I shrugged and tapped my forehead. ‘A scientist never forgets.’
Still, I felt pretty bad about the roses. I’d need to make it up to Joe somehow.
It was yet another item on my experiment to-do list. At this rate, I’d be busy for the rest of the year. Maybe even the rest of my life.
I headed to the whiteboard and grabbed the marker. ‘One extra week of screen-time ban?’ I suggested.
But Dad shook his head.
‘Don’t worry about it, Edie. A couple of roses weren’t worth Joe getting his “knickers in a knot” about.’ He rolled his eyes. Then his expression went serious. ‘Just try to stay out of trouble, okay?’
I nodded resolutely. ‘I will, Dad. I promise.’
And I really meant it.
With rumours of me trying to poison my classmates circulating the school, I wasn’t too surprised when I was called in to speak to Ms Newton the next day. Apparently, one of the kids in my class had had to go to the doctor with food poisoning, and his mum had rung Ms Newton to complain. (I had noticed that one kid had taken three cookies as he skipped through the door, so that could explain it.)
However, this time I was prepared for visiting Ms Newton. I had a written note from Mum that clearly explained my mistake with the cookies and apologised for the error with the flowers.
Ms Newton was surprisingly understanding this time . . . at first, anyway.
‘I didn’t mean any harm,’ I explained, being careful to avoid eye contact with the chihuahuas on her earrings. ‘It was an honest mistake.’
Ms Newton raised an eyebrow. ‘Which one?’ But the corners of her mouth twitched a little.
‘Yes, well . . . both of them.’ I sighed. ‘The cookies tasted terrible because of an error with the ingredients list, and the headless flowers were a transportation issue. It won’t happen again.’
Ms Newton smiled for the first time since I’d met her. ‘It’s tough starting at a new school, isn’t it, Edie?’
‘Sure is.’ Making friends wasn’t rocket science. It was much, much harder.
‘You know what?’ She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk. ‘I believe you.’
My eyes almost popped out of my head. ‘You do?’
‘I do. I can see that your heart’s in the right place, even if sometimes it doesn’t come across like it.’
I exhaled. It was my lucky day!
‘Should I come to detention tomorrow?’ I offered. ‘I could do some more bookcase ordering, if you need it.’
Her shoulders stiffened. ‘No, no,’ she replied. ‘That won’t be necessary. Just stay out of trouble, okay?’ She straightened in her chair. ‘Now, back to class, thanks.’
‘Yes, Miss.’ I hopped up, my heart as light as a feather. Ms Newton wasn’t so bad after all – she was actually quite nice, underneath all that frowning. In fact, as I headed for the door, I had a thought, one good deed deserves another, right?
I turned around. ‘Have you ever tried wrinkle cream, Ms Newton?’
As soon as the words left my lips, Ms Newton froze.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Wrinkle cream? What do you mean?’
There you go, I thought to myself, it turns out I’m not the only person in the world who hasn’t heard of wrinkle cream.
‘It’s a special type of moisturiser,’ I explained as I plonked back down in front of her.
Ms Newton’s mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.
‘Wrinkle cream can have great results, apparently,’ I said, thinking of the pamphlet from the shops. ‘I thought you might be interested in trying some.’ With any luck, her happiness levels would skyrocket. I could picture her with her hair long and flowing like the lady’s on the wrinkle cream pamphlet, not pinned back in a tight bun like it was at the moment. I could imagine Ms Newton laughing and springing around the school, rather than power walking around looking like she was on her way to a convention on frowning.
Ms Newton still wasn’t speaking, so I quickly filled the silence.
‘I’ve tried making my own wrinkle cream,’ I told her. ‘You know what?’ I leaned forward, my elbows on the desk. ‘You could try some, if you like?’
Ms Newton gave a ghastly expression.
‘For free, of course,’ I clarified. ‘And don’t worry, I’ve had good results with my trials so far.’ I left out the fact that my main test subject, Max, didn’t have too many wrinkles to start with. The fact was – he hadn’t developed any since I’d been applying the cream as part of his night-time routine.
