Science Fair (11 page)

“Toby?” said his mom. She switched on the light and saw him sitting at the dining-room table. “What are you doing sitting there in the dark?”

“Nothing,” said Toby.

There was a clunk as the window in Toby’s room closed.

“What was that?” said his dad.

“Nothing!” said Toby, leaping up.

“Are you al right?” said his mom.

“Yes,” said Toby. “No,” he added.

“Toby,” said his dad, “what’s going on? Is there someone in your room?”

“No!” said Toby.

“Are you sure?” said his dad, moving toward the hal way. “Because I definitely heard…”

“I got suspended from school,” said Toby.

“What?”
said both of his parents.

“It’s a mistake,” said Toby. “I didn’t do it.”

“Didn’t do what?” said his dad.

“Put the stuff in my locker.”

“Stuff in your locker?” said his dad.

“Drugs?” said his mom.
“Are you doing drugs?!”

“I’m not…”

“It’s those video games he plays,” said his father. “That’s where this started.”

“But it isn’t…”

“What kind of drugs was it?” said his mom. “Was it pot? Ohmigod, was it crack?”

“Crack? Mom, no!” said Toby.

“So it was pot,” she said.

“I didn’t mean that!” said Toby.

“It was STP, wasn’t it?” said his dad. “It’s showing up in middle schools. I heard about this on NPR.”

“You mean Ecstasy,” said Toby.

“Ohmigod,” said his mom, putting her hands over her mouth. “Ecstasy. Ohmigod.”

“No, no, no!” said Toby. “I’m just saying that’s the
name
. I’m not saying I’m
doing
it.”

“Then what was it doing in your locker?” said his dad.

“It wasn’t…”

“Who gave it to you?” said his mom.

“Nobody!” said Toby.

“Then how did you get it?” said his dad.

“You hear about this happening,” said his mom, breaking down sobbing. “But you never think it’s going to happen to you.”

“It’s okay, Fawn,” said his dad, putting his arms around her. “We’l get him help. And we’l get rid of those video games.”

“Listen!” said Toby. “Wil you just please LISTEN for a minute?”

His parents, arms around each other, looked at him.

“First,” said Toby, “there were no drugs in my locker, okay? No drugs.”

“Then why did you just say there were?” said his mom.

“I DIDN’T SAY THERE WERE!” said Toby.

“Don’t you shout at your mother!” said his dad.

Toby took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m sorry I shouted. I’m just trying to explain that they
didn’t find any drugs in my locker
. They found some green stuff. Some kind of chemical or something. They think I put it there, but I didn’t.”

“Then who did?” said his dad.

Toby considered tel ing his parents his suspicions about Mr. P, but he decided that, for the time being, he would rather not have his parents charging into the school and trying to help him but basical y just being weird while accomplishing nothing or managing to make things worse.

“I dunno,” he said. “But whoever it was left a note, supposedly written to me, that makes it look like the green stuff was part of a science-fair project that I’m supposedly buying.

They’re making it look like I’m cheating.”

“Are you?” said his dad.

“No! Of
course
I’m not!” said Toby.

“Then why are you suspended from school?” said his dad.

“It’s just for three days,” said Toby. “While The Hornet investigates.”

“The who?” said his dad.

“Principal Plotz-Gornett,” said Toby. “I’m sure she’l find out I’m innocent.” He also decided not to tel his parents about his plan to go back to the Science Nook for proof that the ME

kids were cheating.

“I think we need to speak to the principal,” said his mom.

“No!” said Toby. “Please! I’m sure it’l be fine. It’s just three days.”

His parents looked at each other.

“Go to the kitchen and set the table while we discuss this,” said his dad.

They cal ed him out a few minutes later. His dad said, “Your mother and I have decided that you’re going to be grounded during the suspension.”

“Grounded?” said Toby. “Why?”

“If you’re not at school, we want you here, studying,” said his dad.

“What about after school?”

“You’re stil grounded,” said his mom.

“But I didn’t
do
anything!” said Toby.

“Watch your tone, young man,” said his mom.

“And no video games,” said his dad.

