That evening, Mr. Z. and Ms. Stevermer came over for the sauerkraut party. I showed Eli how to make strawberry lemonade like Grandmom Davis taught me. Mom and Asad had a fight about whether or not Asad was going to get any dessert if he didn’t at least try Ms. Stevermer’s coleslaw. Mr. Z. brought his favorite kind of potato salad, and I told him all about our trip to Rose’s, and the motherboard I found, and how Grace helped me check it out. He thought it sounded good too. And Dad and Oma barbecued sausages. We found out that she doesn’t get burned even when she sticks her hand through the barbecue grill to move the coals around. So, that was educational.
When all the sausages were barbecued and ready, Oma floated a bowl of sauerkraut over and set it down in front of Mr. Z. “Guten Appetit!” she wrote, and held it up for everyone.
Mr. Z. nodded at the sign. He took a forkful of sauerkraut and put it in his mouth. We all held our breath while he chewed.
He swallowed, and smiled. “It reminds me of my mother’s, only better. There’s something a little bit different about it….”
I opened my mouth to tell him about the juniper berries, but Oma elbowed me and wrote, “That is all thanks to my secret ingredient.”
Mr. Z. chuckled. “Ah, yes, every cook has her secrets. My mother’s was caraway.”
Oma smiled, and finally let the rest of us try some too.
I took the first bite. It was pretty weird, but not that bad.
“It’s like pickle salad,” Eli said, putting his fork down.
Dad laughed. “Or pickle coleslaw, maybe. But you should really eat it on a sausage.” He handed us our sausages, and showed us how to put spicy brown mustard on one side of the bun and sauerkraut on the other, and then squish the whole thing down so you could take a bite.
“Kind of like a sausage with pickle salad on it,” I said, grinning at Eli over mine.
“This is the best sauerkraut I’ve ever had,” Dad said. “Nice work, Oma!”
Oma wrote that of course it was. It was her specialty, after all, and she’d been making it longer than he’d been alive.
Asad wouldn’t try it. But he did draw a picture of Oma in her pj’s and a cape, defeating some kind of giant octopus robot by throwing sauerkraut at it. (At least, that’s what he said it was.) After dinner, Oma brought out her special pan. When she flipped it over, her mohn gugelhupf came out perfectly—but Asad took one look at it and started to cry. “I want brownies!”
Eli looked at Asad, and at the frowning ghost, then at me. “Maybe we should go finish getting ready for your computer build.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go do that.”
Mom offered to help Oma can her sauerkraut the next day. Oma wanted us to help, but Mom said she didn’t think two almost-teenage boys, an unpredictable ghost, a bunch of glass jars, and a huge pot of boiling water were a good combination, so Dad and Asad gave me and Eli a ride to Maple Falls.
We stopped at the library on our way. Dad and Asad stayed in the car while Eli and I went inside.
“Hey, HD. Hey, Eli,” Harry said, giving us the nod. “Got any interesting questions for me?”
I nodded back. “Can you find me the manual for this motherboard?” I passed him the information.
“You mean, this is the big day?” Harry asked. “Or are you refining your plan?”
“This is it,” I told him. “I got my components and my peripherals, and we’re on our way to build my computer.”
Harry got up and came around from behind his desk. He reached out his hand, and we did one of his cool Harry special handshakes—the kind he usually only does when you finish your summer-reading-program goals or win the Battle of the Books.
When I told him how much Eli helped with all the calculations and everything, he did one with Eli too.
“I am very impressed,” he said, going back to his chair. “Very impressed indeed, and happy to do my part for this endeavor. Now, let me see…Aha!” Harry tapped some more keys, and the printer whirred out some paper. “Anything else?” he asked, handing it to me.
“Yeah, one more thing,” I said. “Could we get some entry forms for the county fair?”
“Sure thing,” he said, turning back to his keyboard. “You’re entering your computer, so the technology category….What about you, Eli?”
“I’ve got a tap recital, but I don’t need a form for that,” Eli said. “Ms. Izdebski takes care of it for our class. We need a form for sauerkraut, though.”
Harry nodded. “Sauerkraut—so, in the jams and pickles category, right?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I told him.
“Looks like entry forms are due a week before the fair opens, along with the entry fee, so you want to get those in soon. Then you check in at the Entry Registration Booth by nine a.m. on the date your category is judged.” He clicked a few more clicks, and the printer whirred again.
