He began to push tables around.
Charlie didn’t have sleeves to roll up. But he began to push tables, too.
Mitchell stuck his head in the door. “Is this the new lab?”
He looked as if he didn’t believe it.
Charlie didn’t believe it, either.
Now Mr. Redfern jumped on his desk.
He waved a mop over his head.
“Have to get rid of the cobwebs,” he said.
Charlie and Mitchell put chairs around the tables.
“Looking better already,” Mr. Redfern said.
Habib came in the door. “The lunch lady wants to see you both,” he told Charlie and Mitchell.
Charlie gave the table one more push.
“See you tomorrow, Chris,” Mr. Redfern said.
Charlie nodded.
He and Mitchell went down the hall.
“I’m in trouble, too,” Mitchell said. “I was working on a typhoon thing. I spilled water all over the lunchroom.”
A typhoon. What an idea!
“I have to help the lunch lady for a week,” Mitchell said.
And now the lunch lady was standing in the doorway.
She went to the closet door. “Stand back!”
She opened it slowly.
A huge pile of junk clattered out.
“You two could clean this,” she said. “Neaten up the whole thing.”
It would be worse than cooking.
But then Ramón, the college helper, blew his whistle.
Afternoon Center was over for the day.
“See you tomorrow,” the lunch lady said.
Charlie and Mitchell rushed upstairs and out the door.
Charlie made a list in his head.
Help with bugs.
Help with garden.
Help in lunchroom.
It was almost too much to think about.
CHAPTER 5
TUESDAY
Charlie slid along the walls.
He ducked behind doors.
He didn’t want to see Mr. Redfern.
No, he didn’t want Mr. Redfern to see him.
How could he tell Mr. Redfern that he couldn’t invent?
He’d have to say he had to help the lunch lady.
“Hey, Charlie!” Clifton yelled. He was pushing a green box along in front of him. “I’ve been looking for you.”
The box looked as if it was falling apart.
Charlie looked over his shoulder.
No Mr. Redfern.
Whew!
“Hi, Clifton,” he said.
“Let’s go outside,” Clifton said. “We’ll find my beetle family.”
Charlie shook his head. “Sorry. I have to help the lunch lady.”
Clifton looked down at the floor. “I was counting on you,” he said.
“As soon as I can,” Charlie said. “Really.”
He went into the big kitchen.
Today the snack was applesauce.
Charlie couldn’t think of anything worse.
Not unless it was tomato soup with a rock-hard popper on the bottom.
The lunch lady wore a striped shower cap. She pushed it back a little.
She pointed to the closet.
Charlie looked over her shoulder.
The closet was filled with empty cardboard tubes.
Boxes. Piles of plastic spoons. Wire. There was even an empty fish tank.
“Throw it all away,” the lunch lady said.
That good stuff!
Mr. Redfern would love it.
Charlie and Mitchell piled everything up in their arms.
Charlie rested a carton on his head. It almost covered his eyes.
They zigzagged out of the kitchen.
They headed down the hall.
“Toot-toot!” Mitchell yelled.
Outside, they headed for Jake’s huge litter bin.
“Hey,” Mitchell said. “What’s that?”
Charlie pushed the carton up so he could see. “Sneakers!” he said. “Hanging out of the litter bin.”
The sneakers belonged to Mr. Redfern.
He popped out of the bin. “Hey, Kenneth,” he said to Charlie. “And Michael. I’ve been looking for inventing material.”
Charlie pulled the carton off his head.
Mr. Redfern’s eyes widened. He clicked his beaver teeth. “Look at all that! It’s just what we need.”
He gave Charlie a pat on the shoulder.
“You two have saved the day. Let’s go back inside.”
They followed Mr. Redfern through the door.
“What will the lunch lady say?” Charlie whispered.
“She’ll just be glad to be rid of this junk,” Mitchell said.
They all went down to the lab.
There was no dust today.
The tables were lined up neatly.
Charlie dumped everything on the floor. Balls of twine rolled across the tile.
Spoons clattered.
“Stupendous!” Mr. Redfern glanced toward the door. “Come and see what’s going on,” he told someone.
Charlie looked toward the door, too.
It was the lunch lady. Her mouth opened.
Charlie held his breath.
She winked. “Good work, boys,” she said.
CHAPTER 6
WEDNESDAY
Charlie watered the lunch lady’s plants.
There were a million of them.
A stem with two little leaves had fallen off the smallest one.
Maybe he should throw it out.
But it was dying of thirst.
He stuck it in a plastic cup. He gave it a drink.
Plant watering took a lot of time.
Someday he’d invent a …
He stopped to think.
A pipe with a bunch of arms! They’d go from the sink to the plants.
You’d turn on the water and …
He’d call it the Sink-to-Drink.
Next to him, Mitchell was shining an apple on his shirt. “Talking to yourself, Charlie?” he asked.
“A week without inventing is a long time,” Charlie said.
And now he had to hurry.