Ms Newton’s eyes widened and her face turned a fiery red. She sat up straight, like a cobra about to strike its prey. And she finally found her voice again. At a much louder volume than before.
‘HOW DARE YOU, YOUNG LADY!’
I have to say, principals must not like to be offered free moisturiser. The rant that Ms Newton launched into almost blew me off my chair.
Bottom line was, I left Ms Newton’s office with litter duty for a whole week.
‘She thought you were being rude,’ Winnie explained to me that afternoon, after I’d told her my whole sorry story. ‘She thought you were calling her old and wrinkly.’
‘Oh.’ I frowned down the phone line. ‘I wasn’t saying that at all. I was just trying to be helpful.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘But sometimes adults don’t understand.’
‘Yeah, I guess so.’ I sighed.
At least I hadn’t offered Mum the wrinkle cream. Dad was right to suggest flowers instead. My stomach went all twisty. ‘I wouldn’t end up in so much trouble if you were around.’
Winnie laughed. ‘You mean – we’d both get in trouble if I was around?’
I giggled. ‘Yeah, that’s true. But Ms Newton’s office wouldn’t be quite as scary if you were there with me.’ With her red hair and equally fiery personality, Winnie brightened any situation.
‘I miss you too, you know,’ she said. ‘Science isn’t the same without you constantly correcting Mrs Tanaka.’
‘Well, someone had to do it.’ Mrs Tanaka was one of the nicest teachers at my old school, but I needed to correct her science facts pretty often. Luckily, I was happy to help out, even if the way she grimaced as she said, ‘Okay then, thank you, Edie,’ never seemed particularly appreciative.
We chatted for a few more minutes, Winnie catching me up on all the news at my old school. There were two new teachers since I’d left – one was really cranky and young, and one was really cranky and old. Plus, there was a new swing set for the junior playground.
My heart felt like it was still on the other side of the city. ‘Wish I still went to school with you.’
‘I know,’ said Winnie. ‘Me too. But it’ll get better, Edie.’
‘Not anytime soon,’ I grumbled. ‘And now I’m on litter duty for a whole week!’ How was I going to make friends when I kept getting stuck in detention and litter duty?
‘At least you’ll be cleaning up the environment,’ Winnie pointed out. ‘It’ll be like your very own Litter Brigade.’
I smiled. ‘That’s true.’
The year before, Winnie and I had spent one whole week hiding behind the rubbish bins and blowing our whistles at anyone who put their rubbish in the wrong bin. When Miss Firth tripped over and sprained her ankle after being startled one time, our Litter Brigade was stopped. We felt bad that Miss Firth had hurt herself, but it was kind of her fault – she was trying to put a plastic bottle into the regular rubbish bin.
Thinking of our Litter Brigade gave me an idea.
By the time we’d hung up, Winnie and I had come up with the perfect way to make the most of my litter duty . . . Not only that, it was bound to win over my classmates as well.
As soon as the lunch bell rang, I sprinted out the door and bolted for the teacher on playground duty.
‘I’m ready for litter duty!’
He gave me a funny look as he held out the garbage bag and grabber stick, probably because I was smiling so widely my cheeks hurt.
‘Have fun,’ he said, but his good wishes didn’t extend to his eyes. I’ve noticed adults do that a lot – it’s like their mouths say things that their eyes don’t agree with. What’s with that?
Anyway, I didn’t have time to ponder the thought – I had a world record to set. I grabbed the equipment. ‘I will!’
The Guinness World Records didn’t specifically have a hand-picked litter collection record – but I was pretty sure they’d be open to the idea of creating a new category. All I had to do was impress them with how quickly I could collect rubbish, and the rest would be history.
I set my stopwatch, then raced around the playground, collecting as many pieces of rubbish as I could within one minute.
‘Seventeen,’ I said to myself as I finished counting the pieces of litter underneath the jacaranda tree. It wasn’t too bad, but it would have to be better if I was going to impress the Guinness World Records committee.