“Here’s the instructions too.” He handed over the sheets, and Eli started reading them. Harry smiled at me. “You know, I’ve never entered the fair, but I make a mean coconut shortbread. Let me know how it goes for you, and maybe I’ll think about it next year.”
“Why don’t you just enter it?” I asked. “I mean, I hear Mrs. Alvarez’s cookies are pretty tough to beat, but maybe she’ll make a pie or something instead. What have you got to lose by trying?”
Harry looked at me—really looked at me, not like Yeah, whatever, kid. “You know, HD, I think that’s some very good advice. I just might do that.”
When Dad and Asad dropped me and Eli and all my computer stuff off at Maple Falls, Mr. Z. was waiting for us in the project room. Someday I’m going to have a project room in my house. It has two big tables that fold up if you need to get them out of the way, and a bunch of folding chairs, and pretty good lighting too.
“We brought everything, Mr. Z.!” Eli said.
“Including the manual for that motherboard,” I told Mr. Z.
“Excellent,” Mr. Z. said. He isn’t exactly a pump-your-fist kind of guy, but even he was grinning today. He cleared his throat. “HD, I have something for you—something that might help with this project.” He handed me a small black case.
I took it from him, and slowly unzipped it. It was a set of screwdrivers, all lined up in their pockets: slots, Phillips, and stars, two different sizes each, with an anti-static wrist strap tucked in too.
“This is my old computer tool kit,” Mr. Z. told me. “Now that you are building computers, I thought that you might like to have it.”
It was perfect. But my eyes felt funny, and my chest kind of hurt, like I couldn’t breathe. How was Mr. Z. going to make anything without his tools? “But—you might need it.”
Mr. Z. shook his head. “I don’t think I will need it anytime soon, and I would be happy knowing you’re putting it to good use.”
“Let me know if you ever want to borrow it back, though, okay?” I told him. “You can, anytime you want to build something.”
“I will,” he said, smiling. “I promise.”
“Danke, Mr. Z.,” I told him. “Danke very much.”
“Gern geschehen, HD.” Mr. Z. turned to the project tables. “Now line everything up, and we will take a look.”
So Eli and I lined everything up in the middle of one of the project tables while Mr. Z. moved slowly down the line, examining each part. He was using his cane today. When he got to the end, he nodded. “Now you are ready to build something beautiful.”
I took a deep breath and started ripping the plastic wrap off of everything. It was pretty much like Christmas, even if I did already know what everything was. Eli put all the packaging in the trash can for me, and Mr. Z. checked the manuals. I opened my project notebook, and turned to my list of steps.
HD’S COMPUTER BUILD:
Put on the anti-static wristband. Attach the clip to a metal area on the computer case.
Unscrew the case screws and slide off the sides.
Install the I/O shield into the case. (Already in there!)
Remove the motherboard from the case.
Install the CPU in the socket on the motherboard.
Attach the CPU fan on top of the CPU.
Push the memory down into the slot on the motherboard.
Install the power supply in the case.
Attach the motherboard to the case.
Connect the CPU fan, the case fan, the power supply, the speaker, and the power button to the motherboard.
Unclip your wristband.
Connect the power cord to the power supply.
Connect the monitor to the computer.
Plug the computer and monitor into the electrical outlets.
Power everything on to see if it lights up.
Unplug everything from the electrical outlets.
Clip your wristband again.
Install the solid-state drive.
Connect everything else to the motherboard.
Manage your cables.
Put the sides back on the case, and screw them in.
Unclip your wristband again.
Connect the keyboard and mouse.
Plug the computer and monitor back into the electrical outlets.
Power it all up.
Have fun with your BRAND-NEW COMPUTER!!!
First I got the anti-static wristband out of Mr. Z.’s tool kit, and I put it on. Mr. Z. helped me fasten it, and I figured out where I could clip it to one of the metal parts of the case. Even a tiny, tiny bit of static electricity can fry your delicate computer components, way smaller than you could feel. But this way, it would go into the case, instead of the components. (Besides, it looks pretty cool and maker-like.)
I let Eli blow the dust out of the keyboard with Mr. Z.’s can of compressed air, because he was a big help, with all that calculating. Besides, I’ve used the compressed air lots of times.
“It’s still kind of dirty,” Eli said.
So Mr. Z. got a bottle of rubbing alcohol, some cotton swabs, and an old toothbrush out of his supplies box. I said it was fine if Eli cleaned up the keyboard and the mouse while I worked on my computer build, if he wanted to. Eli said sure, he’d never brushed anything but teeth with a toothbrush before, but he’d give it a try.