Toby argued some more, but it was no use. Once his parents had made a decision, they stuck to it, no matter how irrational it was. Toby was grounded.

They ate dinner (tofu foo yong) in silence. Toby spent most of the meal trying to figure out how, if he was grounded, he was going to get to the Science Nook. When dinner was over, he trudged to his bedroom. When he turned on the light, he saw dirty footprints on the bedspread next to the window—a reminder that, in addition to being suspended and in danger of being expel ed, he was being stalked by a lunatic with a large, hairy assistant. He went to bed but spent the next hour and a half squirming restlessly, unable to stop his brain from thinking about his problems. But his thinking did no good: he came up with no answers.

The only consolation—and the last thought he had before he final y fel asleep—was this:
at least it can’t get any worse.

I
T TOOK DRMTSI AND VRSK
three days to travel from Krpshtskan to Washington, D.C.

They prepared for the journey in traditional Krpshtskani fashion by stuffing their pants legs with smerk, a very strong cheese that could be used as either food or wolf repel ent. For money, they had four bil s issued by the Krpshtskani treasury, each in the amount of one mil ion purds. The purd was the official currency unit of Krpshtskan; one mil ion purds, at the current exchange rate, was equal to about six dol ars. As a backup, they also had some gold coins in a leather pouch.

With their preparations complete, Drmtsi and Vrsk set off by oxcart for Grdankl the Strong International Airport.

This was a weedy dirt strip next to a smal , rundown wooden terminal building. On the side of the terminal was a sign in Krpsht that translated roughly to: AIR KRPSHTSKAN

“IT IS GOING UP, THEN IT IS COMING DOWN IN DIFFERENT PLACE”

Parked next to the terminal was the Air Krpshtskan fleet, which consisted of a lone Russian-made World War I -era cargo plane. A goat was chewing on the tail. Drmtsi and Vrsk found the Air Krpshtskan pilot asleep in the cockpit, surrounded by the littered remains of several meals. Drmtsi shook the pilot awake and ordered him to fly them to the neighboring nation of Fazul, which had a larger airport. The pilot shooed the goat away and managed to get both of the engines started. He gestured for Vrsk to sit on the floor behind him. Drmtsi, fourth vice president of Krpshtskan, sat on a folding chair, which represented business class.

The pilot taxied the plane to the end of the rutted runway and then, after offering a brief prayer, advanced both throttles to ful . The engines belched black smoke, and the plane lurched forward, causing the business-class chair to col apse, and sending Drmtsi tumbling backward. The plane gained speed, rattling violently. Vrsk got on his knees to look out the plane’s windshield and saw they were rapidly approaching the end of the runway, beyond which was a wooden fence. The pilot, shouting another prayer, pul ed back on the yoke. Slowly, the nose of the plane began to rise. They were taking off! The pilot turned, smiling hugely, and gave his passengers a thumbs-up gesture. At that moment there was a loud explosion, and something fel off the right-hand engine. The pilot struggled with the controls as the plane came back down, went off the end of the runway, and plowed through a fence, plunging into a field. It bounced along violently for a hundred yards, final y shuddering to a stop. With a shrieking sound of tearing metal, the right engine detached completely from the wing and fel to the ground with a
whump
. A goat wandered over to the plane and began chewing on the tail.

The pilot turned to look at his passengers, who were now both on the floor, their faces white.

“We are having slight mechanical delay,” he announced.

With the Air Krpshtskan leg of their journey over, Drmtsi and Vrsk traveled the rest of the way to Fazul by oxcart. In Fazul they used some of their gold to purchase tickets on Air Fazul (motto: “Very Reliable. Sometimes.”) to the Republic of Zerkistan. From there they flew Air Zerkistan (motto: “At Least It Is Safer Than Air Fazul.”) to Paris. The flight lasted eight hours, during which they were given nothing to eat except one stick, apiece, of Air Zerkistan chewing gum. Drmtsi attempted to eat his, but it was so hard that he cracked a tooth. Vrsk put his stick in his pocket for later.

