Chapter 7
Mr. B. was at his desk, with a bunch of kids laughing around him, when we walked into science class. I only saw his lemon-yellow shirt, but knew there would be brown pants and matching yellow shoes. He was always coordinated like that, and his shoes usually matched his shirts.
“It’s the poo-pee outfit,” Bird whispered to me.
“So mature,” I replied.
“I happen to like those colours together. Outside a toilet,” Sofia said in all seriousness. I figured she had Mr. B.’s outfits memorized and ranked by colour combinations.
“Do you think his girlfriend shops with him?” I asked.
“No way, he has his own sense of style,” Sofia said.
“And she’s way too cool to pick out some of his outfits,” Bird added. We had only ever seen Mr. B.’s girlfriend in the photo on his desk and, once, when she picked him up in her orange mini. That car was all we needed to declare her cool.
“All right, everyone. How about you get in your groups, so I can take attendance, and you can get finished with these water filters.”
“Yay!” Sofia clapped, leaning on our pushed-together desks.
“I think that’s ten times,” Bird said.
“Shush. This experiment is fun, and I get to be with you for a change,” Sofia said.
“Yeah, Bird, she’s finally in a good group,” I said, smiling.
“And I’m going to get a good grade!” Sofia tapped the tips of her fingers together. Sofia always tried hard, but math and science were tough for her. Sometimes she had trouble organizing her thoughts, too, so writing essays didn’t come easy, either. I told her it was because she had so many ideas trying to get out at once, and I really could see sparks flickering in her eyes when she would talk about things. I just hated when she felt dumb, because she was way smarter than me in a lot of ways.
I got our half-built tower from the shelf, and waited while Sofia and Bird gathered the rest of the materials: water bottle, funnels and coffee filters, sand, pebbles, charcoal-carbon stuff, popsicle sticks, and duct tape.
“Hey, how about we go for the no homework angle and try to finish up fast, and write the report in class,” I suggested.
“Always thinking, Josie!” Sofia giggled.
“And all about being speedy since yesterday,” Bird said as we laughed.
“Having fun?” Mr. B. asked. He gave a double-knock on our desk and kept moving. That guy didn’t miss a thing.
“Hand me our beautiful duct tape,” Bird said.
“You have to admit, pink and orange are happy colours,” Sofia said. We checked our design and picked up where we’d left off, building our tower and adding the funnels.
“So, are you guys going to be able to sleep over Saturday after the fair?” Bird asked, taking a pile of popsicle sticks.
“Definitely,” I said.
“Yes! Three more sleeps! I put it on our home calendar,” Sofia said, handing us pieces of duct tape for the frame.
“So organized! And hey, my mom said she’d make us breaded chicken for dinner,” Bird said.
“Oh, I love your mom,” I said.
“I love your mom, too . . . and her chicken,” Sofia said.
“And Bird’s brother,” I teased as I taped sticks together.
“Stop!” Sofia said. She used to hide notes around Bird’s older brother’s room when we were younger. She’d put “Hi” or “Boo” in places like his shoes, which Bird thought was hilarious. Bird encouraged anything that might annoy her brother. Sofia had always denied any crush, and I was amazed at how she wasn’t embarrassed in the least. She was bold and badass like that.
“Ooooh! And he said he would get us some booze,” Bird whispered.
“What?” Sofia asked.
“Bird and I were talking about it yesterday. What do you think?” I asked, looking around for the bright yellow shirt, just in case Mr. B. was within earshot.
“What’s he going to get us?” Sofia asked.
“Does it matter?” Bird laughed.
With our tower structure built, we added the “filters” to the funnels: pebbles in the top level, sand in the middle, and charcoal on the bottom. Underneath the tower was the last and main filter in the cut water bottle—a coffee filter, which I was supposed to add.
“Oh! I almost forgot!” Sofia said, grabbing her hoodie off the back of the chair, and taking a pink mesh ball out of her pocket. “The scrubby for the top!”
“Okay . . . go for it,” I said. Sofia topped the tower with her pink scrubby.
“Voila! The icing on the pie!” she declared.
“Or cake?” Bird smirked.
“But I don’t like cake,” Sofia said. It made me think about Nonna’s mixed-up sayings, not that I remembered them all, but Dad used to tell me. His favourite was when Nonna scolded him about “burning the bridge at both ends.”
“Well, hey, the pink puffball does make a statement. Let’s get Mr. B.,” I said and called him over.
Mr. B. came to our desk, pinching his goatee. It’s what he did when he was thinking hard.
“It’s quite . . . jazzy. I like the cotton-candy crown,” Mr. B. said, poking at the pink scrubby.
“Cotton candy!” the three of us echoed. This was a food group we could all get behind.
“All right! Where’d this puffball come from?”
“Me!” Sofia said, raising her hand.
“Looks good, Knudsen. Though not for much longer. Let’s get some of my special cocktail through this cotton candy tower and see how it filters.” Other kids came around to watch. Sofia grabbed my hand and squeezed.
“Sofia! Nails digging in!” I said, turning to her. She released her grip but started to whimper, as Mr. B. poured muddy water onto the pristine pink scrubby.
Bird and I bent in close to see the water pass through each funnel; first pebbles, then sand, and carbon, seeming a little clearer each time. Just before the water dripped to the last filter, it was me who squeezed Sofia’s hand.
“I forgot the coffee filter!” I said, as the pale, cloudy water filled the cup under the bottle.
“Oh, no,” Bird said.
“Is that going to mess up our grade?” Sofia asked, her chin all bunched up.
“Not if we write an excellent report. Right?” Bird asked and Mr. B. nodded.
“I . . . I’m really sorry, Sofia,” I said, trying to think how I could make it up to her.
“It’s okay,” Sofia said.
“You’re going to let her off that easily?” Bird asked.
“I have an idea,” Mr. B. started, “Tomaselli takes a sip for the mistake.”
“Eww, Mr. B.! You can’t make her do that!” Sofia said.
“I’m just kidding, Knudsen,” Mr. B. laughed.
“I still think she owes you. We’ll figure something out, Sofe,” Bird said.
“Yes!” Sofia laughed.
“Thanks a lot!” I said to both of them. And then I looked at Sofia and said thank you again, more quietly. I couldn’t have wished for a better friend.