Chapter 14
As the day unfolded, I could hardly contain myself, I was so excited. Walking through the swarming crowds between classes, I saw countless kids curious about our postcards.
Some were actually looking around for us in the hallways like we were Hollywood stars or something. Others were commenting on how cool they thought the artwork was. And one boy even walked up to me and said I looked good in ink. I didn’t know how to respond so I just said, “Thank you.” It felt weird but it was really cool.
When I walked outside to the courtyard to get to my next class and take in some fresh air, I witnessed the strangest sight. A few Dramatica girls were trying to see how many postcards of Mase they could collect. Some of these newborn groupies even started stapling them to their leather jackets.
As I walked back inside and back into the stale school air, I passed the band hall. The band members were warming up and playing their scales, but not quite in harmony yet. A tall, cute-looking Asian boy who was exiting the room had actually taped Susan’s postcard to the side of his trombone case. That’s so amazing, I thought.
I saw one teacher pick up the postcard of Adam that fell out when she opened the daily school paper. She smiled broadly and looked around as if she knew this was Adam’s doing all along.
I decided to walkie-talkie Mr. Bellows to check on his status.
“How’s it going?”
“It’s pretty crazy here,” Adam replied. “Has anybody said anything to you?”
“They ask me if I know what’s going on,” I said.
“And what do you say?”
“I just say I just found out about the pictures this morning. Which is partially true,” I confessed.
“Partially,” Adam emphasized. “But it’s definitely the buzz around here today.”
“Do you think people will vote for us?”
“Too soon to tell. At least we’re all on the radar ... and Mase’s doubtlessly upped his art cred.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty fabuloso,” I whispered back. Just then Bridge appeared down the hall and started walking up to me with big eyes.
“Hey, Adam, Bridge’s here. I’ll talk with you later, okay?”
“Ten-four, good buddy,” Adam grunted in his Elvis trucking voice.
“Ten-four,” I signed off.
Bridge was simply beaming as she finally reached me. I could tell she was about to burst with some really important info.
“Guess what?” Bridge whispered quickly as she grabbed my arm.
“What?”
“Guess?” she asked again, wanting to play games.
“Girl, I’m a scientist, not a psychic.”
“I just saw Bart Marquez making out with you.” Bridge laughed, holding her mouth.
“What? Have you been touching our Snacktastics?”
“No. When I was hanging out with V and Tammy Shellhorn by the boys’ locker room, I saw Bart kissing your postcard and mine. He was acting all stupid like he normally does, and then B-Dawg came up and snatched my postcard from him. And gave it to me! Can you believe it? I wanted to die,” Bridge said deliriously.
“In his arms?” I added, with a knowing smile. “Hey, what happened to mine?”
“Well, Bart just laughed and licked your face.” Bridge grimaced as she revealed the ugly truth.
“Ew,” I said, totally visualizing the whole horrible event.
“Hey, at least it was just the postcard and not real life.” Her attempt to provide comfort didn’t work.
“Ew again.”
“He got ink on his tongue, if that helps. But anyway, I’m just very, very excited,” she kept gushing.
“Why?”
“About the fact that B-Dawg saved me instead of you. That means he must think I’m special.”
“You are special, Bridge.”
“But you know what I mean, Luz. This might mean I have a chance with him.” Then, jumping on a new train of thought, Bridge added, “Oh, I just remembered. You know what? I also saw Venus looking at our postcards.”
“Really? Did she say anything?”
“Yeah, she wondered if you did this.”
“Why would she think that?”
“She said that this had the desperate smell of you. Like the fish you killed in Dr. Hamrock’s class.”
“She’s such a liar. Did you confront her?”
“Are you kidding me, Luz. I can’t say something to her in front of B-Dawg. She would have twisted it to make me look stupid in front of him. You know she would have slaughtered me.”
“Yeah, I know, but I can’t let her win and ruin my rep, Bridge.”
“But remember, Luz, this is for the experiment and Homecoming, right?”
“Yeah, I know, but it still totally sucks—unless we win. So now we have to do whatever it takes.” I was feeling ruthless.
“What about science with a conscience?”
“What about being a big fat sheep who’s dateless for Homecoming and unpopular for the next three years?”
“Okay, so what’s the game plan now?” Bridge asked as she climbed on board the vengeance train.
I instructed Bridge that she and Adam would hang back during lunch and that I would place the first tin of cookies on the Dramaticas’ table. Next, Susan would bring her batch to the band table. And after that, Bridge and Adam would bring their sweet treats to the J+L table. And when they were done, I would take my batch to the sci-fi table.
