CHAPTER 5

“Looking nice, looking nice . . .”

After a few weeks of trial and error, things were looking up for ol’ Rube Goldberg. Not only was he worrying less, but now he was getting a whole six hours of sleep a night. Little victories were still victories. Not that he was winning across the board, though. School took a back seat to machine making. Rube failed to turn in two reports and bombed a few quizzes. His teachers warned him that he had to step up his game, but that could come later. Con-Con came first. Once it was over, he’d pick up the slack and go above and beyond to get his grades where they needed to be. A few Fs mixed with a few As equal a few Cs, which was all he needed to pass. And if that didn’t work?

It will.

“Almost finished . . .”

The Science Lab was not for machine building, but Rube’s house had become unbelievably cluttered and he felt the need to switch things up. Twice a week, during Study Hall, he’d slip in and mess around for a bit when the room wasn’t occupied. After a rigorous screening process, he whittled down the Con-Con contenders so only a select few remained. There were failures along the way, some more heartbreaking than others. But Rube tried his hardest to focus on successes like the Nose Picker, which had become a beloved front-runner with endless comedic potential. My favorite kind of potential. The premise was simple—picking your nose is gross. Why not build something that picked it for you? Pure genius.

“This should do the trick!”

After Rube switched a few parts out, the Nose Picker was finally ready for a trial run. It had winner written all over it. Rube set the machine in motion, watching each step execute perfectly. It worked better than he expected. So much better that the machine’s grand finale, the Pickening, was fast approaching. Can’t have a Nose Picker without a nose to pick. Rube raced to get in place for the grand finale, but before he made it, Mr. Blank swung open the door to the Science Lab unexpectedly.

“Gah!”

Startled by his sudden appearance, Rube tripped and fell into the Nose Picker, almost demolishing the machine completely. Had this happened at home, Rube might consider it a small setback (albeit still an embarrassing one). However, failing in front of the person who helps decide the winner of Con-Con was a different story. He’d just eaten a heaping helping of humiliation with a side of all-consuming frustration. Rube wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. Thankfully, he didn’t. That would have been bad.

“The Science Lab is not the place for experimentation,” sneered Mr. Blank. “You were warned about this.”

That doesn’t make any sense!

Mr. Blank was one of the new teachers at Beechwood, and little was known about him aside from the fact that he didn’t seem to be a happy guy. Rube was fascinated with his black, helmetlike hair. “Vader-esque” was the word he used. Even Mr. Blank’s wrinkles were strange. It was as if someone blew him up like a balloon and stretched his skin as far as it could go. Then, as he deflated, his loose skin was draped over a skeleton and topped off with a pair of dark glasses. Mr. Blank surveyed the remains of Rube’s machine, using his index finger to move its parts around, looking for flaws. “What was the name of this . . . masterpiece?” His voice dripped with snark.

“The Nose Picker.”

“How innovative,” Mr. Blank said, rolling his eyes. “Clean up this mess and leave.”

Instead of explaining himself and saying things he might regret later, Rube got to work picking up the machine’s broken pieces. Mr. Blank sat down at his desk and watched Rube like a hawk. It was deeply uncomfortable. The whole room simmered in tension. It was too much for Rube to bear. Awkward conversation was on the menu.

“How do you like Beechwood so far?” he asked.

“It’s fine.”

Mr. Blank’s hair shimmered in the sunlight. It looked as if it was hard as a rock. Rube couldn’t stop staring. “Do you use product in your hair? I do sometimes. My hair gets frizzy. Does yours ever get frizzy? There’s this oil my dad got in Morocco—he travels a lot for work—that’s really good for frizzy hair. You should check it out.” Mr. Blank’s glare was cold and confused. “I’m just nervous about Con-Con. I really want to make something cool that will blow everyone else’s machines out of the water. Respectfully.”

“First you have to make something that functions,” replied Mr. Blank, flashing a fake smile. “Then you can worry about accolades and acclaim.”

“You sound like Professor Butts,” Rube muttered under his breath.

Mr. Blank’s left eyebrow raised. “What did you just say?”

