Parker Bell and the Science of Friendship

by Cynthia Platt

  Parker wasn’t going to be an award-winning scientist like Jane and Mae. Instead, she had built a robot that didn’t work. And she’d let her friends down at the same time. In the end, Mr. Jones in maintenance had to come and give them screwdrivers and pliers to take the talking guinea pig apart. With a sad whirring sound, the squeaking finally stopped. On the other side of the auditorium, Parker could see Aidan, and even Braidan and Jaidan, comforting their chicken and little chick. They were all being really sweet and gentle with the birds.

  The only sounds left in the auditorium at Eleanor Roosevelt Elementary School were the last snickers of their fellow students, who’d thought the whole thing had been very, very funny.

  Finally, Ms. Garcia cleared her throat at the front of the auditorium and raised her three fingers, the school signal for silence. Everyone, even the kindergartners, went quiet.

  “Well, those were certainly more eventful Animal Adaptation Presentations than I thought they would be,” she said.

  Parents chuckled at the back of the room. Everyone was laughing at Parker and Cassie and Theo.

  “Our Triathlon students did so much hard work over the past few weeks,” Ms. Garcia continued, “with their Animal Adaptation Presentations today, and also the Science Bee and their Egg Drop designs.”

  The crowd politely clapped, but Parker knew they weren’t really clapping for her team. Parker, Cassie, and Theo had done so well in the Science Bee, but everything had been a mess with the Egg Drop. They had needed this presentation to win the Triathlon, and instead they had blown it. And it wasn’t like her whole team had blown it together: Parker had blown it for them by insisting they make guinea pig robots and then by making a squeaking one that didn’t work right.

  “Principal Warren has made her final decision about the awards, so let’s announce them and get this finished up,” Ms. Garcia said. “I mean, let’s celebrate everybody’s efforts in the name of science!”

  Principal Warren came to the front of the room with three sets of medals: gold, silver, and bronze. This was it. The big moment Parker had been waiting three long weeks for.

  “In third place,” Principal Warren said, “for artistic work and scientific knowledge, are Aidan, Jaidan, and Braidan Dempsey!”

  Jaidan and Braidan were busy snuggling their chicken, so Aidan went up to get their medals. This seemed only fair since he was the one who’d done all the work anyway.

  Parker smiled at him as he sat down again. “Good job,” she mouthed to him. Aidan grinned at her.

  “And in second place,” Principal Warren continued, “for scientific ingenuity and some very ambitious robotics, we have Parker Bell, Cassie Malouf, and Theo Zachary!”

  Parker couldn’t believe they got second place. Second wasn’t bad, of course. But her team probably would have won gold if it wasn’t for her.

  Cassie nudged her. “Come on, let’s get our medals!” she said.

  Parker got up slowly from her seat and accepted her silver medal. She was relieved that they’d still gotten medals, but second place wasn’t the achievement she had imagined when she signed up for the Triathlon. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling anymore. Disappointed they didn’t win gold? Afraid her friends would be mad at her for messing up their presentation? Even a little admiration for Aidan, who seemed to have gotten a bronze medal without any help at all from his fellow triplets?

  In the end, the monarch butterfly girls from Mr. Tanner’s class won first place. Parker couldn’t really argue with the choice. They’d done a lot of research and made an amazing display, and they had done a great job on the other events. What had Parker made? A mess of everything.

  Parker slumped into her chair. While Cassie usually never got mad at Parker, this might be the one time she did. And Parker was sure Theo was mad at her too. After all, she was the one who’d shot down the ideas for both monarchs and chickens. Parker thought back to second grade when she and Theo had been science partners. Sure, Theo had wrecked their sink-or-float experiment. But Parker had wrecked the entire Science Triathlon, which was a much bigger deal.

  The Science Triathlon, like her friendship experiment, had not yielded the results she’d thought it would.

  Chapter 14

  Always a Silver Lining

  Cassie’s family and Theo’s dad agreed to come back to the bakery for a postpresentation treat. When she got there, Parker went upstairs to change. The leopard-print dress that she had been so happy to wear that morning went straight into the laundry. There was no use dressing like a fierce animal if you weren’t going to act like one.

