Science Fair (6 page)

The sound of the train broke Officer Broyle’s concentration. He looked up and saw a boy standing by the tracks on the other side.

“Hey!” he shouted. He yanked the door handle and started to climb out, at the same time tossing the sweater aside, knowing that this action could very wel cost him an entire row of critical stitches. “HEY!” he repeated, his voice drowned out by the train.

The Wookiee, stil holding Toby’s backpack, crashed through the bushes and up the embankment. He roared in rage: the train was rumbling past, blocking him from fol owing the boy.

He stood next to the tracks, his face only a few feet from the freight cars, ready to dash across as soon as the train passed. He waited impatiently until he saw the green caboose approaching and then final y passing him. As it did, he ran around behind it…directly into the arms of Officer Lucius Broyle.

Toby, crouched in the bushes a few yards away, watched the Wookiee run into the policeman, the two of them almost fal ing over. There fol owed a heated exchange, in which the officer demanded to know where the boy was, while the Wookiee pointed out that he was clearly
not
a boy, and since when was it against the law to cross railroad tracks?

While they argued, Toby crept through the bushes until he was far enough away to dart across the tracks unseen. He hurried down the other side of the embankment and up the street to the Looper Avenue overpass, a concrete bridge that spanned State Highway 9. He was halfway across when something yel ow flashed in the corner of his eye: the Gremlin. He glanced over and found himself looking at Darth, who was driving very slowly, keeping pace with Toby’s trot, his passenger-side window cranked down. Toby looked back at the road and resumed trotting.

“You owe me a refund,” said Darth, in a voice that Toby realized, with horror, actual y
sounded
like Vader’s—deep and creepy. Toby took another glance and saw that the guy had some kind of black box, with a knob and switches, strapped to his mouth.

“Do not,” Toby panted. The end of the overpass was only twenty yards ahead. Once clear, he could drop down the embankment and escape this lunatic.

“The autograph is a fake,” said Darth.

“No, it’s not,” panted Toby. “My father got that at the premiere. He saw Harrison Ford sign it, in person.”

“Your father is a
liar
,” said Darth, jerking his head so angrily that he bumped the knob on his black box, changing the setting from Lord of the Dark Side to Chipmunk.

“You owe me $2,038,” he said, sounding like Chip, or possibly Dale. Quickly he readjusted the knob back to Darth. “And you’re going to give it to me,” he said, “or you and your family wil pay.”

“But I can’t…” Toby said.

“You WILL pay me!” said Darth, stomping on the accelerator, which, in the case of the Gremlin, mainly resulted in backfiring accompanied by a slight increase in speed. Toby stopped and caught his breath as he watched it disappear up the street.

He started walking, considering his plight. He had two maniacs chasing him; one of them had his backpack. The only way to get rid of the maniacs was to pay them a ton of money, and the only way to get that was to win the science fair. And he had no project yet. And his new white sneakers were dark brown and smel ed like a toilet. Other than that, things were going great.

Toby reached the end of the overpass, turned down the embankment, and began trudging toward the mal .

W
ANDERING OAKS MALL
was considered to be one of the three or four most upscale mals in the Bethesda, Maryland, area. It had al of the major high-end department stores, including a Bergstram’s, a Wentmickler’s, a Plock & Hingle, a Frempner’s, a Winkle & Curd, and a Storkbutters. Surrounding these retail giants were hundreds of smal er stores sel ing hundreds of thousands of upscale products that nobody actual y needed. There was a store that sold just corkscrews (it was cal ed Just Corkscrews) and two stores devoted entirely to fragrant little soaps shaped like animals.

Almost al of these stores were clean, brightly lit, and welcoming, with attractive, ever-changing merchandise displays. The lone exception was the Science Nook. It was at the far end of the highest concourse, and it violated many of the Wandering Oaks tenant rules. It was open at odd hours, and some days it did not open at al . It was dimly lit and often emitted strange sounds and odors. The display window contained a bizarre col ection of apparently random objects—a snorkel mask, a toilet plunger, a Hel o Kitty vanity mirror, a spatula, and many deceased insects. The proprietor and sole staff member was a man named Neal Sternabite, who was never seen without sunglasses, and whose hair appeared to have been styled by crazed squirrels.