“Oh, um, nothing. There’s this guy that lives in my neighborhood.” Rube quickened his pace, shoving pieces of the Nose Picker into his pockets. “I wasn’t calling you a bad name or anything. Please don’t get me in trouble.”

Mr. Blank took his glasses off and laid them on his desk. “You know, Rube, passion is no substitute for commitment. Consider that you may not be cut out for this competition. Perhaps it would behoove you to focus your energy on something you’re actually good at doing. Just a thought.”

The words hit Rube like a ton of bricks. His stomach started churning. His hands turned damp and clammy. He had to get out of there. “Thanks for the pep talk.” He grabbed his backpack and headed out. Rube wasn’t sure what exactly was happening inside him, but he wasn’t about to risk an accident. He ducked into the boy’s restroom, splashed water on his face, and tried to calm down. “You got this, Goldberg,” he told his reflection in the mirror. “Con-Con is still a couple weeks away. You’ve got plenty of time to figure things out. Dry your face, get your head in the game, and handle your business.”

“Ruuuuuube?”

A somber voice called out from one of the side stalls. Rube turned to see who it was, his face dripping wet, but he didn’t spot any legs dangling. Am I going crazy? Or was Boob actually right?! Are there really ghosts around here!? The sound of heavy breathing was definitely coming from the side. No smell. That’s a good sign. He walked over, carefully opening the first, then the second door, and found Boob crouched on top of the toilet seat. “What the fuzz are you doing!?”

“Oh, you know, just hanging out.”

Before Rube could properly interrogate Boob on his odd behavior, Mike and Ike burst into the restroom, pushing each other around like a couple of drunken monkeys. Rube slammed the stall door shut, returned to the sink, and pretended everything was fine. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said. “Nice day for a pee.” Stop talking, Rube!

“Hahaha.” Ike pointed at Rube. “I bet you just pooped.”

Rube smirked. “Everyone does. It’s not a big deal.”

Mike began kicking open the bathroom stall doors, one by one. He clutched his phone tightly, recording whatever he found inside. But he wasn’t stuffing the toilets with paper or writing graffiti on the walls. He’s looking for someone. Rube ran interference.

“Have you smelled this?” he asked, presenting the out-of-date soap dispenser. “Mint and cucumber. Two powerful titans, coming together to create a fragrance unlike anything the world has ever smelled before. Who knew?”

“Shut up, Goldberg,” Ike grumbled.

Mike reached the corner stall. Uh-oh, Boob’s in trouble. He tried kicking the locked door open, hurting his foot in the process. That made him extra mad. Inside the stall, Boob stayed quiet as a mouse. Do not open your mouth. Mike craned his head down to look for feet but didn’t see any. Agitated by the lack of closure, he turned his attention to Rube.

“What are you even doing in here anyway?” asked Mike.

“Practicing my dance moves, of course.” Rube wiggled and shook his body as awkwardly as he possibly could. It was an old trick he used to make bullies uncomfortable. That way, they wouldn’t know how to react and just walk away. Based on Mike’s and Ike’s disgusted expressions, the plan was working.

FLUSH!

Then Boob accidentally flushed the toilet in his stall.

It was like a vortex of water being summoned forth by an old god. Rube panicked. “Look over there!” he shouted, pointing to the stall at the opposite end. “It’s the Phantom Pooper!” Mike and Ike scurried over to check it out. As they stuck their heads in to investigate, Boob escaped out the door. Rube followed closely behind. “Oops. False alarm. Bye!” They hid in a janitor’s closet nearby until Mike and Ike cleared the scene. Once it was safe to come out, they conferred in the hallway, where Rube had a few pressing questions for Boob.

“What was that all about!? Were Mike and Ike looking for you?

“Not exactly,” Boob said. “I think they just wanted to talk to someone.”

Rube gripped Boob by the shoulders and looked him square in the face. “If either of those two caveboys give you a hard time, you have to tell me. Promise?” His tone was deadly serious.

“Yeah,” Boob said, his eyes cast downward.

“Say it.”

“I promise.” He slipped out of Rube’s grasp and suggested a different option. “What if you made a machine that embarrassed them in front of the entire school? Something that involves diapers and them wetting their pants, maybe?”