Clifton was waiting.
So was Mr. Redfern.
And what about helping Jake in the garden?
There was just too much to think about. The Zigzag Afternoon Center was getting harder than school.
“All right, Charlie,” the lunch lady said at last. “You can go now.”
Charlie went to the lunchroom door.
He looked both ways.
Mr. Redfern wasn’t in the hall.
But Clifton was. He was carrying that huge green box.
They went out to Jake’s garden.
Charlie tried not to look at the stepped-on vegetables.
He stayed away from a bent-over tomato plant.
“How about we look for bugs on the other side of the school yard?” he asked Clifton.
“That wouldn’t work,” Clifton said.
“Sure it would,” Charlie said. “The earth is nice and soft from last night’s rain.”
“Do you see how far away that is?”
Charlie squinted. “About fourteen steps.”
Clifton slapped the box. “Do you think my bug family could walk that far?”
Charlie tried not to laugh. “How can you tell one bug family from another?”
Clifton didn’t answer. He began to dig near the tomato plant.
He dug with a spoon.
Charlie watched. He thought about being able to tell one bug from another.
Suppose he watched bugs all day?
He’d draw their heads, their skinny legs, their stomachs.
He’d put their names beside their pictures.
Ant. Bee. Spider.
He’d make a book. He’d call it the Bug-Looker-Upper.
Most of all, he’d draw the bugs that had wings.
Bees and darning needles. Butterflies.
He’d figure out how they coul
d fly.
He looked up at the tree. If only he could fly his Zinger-Winger.
“There’s another spoon in the box,” Clifton said.
Charlie began to dig, too. “How about a worm?” he asked.
Clifton sat back. “A worm isn’t a bug.”
Charlie nodded. He lifted a couple of ants on the spoon.
He put them in the box with a scoop of dirt.
Poor ants.
Would they be stuck in that box forever? It was no place for ants. Falling apart. Damp from rain.
Still, he spooned in a few more.
“Nice,” Clifton said. “You’re keeping the family together.”
Charlie could see the lunch lady in lunchroom window.
And Mr. Redfern was looking out the lab window.
The ants were going crazy. They ran from one side of the box to the other.
Mr. Redfern opened his window.
“There you are, Cooper,” Mr. Redfern called.
At the same time, Clifton said, “Here’s a beetle family.” He piled them in the box with the ants.
“We’re coming!” Charlie called to Mr. Redfern.
Clifton jammed the lid on the box.
They walked back into the center. They left dirt trails behind them.
Charlie swallowed. He still hadn’t told Mr. Redfern about not inventing anything the whole week.
How had all this happened?
CHAPTER 7
STILL WEDNESDAY
Charlie blinked.
The lab looked different.
Mr. Redfern’s jacket was spattered with paint.
One wall was yellow.
Another was purple with white clouds.
Yolanda stood on a bench.
She was covered with paint, too.
“Hey, Charlie,” she said. “What do you think of this?”
He looked at the wall.
What was it?
He had no idea.
“Neat,” he said.
“It’s going to be a rocket ship,” Mr. Redfern said. “Aimed for the planet Commodore.”
“I’ve never heard of that planet,” Charlie said.
“Me neither,” Mr. Redfern said. “But you never know.”
The lunch lady’s closet stuff covered two tables.
Charlie ran his hand over everything.
He could think of a dozen things to invent.
Too bad.
It was too late.
Mr. Redfern waved at the chairs. He sat down on an orange one.
Charlie sat on a red one.
“Watch out for my family,” Clifton said. “I’m going to get a snack.”
Charlie took a breath.
It was time to tell Mr. Redfern he couldn’t invent.
Not one thing.
Not even for the Great Happening.
But Mr. Redfern spoke first. “Do you think of inventing things all day?”
Charlie nodded.
Mr. Redfern grinned. “You’re a true inventor, Christopher.”
Charlie nodded a little.
Then he began.
“I squashed Jake’s tomatoes. My Zinger-Winger crashed in a tree.”
He shook his head. “My Popper-Upper blasted in the lunch lady’s soup.”
“Tomato soup with lumps?” Mr. Redfern said.
Was Mr. Redfern trying not to laugh?
Charlie nodded. “I guess the Popper-Upper went out with the soup,” he said.
Mr. Redfern ran a hand through his pigeon’s-nest hair. “I know exactly what we’ll do,” he said.
Charlie opened his mouth again.
He still hadn’t told Mr. Redfern about the lunch lady and no inventing for almost a week.
But then he heard Ramón’s whistle.
Afternoon Center was over for the day.
“I can’t invent,” he said in a rush. “The lunch lady said so.”
He didn’t wait to hear what Mr. Redfern would say.
He dashed toward the door.
Ramón blew his whistle again.
Charlie headed for the bus.
Whew! He was glad the day was over.
CHAPTER 8
THURSDAY
“Have a tomato,” the lunch lady said. “From Jake’s garden.”
Charlie took one in his hand.