In Paris, Drmtsi and Vrsk were required, for the first time, to produce passports. Solemnly, they handed their documents to the French immigration official. These were not actual y passports: Krpshtskan did not produce passports. Before they left, Drmtsi and Vrsk had gone into the government files and grabbed two official-looking pieces of paper. Drmtsi’s was a 1937 wedding license. Vrsk’s was a 1993 bil , unpaid, from a plumber who had unclogged the presidential palace toilet.

The French official frowned at these documents, then said something in French. Neither Drmtsi nor Vrsk spoke French. Vrsk, who had learned some English from the Internet, said,

“Can you say in English, please?”

The French official sighed. “These passports,” he said, “do not have pictures.”

Vrsk translated this to Drmtsi, who replied, in Krpshtskani, “Why does he need pictures? We are standing in front of him! He can see us! Tel him he is stupid moron idiot with brain of salamander.”

Vrsk translated this as: “Our country is very poor. We have no camera for picture.”

“What is the purpose of your trip?” said the French official.

Vrsk translated this to Drmtsi, who replied, “Tel him we are on important secret mission that is none of his business.” Vrsk translated this as: “We are tourists.”

The French official frowned at the documents some more, then said, “Your final destination is the United States?” Vrsk translated this to Drmtsi, who said, “Tel stupid moron idiot if he asks any more stupid questions I feed his tiny idiot brain to pigs.” Vrsk translated this as: “Yes.”

The French official frowned at the documents some more, looked at the growing line behind Drmtsi and Vrsk, sighed, then waved them through for the Americans to deal with.

Eleven hours later, Drmtsi and Vrsk, tired and hungry and smel ing strongly of smerk, arrived at Dul es Airport outside of Washington. They shuffled along in a long line of people waiting to pass through immigration. When they reached the front, the immigration agent took one look at their documents and cal ed for his supervisor. His supervisor, a woman named Wanda Lefkon, took them to a holding room for questioning.

“So, Mr.…Vrsk is it?” she said, frowning at Vrsk’s plumbing bil .

“Yes, Vrsk,” said Vrsk. “And this is Fourth Vice President Drmtsi. He is brother of Grdankl the Strong, president of Krpshtskan. He is very important man.” Lefkon looked at Drmtsi.

“Hal e Berry,” said Drmtsi, this being one of the very few things he could say in English.

“Excuse me?” said Lefkon.

“He is big fan,” Vrsk said. “She is from here, yes? Hal e Berry?”

“Yes,” said Lefkon. “Now…”

“Catwoman,” said Drmtsi.

“Right,” said Lefkon. She rubbed her temples. “And you came from Kpr…Krt…”

“Krpshtskan,” said Vrsk.

“Right, you came from there to here for what purpose?”

“Touristism,” said Vrsk. “We are tourists.”

“I see,” said Lefkon. “And are there any particular sights you’re planning to see?”

Vrsk thought about this. “No,” he said.

Lefkon rubbed her temples again. The smal room was starting to fil with an unpleasant aroma. As she watched in horror, Drmtsi reached into his pants and pul ed out a greenish blob that smel ed like a ful Dumpster on a hot day. He thrust this toward Lefkon.

“Smerk?” he said.

“Is tradition,” said Vrsk.

“No, thank you,” said Lefkon. “Please wait here.”

Lefkon spent the next several hours on the phone with officials at the State Department, the CIA, the FBI, and the Department of Homeland Security. Eventual y it was determined that Drmtsi was, in fact, the fourth vice president of Krpshtskan, and that he and Vrsk would be admitted to the United States as diplomats. But it was also agreed that, because so little was known about Krpshtskan, and because the two men were so vague about the purpose of their visit, their activities would be closely monitored.

It was late afternoon when Drmtsi and Vrsk left the airport. They went to the taxi line, waited their turn, and got into a cab. The driver got one whiff of his passengers and immediately rol ed down al four windows.

“We go to Hubble Middle School, please,” said Vrsk.

“Where’s that?” said the driver.

“Is near to Washington,” said Vrsk.

“A lot of things are near Washington,” said the driver.