Brendan Buckley's Sixth-Grade Experiment (20 page)

“Oh?” Mom was trying to sound casual, I could tell. “Well, he
is
a great kid.” Mom looked over her shoulder and smiled.

I rolled my eyes. Morgan's face had gone all gooey, like one of Grandpa Ed's maple donuts. I got seriously interested in the hummus and carrot sticks.

“How does your mom like her new job?” Mom asked.

I interrupted. “We should probably get to work.”

Morgan acted as if she hadn't even heard me. “She loves it. She's taking me out on her research vessel the first weekend in December. I am
so
excited!”

“That sounds like fun,” Mom said.

Geesh
. Had Morgan come over to finish our report or to talk to my mom? “Hey, do you want to see Einstein?” Maybe
I
couldn't get Morgan's attention, but my anole surely would.

“Actually, I was wondering if you'd let Brendan come with us.” Morgan looked at me. “I mean, if you want to.”

My stomach flipped.

Morgan's gaze returned to Mom, which was a good thing because I was about to pass out. Morgan wanted me to stay with her, on a boat,
for a whole weekend
? And I'd thought pizza with my family on a Saturday night was a big deal!

“Go with you?” Mom asked.

Morgan nodded. “Yes. On the boat.”

Mom glanced to where I stood stiffly in the doorway. “That sounds like a pretty big imposition on your mom while she's trying to do her job.”

“She already said it was okay. Believe me, she'll put us to work. ‘Academic enrichment,' she calls it. She loves teaching. She taught science for our homeschool group—that was seven kids. Two of us will be a piece of cake.”

“Is that something you'd like to do, Bren?” Mom looked at me again.

Uhh, yeah!
I pulled my lips down, shrugged, and nodded, playing it cool.

“Mom loves what we've been doing with our science project. She thinks Brendan is brilliant.” Morgan glanced my way, then looked at her hands.

I buzzed from head to toe. I crossed my arms tightly and tried not to let the chain reaction that had been set off in my body show.

“Well, I'll talk to Brendan's dad, and I'd like to talk to your mom about it, too.”

“No problem!” Morgan flashed her big smile again.
Her
nice
, big smile. She turned to me. “Ready to finish our report?”

I was and I wasn't. The whole time we sat in front of my computer (after I'd ducked into the bathroom to scrub off the cologne), all I could think about was me and Morgan on a boat, being scientists, together.

On Monday, Mr. Hammond had reserved the computer lab during third period for our science class. We spent the hour filling out the online application, attaching our various photo and video files, and submitting our projects for consideration for the grand prize of five thousand dollars.

“We should know who the finalists are by early next month,” Mr. H told the class.

I was confident Morgan's and my entry could win something, in spite of the big poo-poo-palooza in my basement. We had submitted a really good report based on our findings, with lots of practical ideas for methane collection and recycling that would definitely make the world a better place. That could
save
the world, really. I just hoped the judges would agree.

Finally, the big weekend for the marine expedition arrived, except I would only be on the boat for the day. Dad didn't want me sleeping over with a girl.

I'd wanted to tell him it was a
research vessel
, not
some romantic cruise, but I kept my mouth shut. One day was better than nothing. Morgan's mom was willing to come back in just to drop me off at the pier, which made me feel sort of embarrassed, but I wasn't about to turn down the offer.

In the car on our way to the marina, Dad asked how school was going.

“Good,” I said.

“Older kids giving you any problems?”

“Nah,” I said. We passed the Tae Kwon Do studio.

Dad spoke again. “Everything all right with Khalfani?”

I felt as if I'd been injected with cola. I fizzed from head to toe.
Not really
, I thought.

Khal's nose was back to normal, but our friendship sure wasn't. I'd tried to apologize to his face a couple of times. The second time, he just said, “Forget it, man,” but if he really meant it, then why didn't he ever want to be my sparring partner at Tae Kwon Do anymore? Why hadn't we gone trick-or-treating together? And why, when he'd shot off his launcher with Dwight David, had he invited Oscar and Marcus but not me?

I had no idea how to make things right with Khal, and even less of an idea how to talk about it with my dad, so I just said, “Yeah,” and nodded my head. “Everything's fine.”

We pulled up at a stoplight. “He hasn't been around much lately.”

“Neither have you.” I hadn't meant it to come out so strong. I sat stiffly, worried I'd crossed the line into backtalk territory.

The car rolled forward again. Dad kept his eyes straight ahead. “I've been tied up, I know. But I'll get a break over Christmas. We'll spend more time together then. All right?”

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and nodded, but I wanted to say I wished he'd never gone back to school. I wanted to say I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep going in Tae Kwon Do.

I
wanted
to ask why he had never shown any interest in our methane experiment or the science competition.

But I didn't.

