CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SPREADSHEET

spread·sheet

noun \spred-sheet\

—a computer program that calculates numbers and organizes information in columns and rows

Just before school let out on Wednesday, we all gave Jonathan our life span calculations so he could create the spreadsheets.

Around four o’clock, the phone rang at home. It was Jonathan. “You’re not gonna believe this.”

“What?” I said.

“Our computer just crashed. Blue screen of death and all.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I’m dead serious. My mom’s on the phone with tech support right now, but I’m pretty sure it’s trashed.”

“Oh no. That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, it’s not the greatest timing. My dad’s got this military dinner thing we have to go to, and I really need to get this done before we leave. I ran over to Lucille’s to see if I could use their computer, but no one was home.”

“Yeah—she has Girl Scouts on Wednesday. Let me check with Mom, but I’m sure you can come on over to my house and use ours.” I cupped my hand over the receiver and told Mom about Jonathan’s computer. “She said to come on over.”

“Great, thanks! I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Jonathan said.

He arrived with his backpack swung over one shoulder just as I finished printing out the last of the animal photos. “I’m going to grab some construction paper to glue these to. The laptop is in the living room on the coffee table—I’ll meet you there in a second.”

“Awesome,” said Jonathan, pulling the papers with our calculations out of his backpack. He spent close to an hour rearranging columns and rows, entering numbers, and working with different fonts for each sheet.

Every once in a while, I’d peek over his shoulder to make sure it looked good. After the tenth time, he crossed his arms and tapped his foot. “Can I help you with something?”

My shoulders slumped. “Sorry—I just want it to be perfect.”

“You worry too much. It’ll look great.” He checked the time on his watch.

“What time do you have to leave for your dad’s dinner?” I said.

“At eighteen-hundred hours.”

I looked up from my gluing. “When?”

He grinned. “Habit, sorry. Everything at our house is told in military time.”

“I don’t know how to tell military time.”

“It’s easy. Just add twelve to any time after twelve noon, and you’ll know what time it is. One o’clock in the afternoon is one plus twelve, or thirteen-hundred hours. Two o’clock in the afternoon is two plus twelve, or fourteen-hundred hours.”

I did the math in my head. Backwards. “So eighteen-hundred is eighteen minus twelve? It’s really six o’clock?”

“Yep.” He leaned back on the sofa and sighed. “Okay, I think I’m done. Should I print it out?”

“Yeah, go for it. I think the printer is still on.”

He walked over to the printer to get his papers. Picking them up, he gave a nod of approval. “Perfect.” He grinned. “Now do you want to see them? I’m gonna start packing up.”

“Sure.” I put down the glue bottle and Jonathan handed me the spreadsheets—one for each animal. “Wow,” I said. “There sure are a lot of numbers on these.”

He let out a small laugh. “Yeah, well, the animals we picked live for a ton of minutes and seconds.”

“You’re telling me—I’m the one who had to figure out the tortoise, remember? I didn’t know a calculator could show that many numbers.”

He started to put the spreadsheets in his bag, but I stopped him. “Why don’t you leave the spreadsheets here? I’ll put them with the photos and give them to Lucille at the back gate tomorrow morning.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. We might as well keep everything together,” I said, knowing full well that I wasn’t planning on giving anything to Lucille.

He shrugged. “Okay.” He handed me the papers and I put them on top of the photos I’d printed.

“Thanks again for letting me come over and use your computer. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do when Mom told me ours had kicked the bucket.”

I grimaced. “I remember when our last computer crashed. My mom cried for hours because there were some photos she hadn’t saved to the external hard drive and they were gone forever.” I looked over at the closed laptop. “Speaking of saving stuff, what name did you save the spreadsheets under?”

“I’ve got them saved on my thumb drive.” He pulled the thumb drive from his pocket. “Do you want to hold onto it, just in case?”

I shrugged. “Sure, but you checked everything, right?”

“Yep. Several times.”

He handed me the thumb drive. It was shaped like the Incredible Hulk. I pulled off the Hulk’s legs to reveal the metal part that plugs into the USB port. “That’s cool.”

“Thanks—my dad gave it to me for my birthday last year.”

I stuck the Hulk’s legs back on and set the thumb drive on the table. “I think we’re done for now.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jonathan headed home and I finished gluing the printed photos of animals onto construction paper. I put the spreadsheets in a pile, placed the photographs and thumb drive on top, and carried the stack to my room, where I placed it on top of my book bag on the floor. I didn’t want to put them inside my bag because the glue still needed to dry. But I quickly picked them up again. With Chewy eating half my belongings and barfing on the other half, I didn’t want these anywhere he’d be able to reach. They needed to be kept somewhere high off the floor.

I opened the closet door, thinking the dresser would be a great spot, but Aunt Willa’s stuff covered every inch of the top. I could put them in Mom’s office, but not until she was done for the day. She had a strict rule about people walking in and out of her office during “work hours.”

Frustrated, I sighed and wished for the hundredth time that Chewy (and Aunt Willa) had stayed at someone else’s house. I glanced at the clock. Chewy wasn’t even allowed inside until after dinner, so I could safely leave the papers on my backpack to dry until after my shower. Then, I figured, I’d stash everything in Mom’s office where it’d be safe until morning.

Tomorrow was Thursday—just one more day of prep and then the math fair. Just one more day until I would know the fate of my summer. If only something would tip the scales in my favor.

I hoped Lucille was home by now because I needed to call her … and let her know that I would be taking over her job as display designer.