  The green skirt and top she changed into made her look more like a plant than an animal, and her sneakers were the most boring shoes ever.

  Parker was feeling very blah.

  When she went downstairs, the sound of talking and laughing hit her ears. Theo’s dad was chatting with Cassie’s parents and Parker’s mom. Theo and Cassie had the poop-eating and running robotic guinea pigs out on the table where they were sitting. Parker was surprised to see the Dempsey Triplets sitting in a corner of the bakery with their dad.

  Parker’s own dad was putting out a tray full of cookies he’d set aside for them earlier in the day. “To celebrate your great work in the Science Triathlon,” he told her.

  Parker wasn’t sure what there was to celebrate.

  She went to sit with Cassie and Theo and picked at her chocolate chip cookie. She was too anxious to enjoy it the way she usually did. She felt like the old mouse bones in the owl poop she’d dissected last summer at science camp: dried up, cracked up, and just plain bad.

  “What’s wrong?” Theo asked. “I thought you’d be happy that we won second place.”

  “She wanted a gold medal in science,” Cassie explained. “So she could be like Jane Goodall and Mae Jemison.”

  Parker took a deep breath. “I did,” she admitted. “But silver’s okay too.” Then she looked at her friends. “At least, it would be if I hadn’t made us lose the gold.”

  Theo and Cassie gave each other strange looks.

  “How did you make us lose the gold?” Cassie asked.

  “The squeaking robot!” Parker said. “If I hadn’t messed up the voice recorder, we would have won.”

  “I don’t know,” Cassie said. “Our project was still way scientific.”

  “And if we’d only made a poster for one of our other ideas, we might not have won anything,” Theo added.

  “Plus, good science doesn’t always go the way you think it’s going to,” Cassie put in.

  Parker took a minute to let that sink in. Jane Goodall hadn’t started off being a world-famous chimpanzee expert after all, had she? It had taken lots of time observing and trying out strategies on how to work with the animals so that they trusted her. And it had taken Mae Jemison years to become a doctor, not to mention all the hard work she’d had to do to become an astronaut.

  Even if her team hadn’t won the Science Triathlon, Parker could still work toward being the very best scientist she could be.

  After all, her experiment with Theo hadn’t exactly gotten the results she’d anticipated. Sure, he was talking more. And he wasn’t trying to steal Cassie from her. But Parker still wasn’t sure if he wanted to be her friend.

  “So you’re not mad at me?” Parker asked.

  Theo let out a little laugh. “No,” he said. “I thought maybe you were mad at me, though.”

  “Because of the presentation?” Parker asked. “Why would I be mad about that? I’m the one who messed up.”

  “No, about the sink-or-float experiment in second grade,” he told her. “You’ve kind of seemed mad at me ever since that day.”

  Parker wasn’t sure what to say. She had definitely been mad at the time, but not anymore. Not for ages. Suddenly, Theo not talking to her was making a lot more sense.

  “No way,” she told Theo. “I’m not mad at you at all. And I’m . . . I’m glad we were a team for the Triathlon.”

  “And made the best guin
ea pig robots ever,” Theo said.

  “Plus, I thought we slayed the Animal Adaptation Presentation,” Cassie added. “The squeaking was amazing.”

  Just as Parker was back to feeling like her usual great self again, someone tapped her shoulder. She slumped in her chair. The only person who ever poked at her was Jaidan, and she really hoped he wasn’t coming to tease her.

  She turned to tell Jaidan to bug off, but Aidan was standing there instead.

  “Your robots were fierce,” he said. “Were they hard to build?”

  “Yes!” Parker and Cassie and Theo all said at the same time.

  “I’ve never built a robot before,” Aidan said. He looked down at the floor and turned a little bit red, just like Theo used to.

  “Maybe you could help us with the next one we build?” Parker said to him.

  Aidan turned even redder, but he smiled, too.

  Parker was up for the idea. If Aidan could turn out to be a top-rate scientist, he might be a top-rate friend, too. Theo had, and Parker hadn’t expected that at all!