Then he gave me the can, and, very carefully, I used the compressed air on the motherboard, in case there was any microscopic dust on there. It still looked fine to me. But it wasn’t like I’d seen a lot of motherboards in real life, out of their packages.
I got out the largest Phillips screwdriver from Mr. Z.’s tool kit, and I unscrewed all the screws on the back of the case. Then I lifted one side off, just like Grace had. Then the other. I checked that step off the list.
Then I unscrewed all the screws holding the motherboard in place, and lined them up on the table.
“You can set it down on this, to protect it while you work on it,” Mr. Z. said, handing me a square of black foam, just like the one that comes with brand-new motherboards in the computer-build videos I’d watched.
“Thanks,” I told him, setting the foam next to the screws. Carefully I lifted the motherboard up by the edges, not touching all those delicate circuits, and put it down on the foam.
For the CPU, I turned to the diagrams Harry had found for me. One of them matched my CPU socket exactly, so that’s what I followed. I lifted the little wire arm all the way up, out of the way. Then I held my breath; carefully, carefully, carefully lifted up the CPU by the edges; lined up the triangle on the corner with the mark on the socket, and lowered it down. I gave it just a little push, to make sure it was settled right. Then I lowered the little wire arm again, and it sucked the CPU into the socket and locked it in.
Mr. Z. gave me a high five after that one, even though that’s not usually his thing. CPUs are expensive, so if you mess that part up, well…let’s just say he knew I was nervous about it.
The fan that came with the CPU already had special paste on it, and it came with screws too. So all I had to do was align the underside of the fan with the CPU, like it showed in the diagram, then stick it on and screw it down. I know how to assemble things carefully, and obviously I know how to use a screwdriver.
The memory was trickier. It had a little clip thing on one side of the motherboard slot that I had to unlatch and open. Then I had to match up the notch on the memory stick to the bump in the slot, to put it in the right way. I had to push the stick down into the side of the slot without the clip, and then the other side. The edge of the stick is really narrow, and if you bend it, the whole thing’s ruined, so I was nervous. It took me a few tries to push it down hard enough to snap it in so that the clip would close again. I had to take a deep breath and shake out my hands after that. But Mr. Z. said I did great.
The first time I tried to put the power supply into the case, I put it in upside down. But it was pretty obvious that wasn’t going to work, since the screw holes on the power supply didn’t align with the holes on the case. So I took it out, turned it around, and tried again, without Mr. Z. having to say anything about it. That way worked just fine. I tucked that big octopus nest of cables out of the way so I could see what I was doing.
I knew how to install the motherboard, because I’d just taken it out of the case. My case already had the little brass standoffs screwed into the side of the case wall, so all I had to do was match up the screw holes on the motherboard with those brass standoffs and screw it in again.
I didn’t have a diagram or anything for the next part, because every motherboard and every power supply and every case is a little bit different. Instead, I read the tiny, tiny writing near the pins and plugs on the motherboard, and matched it up to the tiny, tiny writing on the cables. Then I had to turn the connectors around, or sometimes pick from two connectors on the same cable, and see which one had the round and square combination that matched the socket, kind of like a puzzle. There were a couple of mysterious parts I had to ask Mr. Z. about—like, who knew that “ATX12V1” matched “pwr”? But he said that’s what he was there for, and I was doing great.
I connected the power cord. That was easy. And I already knew how to connect the monitor, and how to unclip my wristband, and plug everything in for the first test.
Mr. Z. grinned. “Ready?”
Eli came over so he could see too.
I grinned, reached out, and pushed the power buttons on the computer and the monitor.
The monitor’s power light came on. But not my computer. No case fan, no CPU fan, no beeps, no lights. Nothing.
“Why isn’t it doing anything?” Eli asked me.
It took me a minute to make the words come out past the lump in my throat. “I guess it’s fried.”
“No, we cannot say that yet,” Mr. Z. said. “First you must double-check everything you’ve done so far.”
“You mean, maybe it was fine until I broke it?” I asked. That really didn’t make me feel any better.
“No, I meant that it may not be broken,” Mr. Z. said. “A connection might not be pushed in far enough, or a plug might not be seated correctly.”
“Okay,” I said, even though I didn’t think this was going to help at all.
Mr. Z. looked at my face. “But first, I think we will have a snack break. Troubleshooting on an empty stomach is not very effective.”