Pacing was going to be an important factor here. We didn’t know how people were going to respond, so it was necessary to stagger the consumption of the cookies.
Once the cookies were eaten, it would then be important for us to encourage our constituencies to exercise their rights as Americans—or at least as students of Gamma High—and make their votes count for the Homecoming Court. Now that Bridge was briefed with the final lunch instructions, I dropped her off at her class and went on my way.
I was still a bit nervous about everything but tried to think positive thoughts. If we ran out of cookies, Bridge and I could still make some more on Sunday. And in case Susan decided to dive into the cookies, I had made sure to tell Bridge to make Susan her own batch without the secret recipe ingredient. Every contingency was planned for.
But I couldn’t shake the knowledge that Venus was spreading the evil rumor that I killed Dr. Hamrock’s fish. How was that going to affect our outcome or my reputation?
And something else was also bothering me about Bridge adding extra chocolate chips to the batch. I couldn’t pinpoint it right away, and my brain was trying to review the molecular structure of chocolate and how it could affect the other ingredients. What could possibly happen that would be bad? I decided there was nothing else we could do about it now. We just had to go forward.
After science class, I made sure to give Susan very specific instructions about giving the cookies to the band kids.
“So, will you just repeat to me my instructions, so I know we are on the same page?” I asked as sweetly as I could.
“I’m not a baby, Luz. And if you weren’t aware, my GPA’s higher than yours,” Susan grunted.
“Yes, it is, Susan, but, whatever, okay? What did you get from this convo?”
“You want me to bring the cookies to the band table.”
“And what else?” I prompted.
“And wait about three to five minutes and then encourage them to vote for the Homecoming Court to exercise our rights as Americans,” Susan said, now sounding like a total android.
“Okay, you can skip the Americans part. I was just on my soapbox. And then what?”
“And then talk to them in my baby voice, like I do to Frotastic.”
“Okay, well, that’s partially correct. But really, I need you to be absolutely sure that you don’t partake of any of the cookies from the tin. If you absolutely must have some cookies, then eat the cookies from this baggie,” I stressed.
“Alright. Hey, what do you call these cookies, anyway?”
“They’re called Snacktastics,” I announced, thinking of my mom.
“Can I give a Snacktastic to Frotastic?” dreamed Susan.
“No! Absolutely not,” I ordered.
“What about from the plastic bag?” Susan pressed.
“Let’s say no,” I said, trying to stop the madness before Susan continued to argue with me (which she loves to do). I changed the subject (which is something I love to do).
“Susan, did you see the postcard that Mase made for you to help you get nominated for the Homecoming Court?” I asked with faked renewed enthusiasm.
“Yeah,” Susan said.
“What did you think?” I was trying to stir up some passion.
“It was alright,” Susan said with no passion whatsoever, which totally irked me.
“Didn’t you think it was the spitting image of you?”
Susan stroked her hair with her fingers. “Yeah, except my hair isn’t that long.”
“It was a fantasy-type rendition of you. You know, like your fairy kingdoms and unicorns,” I said, still working her into the zone.
“I’m not that into unicorns, Luz,” Susan said, revealing some kind of hidden prejudice against unicorns.
“Well, have people been treating you special today?”
“I guess.”
Dang, girl. She was killing me. My blood was coagulating. So I decided to kick it to her with my spurs on.
“Let me be more specific, Susan. Has anything muy malo happened to you today because of the postcards?”
Susan took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes as she tried to focus on something in the distance.
“Well, there was one person and they drew a sombrero on my head in one picture.”
“Okay, well, there’s nothing wrong with a little sombrero action. It’s the hat of my people,” I said.
Susan looked at me as if she had just run out of gas. And I was running out of time. So I told her I would be around if she needed me. And I also reminded her not to pass out any of her jelly beans as I scampered off to the cafeteria.
“Luz, where are you?” chirped my Licky Sticky.
“I’m outside the caf,” I said as I rushed to open the cafeteria door.
“You took too long, so Bridge and I are heading to our table. Over and out,” Adam said, sounding rushed.
“Okay, Adam. Sorry about the delay and good luck.”
I raced to the Dramatica table and, of course, there was no one there because this group likes to make an entrance. So, I just left the tin around where Mase usually sits. Working my way to my home base, I passed the band table and saw Susan sit down and open her tin. She took a big whiff, and for a moment, I thought she was going to dive in and I would have to dive in after her. But my fears calmed down when she carefully put the lid back on.
Finally, I arrived at my beloved sci-fi table and sat down closer to my fellow geeks than I normally do. Then I offered up my treat of the day.
