You would think the son who had an alien invader secretly stashed in his bedroom and had just caused a jaw-dropping mess at his elementary school would be the topic of conversation at dinner that night.
I wasn’t.
Taylor was.
“Tell me again, son,” my dad said to Taylor, “I thought you and the boys in the robot club normally clean up after your meetings. What happened?”
“We usually do, Dad,” Taylor said, picking at his mashed potatoes with his electric fork. “We left a few things on the table, sure, but it wasn’t a big deal.”
“Not according to Mr. Hoog,” my mom said sternly. “The email we got from Principal Luntz was very critical of the robot club. Poor Mr. Hoog is probably still there mopping up.”
“So weird,” Taylor mumbled, mystified how a few cups and bottles became the worst mess in elementary school history.
“I, for one, am also disappointed, little brother,” I said, enjoying not being in the hot seat for once.
My dad shot me his patented mad-dad look, but he didn’t say anything.
After a moment of quiet, I spoke up. “Speaking of the lab, some of the magnets in there are neodymium magnets,” I announced. “They’re a really strong, stable, permanent magnet. They’re actually an alloy made up of neodymium, iron, and boron. Those are elements, in case you didn’t already know.”
My dad looked up from his steak and stared at me like I was the alien in the house. Even Taylor looked up from his mashed potatoes.
“What just happened?” my mom asked, looking around the table.
“Zack knows something I don’t know,” Taylor answered glumly. “The whole world is upside down.”
“Wow, Zack,” my dad said. “This year really is going to be different, isn’t it?”
“Oh, it’s different already,” I said, popping a string bean in my mouth.
“Use your utensils, honey,” Mom said. “Germs.”
“I heard you and Olivia made a rocket and shot it off in the backyard.” My dad chuckled with amazement.
“Oh, dear, that sounds dangerous,” my mom said.
“We were super careful,” I said. “I even wore a mask.”
My dad turned to Taylor. “Looks like we might have more than one young scientist at this table—a rocket scientist, no less.”
Taylor groaned and went back to re-mashing his potatoes.
“Oh, Mom and Dad,” I said, “do you two know anything about tungsten? It’s an element. It’s the W on the periodic table. Atomic weight of seventy-four. It has a super-high melting point. Carbon is the only element with a higher melting point. Anyway, do you think we might be able to get some?”
The room got so quiet I could almost hear my food being digested.
Suddenly my dad started laughing, like I had just done the most amazing card trick in history. My mom started clapping with excitement. Taylor just held his face in his hands.
“Why on earth would you want that?” my mom asked excitedly.
“Just curious, I guess,” I said. “About science and stuff.”
“I know next to nothing about how much tungsten costs,” my dad said. “But I think we can look it up on the internet.”
“If it’s safe,” my mom added. “We don’t want it in the house if it’s radioactive.”
“It’s not radioactive,” Taylor said from between his hands.
At that point, my mom jumped up from her chair and came over and gave me a big hug and a couple of kisses on the cheek.
“Nice work, Zack,” I heard Amp say inside my head. “You are a very sharp cookie, my friend. Now finish eating. We have more work to do!”
I couldn’t help but smile, knowing that this year just might be better—or at least more interesting—than I could have ever imagined.
The End