  Then, out of nowhere, Ms. Garcia came to their table. She was carrying a coffee cup and a to-go bag of bakery treats.

  “Nice job with the chickens and the robot rodents,” she told the group. “Even if things got a little out of control for a while.”

  Sure, Parker’s friends weren’t angry at her . . . but maybe Ms. Garcia was? It was as if a dark cumulonimbus cloud had come to hail all over Parker’s day again.

  “Seeing as you three are so good at building robots, I was wondering if you’d want to start a robotics club,” Ms. Garcia said.

  Suddenly the cumulonimbus cleared.

  “A robotics club?” Parker repeated.

  “Yes—you could put up flyers,” Ms. Garcia said. “And meet in our classroom after school to help other students learn to build robots. Does that sound good?”

  Parker wasn’t in any clubs, but she wanted to be.

  “Amazing!” Parker said.

  “Extra-super great!” Cassie said.

  “Fierce!” Theo added.

  “I’ll be your first member,” Aidan said as he walked back to his brothers.

  Parker and Cassie and Theo all grinned.

  They were going to have their very own robotics club at school! Plus, Parker was going to get to run it with her two friends. And Aidan would be in it too. This was going to be the best thing ever.

  Parker held out one hand to Cassie. She held the other out to Theo. For the first time ever, Theo locked knuckles with her. They danced their fingers around and burst out laughing.

  All in one day, Parker had become an award-winning scientist (a silver medal was still an award!), got to start a robotics club, and was now maybe-kind-of-sort-of friends with Aidan and BFFs with Theo and Cassie. Maybe she could finally explain to Theo that he’d stolen her and Cassie’s seat on the bus? Or maybe it didn’t matter that much if she and Cassie sat in the fifth seat on the left. Or maybe she could make a chart so they could all take turns sitting in the sixth seat on the left.

  Parker loved making charts.

  She already had plans swirling in her head for their new club.

  Parker sat with her friends thinking about robots and cookies. She was going to wear her silver medal and eat as many chocolate chip cookies as she possibly could. Cookies today, crickets tomorrow. Or in a few weeks when she launched a whole new experiment on eating bugs. Because Parker had big scientific plans, and her fellow mad scientists to help her put those plans into action.

  one

  “LOOK, MADELINE.” Brooke holds up a pair of weird scissors. “For your nose hairs,” she says, about three times louder than necessary.

  I yank them out of her hand and throw them back onto the pile of junk. “You’re such a newborn,” I say. Who’s going to buy a pair of used nose-hair clippers? I lean over and write FREE on the tag, then reach for a silvery, rusted contraption with a one-fingered handle. One of Grandpa’s secret scientific instruments? It squeaks as I open and close it.

  “It’s an eyelash curler, dummy.”

  I toss it back onto the folding table set up in Grandpa’s living room. What in the world was my famous scientist grandfather doing with an eyelash curler?

  “I’m not a dummy.” Even though I’m the younger sister, I’m the one who inherited all the family genius. I point to a cracked bowl. “If you’re so smart, what’s this?”

  Brooke smiles. “Fingernail bath. Do I have to teach you everything?”

  “It’s called a crucible. For science experiments,” I say, tightening my ponytail. “Can you say cah-ru-ci-ble?”

  “This is boring. I’m going outside with Dad.” Brooke flounces out the door to the patio tables for sale in the front yard.

  I rifle through the stuff on the table one more time, just to make sure I haven’t missed something. My plastic bag is already bulging with Grandpa’s unused Eppendorf tubes and an ancient-looking tong that was probably instrumental in at least one of his scientific discoveries. From underneath an old magazine I grab a timer that looks like an amoeba and then take my seat behind the table, watching strangers walk in and out of Grandpa’s house.

  I can’t get used to the idea of this estate sale. All these people, touching all of Grandpa’s stuff, pulling things off shelves, dismantling beds and carrying them off to who knows where. Probably a good thing Grandpa’s not alive to see this.

  My stomach throbs.

  “Does this still work?” A girl stands in front of me, wearing a shirt that says e=mc2.