The store attracted little business; its customer base consisted of eccentric experimenters and science enthusiasts, many of them as odd as Sternabite himself. He tolerated the regulars but was general y rude to unsuspecting shoppers who wandered in. He disliked answering what he considered to be stupid questions—this meant most questions—and he routinely ordered shoppers who annoyed him to leave the store. He once threw his lunch (the number-six lunch platter from the House of China restaurant in the Wandering Oaks food court) at a man who attempted to return what he claimed was a defective circuit board.

“The BOARD is not defective,” yel ed Sternabite, as the man ran from the store with kung pao chicken dripping down his shirt. “YOU are defective!” Many people wondered how the Science Nook was al owed to remain at Wandering Oaks. In fact, the mal had tried to evict Sternabite several years earlier. The mal manager, a man named Dwight Craven, delivered the eviction letter to Sternabite personal y. Sternabite read it, then handed it back to Craven and said, “You don’t want to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” said Craven.

“Al right,” said Sternabite. Immediately the electricity went out in Wandering Oaks Mal . Al the concourses and stores went dark; the air-conditioning system shut down; al the stores’ computer screens went blank. Even the phones stopped working.

Except in the Science Nook. The lights stayed on there.

Craven looked out at the suddenly dark mal , heard the shouts of alarm from shoppers and the cries of fear from children. He turned back to Sternabite.

“What did you do?” he said.

“How could I do anything?” said Sternabite. “I’m standing here talking to you.”

“We’re not finished,” said Craven, walking quickly from the store to deal with the emergency.

“No,” said Sternabite, “we’re not.”

For the rest of that day, and al of the next day, engineers for the electric and telephone companies tried to restore power to the mal . They checked every connection and ran every test; the found nothing wrong. Yet the mal —except for the Science Nook—remained dark.

“We’ve never seen anything like this,” one of the engineers told Craven. “It’s almost like there’s some kind of…
force field
in the mal , interfering with the grid. But of course that’s impossible.”

“Of course,” said Craven.

On the third powerless day, with the mal stores losing smal fortunes and threatening large lawsuits, Craven went to the Science Nook, where he found Sternabite sitting behind the counter, sunglasses on, reading a Stephen King novel.

“Turn the electricity back on,” said Craven.

“How can I do that?” said Sternabite.

“I don’t know,” said Craven. “But if you do, I’l tear up the eviction letter.”

“You could write another letter,” said Sternabite.

“I promise I won’t,” said Craven.

“You’d better not,” said Sternabite.

And the lights came back on.

Craven turned and looked, blinking, at his once-again bril iant mal . He turned back and looked at Sternabite, who had not, as far as Craven could tel , moved a muscle. Without a word, Craven walked quickly out of the Science Nook. He had never gone back in.

So the Science Nook stayed in business, serving its smal , weird clientele. But once a year, at science-fair time, business improved as students from Hubble Middle showed up, lured by the rumor that the Science Nook sold things that were unavailable elsewhere—things that could be used to make a science-fair project that the judges would notice.

On this particular afternoon, the first students to arrive were Micah, who was carrying a Tupperware container, and Tamara. When they arrived, the Science Nook appeared to be empty. They looked around the store for a minute, but there was little to see other than cardboard boxes scattered around the floor, some empty, some containing electrical components, and one fil ed with what appeared to be eggplants. Also, in a back corner of the store on a battered wooden cabinet, was a large stuffed owl.

“Do you think he’s here?” said Micah.

“He must be,” said Tamara. “The store’s open.”

“Maybe he’s in the back,” said Micah. He wandered over to the counter and saw a row of four buttons.

“There’s some buttons here,” he said. “Maybe one’s a buzzer.”