I did a couple of stretches to help me limber up, then set my stopwatch a second time, and ran around the playground again.
‘You can do it!’
‘Keep it up!’
‘Faster, faster, faster!’
A group of Prep kids had cottoned on to what I was doing, and started sprinting behind me, cheering.
Even though they were great motivation, I only managed to collect fifteen pieces in my second minute.
‘Bummer.’ I stamped my foot. ‘Even worse than before!’
‘You could try again?’ A little boy with curly red hair grinned up at me.
‘Yeah, you can do it!’ chimed in a girl with chubby cheeks.
I smiled. ‘Okay.’
I ran another three trials, but I still couldn’t beat seventeen pieces.
As I was doubled-over, catching my breath by the jacaranda tree, the teacher on duty strode over. ‘Everything okay?’ He looked from me to the group of Prep kids.
‘Y-yes, I’m okay,’ I panted.
‘She’s just setting a world record,’ the girl with chubby cheeks piped up.
The teacher’s brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment a tall boy sprinted past holding an empty juice bottle, his hat dripping wet.
‘Hey you, get back here!’ The teacher took off after him.
‘Sorry, guys,’ I said to the Prep kids. ‘I don’t think seventeen pieces is good enough.’
The records I’d looked up the night before were amazing. Things like doing seventy cartwheels in one minute, or drinking a bottle of mustard in fourteen seconds. Picking up seventeen pieces of litter in one minute didn’t sound too impressive in comparison.
‘You could try one more time?’
‘Try again! Try again!’
‘I believe in you!’
The kids were pretty supportive, but there wasn’t that much litter left in the playground.
‘I might try another time,’ I said. ‘I think I need to do some training first.’
Some training was an understatement. I’d need an Olympic sprinter as my coach if there was any chance of me setting a Guinness World Record.
So the Prep kids went back to the monkey bars, and I returned to collecting litter at a regular speed. It wasn’t as fun as trying to set a world record, but it was a lot less tiring.
As I continued my rounds of the playground that lunchtime, I started to notice something. Some spots had much more rubbish than others. The handball courts and the Year One area had the most rubbish, with only stray bits and pieces around the rest of the playground. It wasn’t all that surprising, I guess: handball is a major craze at this school, and young kids are extremely messy (something I’ve noticed from spending time with Max).
The interesting thing was, however, that these particular spots had something in common: they didn’t have any rubbish bins close by.
This was something I knew exactly how to fix. And I didn’t need to be an incredibly fast sprinter to do it.
I ran to the maintenance shed by the back fence (at a non-record pace), and scavenged through the pile of broken chairs and gardening tools, until I found a few small drums.
‘Perfect!’ I said to myself.
I moved one drum next to the handball courts and another by a tree in the Year One playground. I also relocated a few bins that were a little hidden in their current positions – obscured by low-hanging tree branches or tucked around the corners of buildings – and made sure they were visible from all angles.
‘What are you up to, Edie?’ I turned around to find Mr Zhu approaching me, smiling quizzically.
‘Oh, Mr Zhu – check this out!’
I launched into a rapid explanation of my Guinness World Record attempt, followed by my Rubbish Bin Relocation Project.
Mr Zhu looked completely surprised. In a good way this time – not like when he discovered his laptop had been accidentally slimed.
‘Well done, Edie,’ he said. ‘You should be proud of yourself. You’ve taken great initiative today.’
‘Thanks, Mr Zhu.’ I smiled from cheek to cheek.
I had such a good time doing litter duty that day, I almost forgot it was meant to be a punishment.
For the rest of the afternoon, you couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. Even though I was still no closer to making friends, at last I’d had a successful experiment. My scientific confidence was back.
I wasn’t even bothered when Emily James mumbled ‘cookie poisoner’ when I passed her desk on the way back from sharpening my pencils. I just rolled my eyes, sat back down and continued with my maths problems. (It was percentages, after all, which is one of my favourite maths topics.)
My day got even better when, after the final bell rang, Mr Zhu asked me to stay behind for a quick chat.