  I can’t believe what she’s holding in her hand. “Where’d you get that? Not for sale,” I say, taking the gold clock away from her. She probably took it right off Grandpa’s desk, the little thief. It even has his name on the base from when he retired: DR. LEONARD LITTLE, BIOCHEMIST. There’s no way Dad would sell this, right?

  She’s holding a bag of gummy bears in her other hand, and now she’s looking over the table and pushing things around. Her fingers are probably sticky.

  I stand up. “Most of these things are not for sale, actually.” I don’t know what I’m saying. I look over my shoulder at Mom, who is busy picking through Grandpa’s books by the fireplace.

  “Really?” The girl stops chewing. “Even these things with price tags?”

  “Two-minute rule,” I say, starting my amoeba timer. “Two minutes to look around, and that’s it. You know, for sanitary reasons.”

  The girl laughs like I’m making a joke, and I want to push the whole table over.

  “I’m Riley,” she says. “We just moved here. Gummy bear?” She has a whole armful of bracelets that clink as she holds out the bag. I shake my head. She holds up a plastic beaker with a burn hole in the bottom. “Okay. I’ll just buy this, then. Need it for my experiments.”

  “Making a volcano?” Because all kids who think they’re scientists make volcanoes and collect rocks, two very unscientific things. I’ve never collected a rock in my whole life.

  “No volcano. I’m really good at experiments,” she says. “I love space, too. I just got back from Space Camp.”

  “The real Space Camp?” The one I’ve begged to go to for my entire existence?

  She pops another gummy bear into her mouth. “Of course. I’m going to be an astronaut.” This girl sure knows how to brag.

  “My birthday is on Astronomy Day this year.” I’m blinking way too fast. I take a breath and see she’s still holding Grandpa’s beaker. “Well, that’ll be one thousand dollars.”

  “It says ten cents.” She points at the price tag.

  Mom and Dad are going to notice I’m not selling anything. That I keep putting things in my own bag. Even though I already have a science collection pouring out of my closet and creeping out from under my bed.

  “It’s like ten cents times ten thousand, actually.”

  More people are filtering into the house now. Through the open front door I can see shoppers outside trying out the camping chairs and dipping their hands in
the fountain that’s for sale. Brooke’s best friend is there, and I wonder where my own best friend is. Or maybe Elizabeth’s too busy with her new fancy summer reading list for her new fancy private school, New Hope. It will be my first day at plain old Jasper Johns Middle School tomorrow. Home of the Mighty Barn Owls. Hoot! Hoot!

  My stomach has gone from throbbing to churning. Riley is still staring at me. “Are you all right?” she says.

  I fan myself with a Scientist Today magazine, trying to breathe the fresh air coming in through the front door. One of Grandpa’s standard operating procedures is still taped to the old wall phone nearby.

  How to Call Your Son.

  Step 1. Pick up the receiver, which is the blue handle-looking thing with a spirally cord.

  Step 2. Dial 5-5-5-0-2-0-4 in that exact order.

  Step 3. Tell your son to buy his daughter a telescope.

  (I wrote that last step.)

  If anyone needs a standard operating procedure right now, it’s me. I make up my own SOP in my head: How to Get Rid of Someone.

  Step 1. Casually mention a horrifying and terrible disease.

  “We just got back from South Africa,” I say, straightening up and folding my arms across my chest. “Really sad about that bubonic plague there.”

  “South Africa doesn’t have the plague,” she says. “Nobody does.”

  “It kills just about everyone. We were probably exposed.”

  Step 2. Cough loudly. Do not cover your mouth.

  Mom is over by the fireplace. “You okay, Madeline?”

  Step 3. Excuse yourself to the hospital.

  “It’s like the most contagious disease on record. Maybe I should go to the emergency room.” I cough again.

  Riley looks unconvinced. “If you really had the bubonic plague, your body parts would start turning black, and you’d have red bumps all over you.” She puts the beaker on the table.

  Red. Like blood. My blood is actually feeling too hot, filling my fingertips and pulsing in my ears.