Before Rube could respond to Boob’s odd request, a familiar face came gliding down the hall to greet them. “Well, well, well,” Pearl said with a smile. “My old friends hanging out without me once again. If I knew any better, I might think this was a conspiracy.”

“Too bad you’re never around long enough to find out. What with all of your activities and such.” That was a little harsh.

More than anything, Pearl was amused by Rube’s pointed remark. She had no shame in having a busy schedule. “Principal Kim wants to see you.”

“Funny,” Rube replied.

“I’m serious,” Pearl said. “Last week, he made me his office assistant. Not only that, I’m also running for sixth-grade class president. Why don’t you guys come over tonight and help me make flyers and stuff? My brother has a button maker. It’ll be fun.”

Boob burst with joy. “Buttons! I want to make buttons!” Then he remembered something. “But I can’t tonight. I’ve got a date with the Internet. Ghost business.”

“Boob, c’mon,” Rube said. “That ghost thing is so silly.”

“No, it’s not. An evil spirit has been awakened. We have to be prepared.”

“Where’s that doll?” Pearl asked.

“Gladys is resting in my locker,” Boob replied. “There’s no way I’m taking that thing home with me. I’ll spread the curse! I gotta get back to class. Save some buttons for me!”

Boob took off down the hallway, leaving Rube to contemplate Pearl’s offer. She could smell the cageyness before he even opened his mouth. “Just say it, Goldberg.”

“I would, but I’m . . .”

“Working on a machine. Same story you’ve been giving me for weeks. When do I get an invitation to come see these amazing contraptions?”

“World-class chefs don’t invite people into their kitchen to show them how they make their most famous dishes.” Good analogy, Rube.

“But you’ve only been ‘cooking’ since this summer. Nice try, though.”

She has a point. “You got me there.” Rube wanted to come out swinging and rise to the top on the first day. But that’s not how things worked.

Pearl checked her watch. “I’ve got to go grab some paperwork about setting up a new STEM program. Exciting! You need to go see Principal Kim. We’ll link up later.”

Rube shuffled down the hall to Principal Kim’s office. Miss Mary ushered him in. “He’s been expecting you,” she said. “Good luck!”

Good luck?! What does that mean?

Principal Kim was looking at his phone. “Rube!” he exclaimed, fumbling the device as he turned it off. “Glad you’re here.”

Rube planted his butt and got down to business. “If this is about what happened with Mike and Ike just now, Boob and I were only making jokes. I would never build a Diaper-Changing Machine to embarrass them in front of the whole school. I don’t even know if they wear diapers! But they are giant babies, so it makes sense—”

“Stop. Diaper-changing . . .? No, that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Oh. I thought . . . um . . . never mind.”

“What have you heard about this ghost stuff?”

Uh-oh. “What . . . ghost . . . stuff?” Rube played dumb better than most people. Or, at least, he though the did.

“There have been strange occurrences around here. Some of the staff reported odd sounds coming from the boiler room. Lights flickering off and on after hours. Items have gone missing.” Principal Kim leaned in, speaking in hushed tones. “Beechwood has a history of supernatural incidents. We don’t want students to be frightened, of course. You’re not in any danger. But if the local news calls, put them in touch with me, would you?”

Boob was right. Rube gulped. “Yes sir,” he said, getting ready leave.

“Wait. That’s not why I called you in.” Principal Kim leaned back in his chair. “Rube, you’re a gifted student. I noticed it back when you were in elementary school. Artistic. Technical. A clever mind like yours is a blessing. I know sometimes it might feel like a curse.”

“Get on with it,” Rube said flatly. “Sorry. I mean, um, go on.”

“There’s that short fuse I remember.” Quit stalling. “Your teachers have told me you haven’t been completing assignments, and you’re already failing two classes.”

“It’s only the beginning of the school year. If I ace everything in the second part of the semester, I could make a B average, assuming I do all the extra credit.”

“That’s not a workable approach.”

Bad news is coming. Rube felt it in his bones.

“There are academic qualifications for the Contraption Convention, Rube. And I’m afraid you haven’t met them. Mr. Blank and I are very sorry, but you’re no longer allowed to compete.”