I was all girly-like and said, “Hey, guys, would you like some homemade goodness?” And with my biggest smile ever, I opened the tin for them and let them get a good, strong whiff. Normally, these giant, happy sugar cookies with chunks of chocolate chips would attract people like a magnet to a fridge. But not these people.
My sci-fi pal Jimbo scratched his curly brown hair as he peered above his overly rose-tinted giant spectacles. “I’m not sure how I feel about eating refined sugars so late in the day.”
“You know you shouldn’t really keep those things housed in aluminum,” informed my other sci-fi classmate Todd. “Didn’t you review the research on the connection between aluminum and Alzheimer’s disease? You know, the disease that makes you forget things?”
“I know what Alzheimer’s is, Todd. I’m in the science cluster. Remember?” I was slightly annoyed at their collective air of superiority.
“I’ll eat one if you do, Luz,” said Jimbo as he squinted his eyes suspiciously at me.
“What? Do you think I’d put something in the cookies?” I asked, trying to fake my innocence.
Jimbo started, “No, we’re just giving you a hard time because you are transparent as a ...”
“Beaker glass?” finished Todd.
“Or a protozoan?” snickered Neal, who sat at the end of the table and never really spoke.
“Or as transparent as the human body is to low-frequency radio emission,” continued Jimbo, attempting a proof of his amazing grasp of scientific trivia.
“Alright, already!” I said, having enough of being the scientific butt to their lame humor. “I just wanted you to vote for me for the Homecoming Court,” I added, coming clean.
“Okay, then, why didn’t you just ask us?” asked Jimbo.
“I just did. Will you do it?”
“Yeah, we will,” Jimbo said as he nodded at all of his sci-fi colleagues as he took a bite of his bologna sandwich.
“Well, do you still want any of these cookies?”
“No, we know you’re cool in science, Luz. But based on research, we know that scientific intelligence doesn’t always carry over to the domestic sciences,” Jimbo joked, nonetheless still totally serious.
“Okay, that’s fair. Then I’m off to feed my toxic cookies to other unsuspecting students,” I said, totally not kidding either.
The sci-fi guys all just laughed as if they had won the battle of the minds. One thing was for sure: those guys were all smart and tough cookies themselves.
About ten minutes later, I walked back by the band table. I was about to ask Susan, who was sitting by herself, where her fellow bandmates were when I discovered the sea of green at the voting table. It looked like the cookies had worked magic. I asked Susan if everything went okay and she shrugged and nodded and then went back to drawing on her lunch sack.
I did notice that she had taken a postcard of Mase and was trying to draw him and transform him into what looked like a hobbit. I didn’t stick around to find out for sure.
I pretended I was going back into the lunch line, so I could observe the J+L table at a closer distance. I noticed the empty tin and knew the cookies were at least good enough to be devoured.
Now, from the edge of earshot I could hear the complete lovefest that was going on at the table. Everyone was talking about how fabulous the next person was. Come to think of it, if you excluded the hostility directed toward those on the outside, that kind of conversation was pretty much the norm at the J+L table. But with the cookies it became much more amplified, and at least temporarily, maybe more sincere. I just winked at Adam and Bridge as I made a U-turn and walked toward the cafeteria exit.
When I reached the Student Council voting table, it was hard to squeeze past because it was crowded with the band posse and the Dramaticas. I gathered that the Dramaticas had also polished off their Snacktastics—they were all emoting in an enthused and happy sort of way instead of being dark and mysterious.
I did note something unusual when I was near the voting table: there was a heavy gas aroma. And I’m not talking about cooking gas here. I’m talking about Señor Shortie gas. I didn’t pay too much attention to it, though, because (1) who would want to pay attention to a thing like that and (2) it was Frito pie with chili day.
I decided this would be a great time to step outside and record my observations since the audio level was definitely on the rise in there. Speaking into my Chica Speaka wireless pen mic, I described the cookies, Mase’s postcards, and how Bridge taped Susan’s pictures to the snacks after she broke open the snack machine.
I thought I might need to erase that last comment, but Bridge wasn’t really stealing anything when she broke into the vending machine. If anything, she was adding to.
Then I continued on with a progress analysis of my experiment, how everybody’s transformation had been carried out as planned and that so far my hypothesis had proved accurate. I mentioned that the voting process had started and that I expected all my subjects to be freshman finalists.
I also said that I couldn’t wait to see Swen and that he had asked me to Venus’s party. I wished that I could go with him but for now I had to act like I was with Adam so Venus would take the bait and ask Adam. Then Adam would shoot into the popular hemisphere and I could have a chance with Swen.
Although this bit of reportage didn’t apply to the official Project Gamma Glamma notations, it did make me excited just to say it for the record. And if all worked out, then this would be the science experiment of a lifetime.