‘Am I in trouble?’ I asked automatically, searching my brain for any possible incidents that could have occurred.
‘Not at all,’ he said with a chuckle. His dark eyes twinkled, reminding me again of Max’s teddy bear, Mr Bots. ‘Quite the opposite. I told Ms Newton about your Rubbish Bin Relocation Project at lunchtime today.’
I gasped. ‘You did?’
He laughed again. ‘Don’t look so worried, Edie! She was very impressed with the initiative you showed for our school.’ He beamed. ‘So impressed, in fact, that she’s cancelled your litter duty for the rest of the week!’
‘Really?’ My heart lifted up like a helium balloon. ‘That’s awesome!’
Things were looking up.
That night at dinner, I entertained the table with the story of my lunchtime success.
‘So even though I didn’t set a world record,’ I finished up, ‘it was still the best day ever.’ Mum squeezed my hand across the table. ‘I’m so proud of you, Edie! It sounds like a wonderful project.’
‘Yes, good on you, Edie,’ said Dad. ‘What an environmentalist!’
‘Go, Dee-Dee!’ Max threw his hands in the air, almost upending his stir-fry.
‘Thanks,’ I said, swinging my legs under the table. ‘Anyway, it made me think . . .’
‘Yes?’ Mum raised an eyebrow.
‘Seeing as I did such a good job today –’
‘If you do say so yourself,’ Dad interjected with a wink.
I giggled. ‘Yes, well . . . maybe I could watch Ecowarriors tonight?’ I flashed them my best smile, and batted my eyelashes. ‘I know I still have five days without screen time, but I was hoping . . .’ It was a bit of a long shot, I knew. But Ecowarriors was the best TV show ever. It was worth a try.
But, to my surprise, Mum agreed straightaway. ‘I think that’s a fair suggestion, Edie,’ she said. ‘Maybe we can all watch it together? We could all do with a relax, I think.’ She nodded towards the pile of reports stacked by her handbag on the bench. ‘I’ll think about those tomorrow.’
‘Good plan,’ said Dad, jumping up to give Mum a shoulder rub. ‘We can have homemade brownies for dessert while we watch. I made some today when I got home from work.’ He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.
; ‘Yay! This is going to be the best night ever!’ I hopped up and gave Mum and Dad a kiss on the cheek before racing to the lounge room. I wanted to make sure the cushions were in the best TV watching configuration. And I needed to beat Max to the remote, so he couldn’t demand to watch Whirly Whoo Hoo (it was his favourite show, and, take it from me, it was not great).
It was the perfect way to end the perfect day.
I was so glad I got to watch Ecowarriors that night, because it was the best episode I’d ever seen. It was called ‘Rubbish Repurposed’, and they interviewed a man who’d built a house out of recycled bottles. A whole house!
It was almost as good as the episode where they made petrol out of compost juice, and it was just as inspirational. (Although, for future reference, the compost goes through a lot of processing before it’s ready to be used as petrol. Straight banana peels and apple cores do not have the same effect, and are quite expensive to remove from a car’s fuel tank.)
In fact, my newfound recycling knowledge came in handy the next day during science class.
It started when Mr Zhu strode around the room holding a funny-looking, upside-down metal bowl.
‘So, my young scientists,’ he said, his eyes twinkling. ‘Who can tell me what this is?’
The bowl had a whole bunch of odd-looking keys dangling from it, tied on to the edges with pieces of string. The keys jangled together as Mr Zhu carried it around the room.
Emily James, who has the quickest reaction time I’ve ever seen, shot her hand up in the air before I’d even had a chance to lift a finger off my desk.
‘Wind chimes, of course.’
‘That’s correct, Miss Emily.’ Mr Zhu beamed. I cocked my head to the side. Right, wind chimes. It made sense.
‘But what do you notice about these particular wind chimes?’ Mr Zhu continued, raising his eyebrows mysteriously.
‘They look weird?’ Riley suggested.
Mr Zhu chuckled. ‘Yes, that’s true. But something else, something to do with what they’re made of.’
How to Make Friends Page 5