“Try it,” said Tamara.

Micah pushed a button. Nothing happened. He pushed another. Nothing. He pushed a third. Instantly there was a loud
BANG
, as one of the eggplants exploded, sending eggplant innards al over the store, some clinging to the wal s and ceiling. The rest of the eggplants were hurled out of the now-destroyed box and landed al around the store. As Tamara and Micah stood frozen, a door opened, and Sternabite came out of the back room.

“I’m sorry!” said Micah. “I didn’t know…”

“Which button did you push?” said Sternabite.

“Th…this one,” said Micah, pointing.

Sternabite looked at the button, nodded, and said, “Good.”

There was a pause of about thirty seconds, during which nobody said anything. Final y, Micah realized that there was going to be no further discussion of the exploding eggplant. He said, “I need a magnet.”

“What for?” said Sternabite.

“To levitate a frog,” said Micah.

If Sternabite found this unusual, he gave no indication. “Hubble science fair?” he said.

“Yes,” said Micah.

“Did you bring the frog?” said Sternabite.

“In here,” said Micah, setting the Tupperware container on the counter. “His name is Fester.” Sternabite removed the lid and looked at Fester. “Hmm,” he said, more to Fester than to Micah.

“Do you have a magnet that’l work?” said Micah.

“I can sel you the magnet for forty dol ars,” said Sternabite. “That’s not the problem.”

“What’s the problem?” said Micah.

“Power supply,” said Sternabite. “You only get 110 AC in the Hubble gym. You need more than that. A
lot
more.”

“So he can’t do his project?” said Tamara, brushing eggplant innards from her hair.

“I didn’t say that,” said Sternabite. He turned to Toby. “Come back tomorrow,” he said. “I’ve got an old cold-fusion reactor I can lend you. Weighs about two pounds, supplies 150,000 watts.”

“Cold fusion?” said Micah. “I thought that was impossible.”

Sternabite snorted. “It
is
impossible,” he said, “for morons.”

“But is it safe?” said Tamara. “Al those watts?”

“He should be fine,” said Sternabite, looking at Fester.

“I meant,” said Tamara, “is it safe for
people
.”

Sternabite thought about it. “Probably,” he said.

Tamara was about to ask another question when from behind her came the distinctively whiny voice of Harmonee Prescott, saying, “What are
they
doing here?” Tamara and Micah turned to see Harmonee, Jason Niles, Haley Hess, and The Ferret entering the store. “Yeah,” said Haley, frowning. “What
are
you doing here?”

“They’re leaving,” said Jason Niles, looming over Micah. “Aren’t you, Mucus?”

Micah quickly resealed Fester’s container, turned to Sternabite, and said, “I’l come back tomorrow.”

“Right,” said Sternabite, his eyes on the ME kids. Micah and Tamara headed for the door.

“Your hair looks nice, Tamara!” cal ed Haley sweetly. “Is that eggplant?”

“I
hate
Haley Hess,” said Tamara, once they were out in the concourse. “I hate her I hate her I HATE her.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’d be nice enough if you ever got to talk to her alone,” said Micah. “And she had a brain transplant.” Tamara was glaring back toward the Science Nook. “What do you think they’re doing in there?”

“Same as us,” said Micah. “Getting science fair stuff.”

“They’re up to something,” said Tamara.

“There’s Toby,” said Micah, nodding down the concourse. Toby was trotting their way.

“Sorry,” he said, when he reached them. “I got held up.”

“Where’s your backpack?” said Tamara.

“I…I left it somewhere,” said Toby. Tamara frowned and started to say something, but Toby cut her off. “You ready to go to the science place?”

“We already did,” said Micah. “The weird dude’s gonna fix me up with a magnet and a cold-fusion reactor.”

“There’s no such thing,” said Toby.

“That’s what al the morons say,” said Micah.

“The ME kids are in there now,” said Tamara.

Toby perked up. “Real y?” he said. “Doing what?”

“Dunno,” said Micah. “They kicked us out.”