Dad and I walked the pier at Dock Street Marina. Even if somehow I couldn't find a sixty-five-foot research vessel named
Olympus
, I knew I'd be able to spot Morgan's huge smile a hundred yards away.

I was buzzing with excitement—mostly about getting on the boat, but honestly, a lot of me was looking forward to spending the day with Morgan. This time I'd skipped the cologne, though.

My duffel bag bumped against my hip. I had packed my Tacoma Rainiers cap, a sack lunch, sunglasses, and an extra pair of shoes, which Mom had made me bring in case my sneakers got wet. And, of course, I had brought
my logbook. I knew a lot of kids kept their writing on their computers, in digital diaries and online folders. But a real notebook, made of real paper—that was the way for me, just like scientists had been doing for decades. Plus, I couldn't exactly have lugged my desktop PC onto the
Olympus
.

“Be sure to do everything you're asked,” Dad said.

“Okay.”

“Show respect.”

I nodded. We walked in silence for several paces.

“So, you like this girl?”

“Morgan?”

“Mm-hmm. Do you like her?”

I swallowed. It felt as if a test tube were going down my throat sideways. My palm felt moist against the strap of my bag.

“I'll take that as a yes.”

We kept our faces forward, still walking.

“I—I like her okay.”

Dad's eyebrow rose. A couple of nights ago, he'd come into my room and handed me a book called
What's Going On Down There?
It wasn't hard to figure out what it was about.

Sitting there, staring at the book, I'd felt as though I'd shrunk to the size of my green anole, and a basking lamp with too much wattage was cooking me.

“Let me know if you have any questions,” Dad had said before heading out the door.

I'd read the thing cover to cover and I had
plenty
of questions, but I'd chosen just to write them in my logbook. I could seek out answers later.

My eyes scanned the marina. I was about to say there was nothing to worry about—Morgan and I were just science partners—when I spotted the boat moored at the end of a dock. Morgan jumped onto the pier from the boat's deck. “Hi, Brendan! Hi, Mr. Buckley!”

Dr. Belcher followed close behind. She and Dad shook hands. “I don't think we've ever officially met. I'm Meg Belcher, Morgan's mom.” I was surprised by how pretty she was. Taller than my mom, for sure, because she was taller than me, with long, wavy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and wide-set brown eyes—exactly like Morgan's.

“Sam Buckley. Glad to meet you.”

“You as well. Ready to join our crew, Brendan?”

“Aye, aye, Captain!”

“Oh, no.” Dr. Belcher shook her hands in front of her. “That would be that man over there. Captain Dennis!”

An older man wearing a fisherman's hat and spraying a hose on deck waved.

“I presume you're outfitted with life preservers and rafts,” Dad said.

“Survival suits … the whole nine yards,” Dr. Belcher replied. “We'll do a safety demo for Brendan before we take off. And we've got two radios—one dedicated to
channel sixteen for emergencies. The Coast Guard is just a call away. Your department has a boat, too, doesn't it?”

“We do.”

“I thought I'd seen a Tacoma PD boat trolling the bay. Be assured, our captain has been piloting this vessel for thirty years—first as a commercial fisherman and now for us. He's a pro.” Dr. Belcher looked up at the cloudless sky. “I think this past week's rain went away just for us. So, what do you say we get to it?” She climbed on board. “We'll have Brendan back around four this afternoon. Sound good?”

“That's fine.” Dad raised his eyebrows at me. “You good?”

I nodded. I was
more
than good.

He slapped me on the back and I followed Morgan onto the boat.

A two-story enclosure sat at the bow of the boat. The only way to the second level appeared to be metal rungs, which led to the door of what I guessed was the cockpit, or whatever it was called on a boat. I'd have to find out. Captain Dennis had disappeared into there a minute ago.

Another ladder, directly across from where I stood, led to an upper deck—a narrow strip outfitted with a bench. Below that, on the main deck, was a sink area with a long metal countertop.

The deck was mostly a wide-open space, but with lots of stuff—I presumed research stuff—sitting around.
Hoses and tethered ropes hung everywhere. Large metal hatches made me wonder what was down below. Three large spools of different types of cable lay anchored on their sides, and there was something that looked like a Mars rover but with jets instead of wheels. “That's the ROV,” Morgan said. “Remotely operated vehicle. Suzanne is awesome at maneuvering it.”

A stocky, middle-aged woman wearing rubber overalls and boots appeared in the doorway of the enclosure's lower level. Her cheeks looked sunburned. “I'm pretty darn good at Super Mario World, too.” She went to the side of the boat and pulled in the ropes keeping us tied to the dock.

During the orientation and safety demonstration, I learned that the left side of the boat as you face the front is the port side; the right side is called starboard. Kevin, the grad assistant doing the demo, told me the names came from early European explorers who sailed their ships around the coast of Africa. The left of the boat was the side closest to the ports as they traveled, and the right was the side from which they navigated by the stars. I would definitely record that in my logbook later.