think methane is harmful to our environment but could be made useful by gathering it up and turning it into a power source. Methane is also one of the gases contained in farts, so one could make the argument that Gasbot is one big old global fart detector. Woop! Woop! Fart detected in Jeans Sector Five. Commence de-skidmark-ation program in 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1!
AUTHOR’S NOTE
My family was first introduced to robotics in 2012, when my older son joined his middle school’s FIRST LEGO League Robotics team.
We quickly learned that robotics wasn’t just about attaching parts and wires to a motor and watching them toodle around a table. FIRST (For Inspiration and Recognition of Science and Technology) is all about encouraging young people to become leaders in the fields of science, technology, engineering, and math, while also building confidence, self-esteem, and a rock-solid core value of “gracious professionalism.”
Basically that means we have a great time exploring science stuff and we’re nice about it!
In 2013, our family believed so strongly in the principles behind the FIRST program that we got our younger son involved, joined forces with some friends, and created an at-home robotics team of our own. Our team won the Kansas City regionals, and we got to compete in the 2014 FIRST World Festival in St. Louis, Missouri. There were eighty teams from thirty-six countries there. Our team members made friends from Pakistan and New Delhi, chatted with students from South Korea, and danced alongside a team from Lebanon. We got to watch teens perform traditional dances from their native countries, try all kinds of candies we’d never seen before, and learn a few new words in different languages. We worked hard and cheered loudly and met new people.
How Lunchbox Jones Saved Me From Robots, Traitors, and Missy the Cruel Page 16