As I was thinking about what else I needed to include, I saw Swen outside the cafeteria heading back to the media center. I walked quickly to catch up with him.
“Hey, Swen,” I said, catching my breath.
“Hey, Luz.”
“I just wanted to tell you that I might just meet you at Venus’s tomorrow. Is that okay?”
“Sure. Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, I’ve just been really, really busy with this project and I don’t know when I’ll be ready for the party tomorrow,” I said.
Just then Swen pulled out a postcard of me. “Yeah, I can see you’ve been putting in a lot of time ... on this.”
“It’s kind of funny, isn’t it?” I said, now feeling kinda hot and uncomfortable.
“It’s the talk of the day,” he replied. “So is this a part of your experiment?”
“Well, yes, actually it is. I mean, if I can get all my subjects voted in as finalists by their peers, then my experiment will be a success. That would be the most indisputable proof that my theory was correct.”
“But what about you? Why do you have a postcard campaigning for the Homecoming Court? Are you putting yourself through the process?” Swen asked, inquiring into my intentions.
“Well, uh ... because in order to better observe my test subjects, I just thought I would participate in the process as well. Strictly in the interest of science, you know. You can never collect too much data, right?”
Just as Swen’s questions were making me more and more uncomfortable, Bridge and Adam ran toward us and pulled me aside.
“Something awful has happened,” Adam said urgently.
“It was completely foul.”
By the look on both their faces I knew it had to be really bad. “What is it?”
“Now I know why I shouldn’t have put so much chocolate in the Snacktastics,” Bridge revealed.
“Omigod, why?” I asked, not really wanting to hear the answer to this. Bridge leaned in close making sure that no one heard her. “People started having gas attacks.”
“What?!” I screamed. Swen turned his head in our direction and I just waved him off that everything was okay.
“Yes, Luz.” Bridge grabbed my face and looked directly in my eyes. “People started expelling large quantities of gas,” she said very slowly, to make sure I knew exactly what she was saying.
Knowing that Swen was waiting on me, I signaled for him to give me one more minute with Adam and Bridge.
Adam spelled it out all the way. “What she is trying to say is that people were having a fartfest, Luz, and it got really bad. Not just the smell, either. When people started voting, they started passing gas, and then they started passing blame.”
“Yeah, and fights started breaking out between some of the band kids and the Dramaticas. Then the jocks started jumping in. It was a bloodbath, Luz,” said Bridge.
“No, it was a fartfest with a bloodbath. It was all around disgusting,” Adam remarked, still a bit shaken from the whole event.
“Omigod,” is all I could say.
“It took the principal, vice principal, and Coach Smith to break it all up. And they closed voting down for today,” Bridge reported sadly.
“You’re kidding,” I said, still in shock that this had happened.
“I wish I was. I also wish I hadn’t added all the chocolate.”
I waved at Swen begging for one more minute. He just nodded.
“What do you think happened, I mean scientifically speaking?”
“I think the combo of the metabolic stimulants in the chocolate and the fiber from the beans in today’s lunch sent people over the gastric edge,” Bridge replied.
“Hmmm,” I said, needing a moment to digest this whole gas thing.
“Luz, are we going to be in a bunch of trouble? My parents will kill me. And then what about my reputation?”
I could tell Bridge was building up into her ritual freak-out. “I’m not so sure they will be able to trace it back to the cookies,” I reassured her.
Adam jumped in, “No, of course not. Everyone will always blame the lunch food. Don’t give yourselves too much credit, girls.”
“Well that’s optimistic,” I said, desperate to find some silver lining. “I think our next step is to not do anything more today. It’s been a big day of postcards and Snacktastics. Let’s just try to get through the day,” I declared, trying to sound strong and sure—like the captain of the Titanic.
Bridge, who finally realized that I had been talking with my dream date, quickly excused herself and dragged Adam with her. I rushed back to Swen, who was waiting patiently the entire time.
“Swen, I’m sooo sorry I made you wait.”
“You’re a hard subject to investigate. Are you always this busy?”
“No, really. I promise to give you the inside scoop on Saturday night, okay?” I offered.
“Let’s shake on it, then.” Swen reached his hand out and held mine. My dumb hand started shaking. His mano was nice, warm, and strong. I just wanted to melt like the extra chocolate that Bridge had melted into our terribly tragic fartmakers.
After we said our sweet good-bye and Swen left, I wondered if I could just stop this entire experiment from blowing up in my face. Was I trying too hard? Why did everything seem so difficult? I mean, science was about observing the ways of the world and putting the facts together to discover the truth. So what did all this commotion, chaos, and lies have to do with my path to the truth?