It was warm from the sun.
“Jake loves to grow vegetables,” she said. “I love to cook.”
Charlie had almost forgotten.
He had to help Jake.
He had to make up for the Zinger-Winger crash.
And what about the bugs?
He wondered where they had gone.
He had to do something about them, too.
He’d do that as soon as …
As soon as he helped the lunch lady.
She was standing there munching on a tomato.
Charlie leaned forward. “I really miss inventing.”
“I want to talk to you about that,” the lunch lady said.
Would she say no inventing for another week?
For a year?
Or maybe not until he was an old man with beaver teeth and pigeon’s-nest hair.
“Hey, what’s that?” She pointed to the window.
Mr. Redfern was dragging a ladder across the yard.
Charlie couldn’t believe it. “He’s going for my Zinger-Winger.”
“He called it Kevin’s Zinger-Winger.” The lunch lady grinned. “He said it was a great idea. It just needed a little help.”
She raised her shoulders. “He thinks that someday a rocket like that might fly to …”
She looked as if she was trying to remember. “The planet …”
“Commodore?” Charlie said.
The lunch lady nodded. “I’ve never heard of that planet.”
“You never know,” Charlie said in a Mr. Redfern voice.
Now Mr. Redfern shoved the ladder against the tree.
“That ladder looks rickety,” the lunch lady said.
“Maybe I should help,” Charlie said.
“Maybe you should,” she said.
Charlie went toward the door.
“I think it’s time for you to invent again,” the lunch lady said. “You’ve helped me. And Mr. Redfern thinks you’re ready for big ideas.”
“Thanks,” Charlie said.
He raced down the hall.
He jumped up toward the ceiling tiles.
He could invent again!
There wasn’t much time until the inventing fair.
But maybe …
“Slow down, Kevin!” the lunch lady called after him, and laughed.
“Hoo-hoo!” Charlie said.
He passed the art room. A bunch of kids were helping Mrs. Farelli make posters.
Destiny was drawing a poster. It was of a girl with lots of hair. The poster was for her Rainbow Gooper-Upper.
“I’m coming!” Charlie yelled to Mr. Redfern.
Mr. Redfern couldn’t have heard him.
He was climbing.
One step.
Two steps.
The ladder shook.
Mr. Redfern shook. “Watch out!” Charlie cried.
Too late.
Oof!
Mr. Redfern hit the ground.
Charlie stood over him. “Are you all right?”
“That’s the thing with inventions, Caleb,” Mr. Redfern said. “Sometimes things don’t work out exactly right.”
Above him, Charlie could see the Zinger-Winger.
“Maybe I could climb up,” Charlie said.
Mr. Redfern scrambled to his feet.
He looked a little worried.
“I’ll hold the ladder,” he said.
Charlie took a step up.
Even though Mr. Redfern was holding the ladder, it wiggled.
It shook.
Charlie took four more steps.
The Zinger-Winger was just over his head.
He squinted at the blue sky.
He saw the clo
uds and a daytime moon.
Someday he’d be sky-high.
He knew it.
He reached for the Zinger-Winger.
Just one more step!
But he’d reached the top of the ladder.
“Go for it!” Mr. Redfern said.
Charlie lunged.
And there it was in his hand.
But he felt himself going backward.
Oof!
He and the Zinger-Winger landed on the ground.
“Good work!” Mr. Redfern said. “Never let a good invention go to waste.”
CHAPTER 9
FRIDAY
Charlie yawned. He’d been up late last night.
He’d tried to do everything.
Draw posters.
Paint wings.
Fill a bag with dirt. With seeds. With pieces of his father’s pipe.
Pile sticks up from the garage. Find bells and string.
But right now it was time for the Afternoon Center.
He had to hurry.
He went out to Jake’s garden.
He brought the sticks, and the string, and the bells.
He pounded everything in.
It was a crooked fence.
The string sagged.
But the bells would ring if someone stepped in the garden.
It was safe now.
No more squashed tomatoes.
Next Charlie headed for the lunchroom. He had just enough time for snack.
“It’s from Jake’s garden,” the lunch lady said through a mouthful of salad.
Charlie took a cup of salad, too.
It was green.
Crunchy.
“It’s my new invention,” the lunch lady said. “Just Plain Cabbage.”
“Neat,” Charlie said.
He headed for the lab.
It was crowded with kids.
Tomorrow was the fair and the Great Happening.
On Saturday!
Peter Petway was working on the Zigzag News—Read All About It.
“It’s my sloppy copy,” Peter said. “But it’s going to be the best one yet.”
Charlie looked around.
Mitchell was stirring a pot of water. He was stirring fast.
Water slopped over the table, the floor, and Mitchell’s shirt.
“It’s my typhoon.” Mitchell wiped a drop off his chin. “When I stop stirring, it’ll keep going. At least, I hope so.”
“Hoo-hoo!” Charlie said.
He watched Yolanda pour paints from one jar to another.