“The challenge is simple,” Savannah said. “If you can balance a full glass of water on the back of each of your hands and not spill a drop, without help from anyone, I’ll do all the work on the report. If you spill or ask for help, then Justine does all the bug and frog counting that I was supposed to do. And she writes the report for the presentation on Earth Day that she and I are supposed to do together.”
“We’re supposed to take video,” Michael said. “You have to be in the video when we are in the woods.”
“Fine,” Savannah said. “I’ll take my iPad and sit under a tree and play Minecraft while you guys do the work. Stupid bug and frog count.”
“Only if you win the challenge,” Blatzo said. “I’m an athlete. I can balance a glass of water on the back of each of my hands.”
“You can’t spill a drop,” Savannah said. “And nobody can help you. Remember, those are the conditions.”
“And if I balance without spilling a drop,” Blatzo said, “not only do you do the report and the bug count, but you stop being the Queen of Mean. Those are my conditions.”
“Blatzo, you don’t need to do this,” Justine said. “If Savannah doesn’t want to write the report or do a bug or frog count, I’m okay with that. I’ll do her work.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Blatzo said. “The Queen of Mean is going down. Unless she’s afraid of the bet.”
“Deal,” Savannah said. “You balance the glasses on your hands. Nobody helps you. If you don’t spill any water, I’ll do the report and stop being mean. That would be a shame though. I really like the name. It has a nice ring to it. The Queen of Mean.”
“Fine, let’s do this,” Blatzo said.
“Put your hands on the table. Palms down,” Savannah said.
Blatzo did. Savannah placed a nearly full glass of water on the back of Blatzo’s right hand. Then the back of his left hand.
“See?” Blatzo said. “Done. Not a drop of water spilled.”
“Remember,” Savannah said. “You can’t spill a drop. And nobody can help you.”
“Look close,” Blatzo said. “Not even a wobble. You could add more water to each glass and I still wouldn’t spill a drop. I told you. I’m an athlete.”
“Not even a wobble,” Savannah said. “Very good, Blatzo.”
“Now what?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Savannah answered. “There wasn’t a time limit on the bet. Make sure you stay nice and steady.”
The bell rang. Students got up from the tables around them to go to class.
Justine, Safdar and Michael stood. So did Savannah.
Blatzo stayed at the table, looking at a glass of water on each of his hands.
“Hey,” Blatzo said. “I have to go to class too.”
“Good luck,” Savannah said. “Nobody is allowed to help, remember? I’ll be very impressed if you can take your hands off the table without spilling any water. And I think class starts in about two minutes.”
Blatzo stared at the glasses of water on the backs of his hands.
Then he groaned and, in frustration, banged his forehead on the table between his hands. He didn’t spill a drop. He was an athlete.
“Yup,” Savannah said with satisfaction. “I am the Queen of Mean. Great name. Very cool. Think it will look good on a T-shirt?”