Nobody's Perfect (8 page)

It was obvious. Megan was stuck with Alexis. She had been paired with the meanest and most difficult stuck-up, annoying girl in the entire fourth grade!

Now that the list had been read, collaborators were supposed to meet at each other's desks to discuss potential science fair ideas—but instead of meeting Alexis at her desk, Megan flagged Jann to meet her at Ms. Endee's desk. Megan marched directly to the front of the classroom and right up to Ms. Endee.

“I can't work with her,” she signed, jerking a thumb toward Alexis.

Ms. Endee waited for a moment for Jann to translate Megan's words into speech. “Why not?” asked Ms. Endee.

“Because she
hates
me,” Megan signed. “Alexis
hates
me.”

Ms. Endee flinched slightly before she responded. She glanced toward the back of the classroom where Alexis sat quietly at her desk, flipping through the pages of a notebook.

“ ‘Hate' is a very strong word,” said Ms. Endee. “We shouldn't use that word unless we mean it.”

“Even so, she hates me,” Megan repeated.

“Alexis?” said Ms. Endee in a disbelieving tone. “Alexis doesn't hate you. She can't possibly
hate
you. She's only been here three days!”

“She hates me,” Megan insisted. “She really, really hates me.”

“Has she ever
said
that she hates you?”

Megan twisted her lips and sighed. It was true that Alexis hadn't exactly said anything like that. “Not exactly,” she responded. “But I can tell she hates me! She's mean to me. She ignores me. And she scrunches her nose when she has to look at me. Ask Alexis if you don't believe me. She'll tell you I'm right.”

Ms. Endee shook her head emphatically. She wasn't having it. “Megan,” she began, “you're one of the brighter and more responsible students in this class. You and Alexis should be able to work together. There's no reason in the world why you two can't get along.”

“It's not that
I
don't get along with
her
,” Megan insisted. “It's that
she
doesn't get along with
me
.”

“Megan, I expect you to make this collaboration work. I'm not reassigning science fair partners based on a popularity contest. I expect you and Alexis to put aside your differences and do the work at hand.”

“Yes, Ms. Endee,” Megan said obediently, even though she wasn't feeling particularly obedient at all. She felt a little ashamed for complaining about Alexis in the first place, but mostly she felt disappointed by the prospect of being matched with the mean girl as a science fair partner. Clearly she was stuck with Alexis whether she liked it or not.

•  •  •

Ms. Endee set aside the last hour of the school day for the students to meet with their collaborators and brainstorm ideas. As Megan glanced about, she noticed the other students were chattering animatedly. She saw Tracy and Maya talking, deep into plans for a project titled “Snails: Friend or Foe?” Kaitlyn and Sawyer had decided to examine “Why Some Dogs Prefer Cat Food over Dog Food.” Rainbows, constellations, and magnets were as popular as ever.

Ms. Endee smiled at all the commotion. Normally, she would have asked the students to keep the volume down, but she was pleased with the lively exchange of ideas around the classroom.

Megan and Alexis, on the other hand, sat in silence.

“I don't know how to talk to you,” Megan said at last.

“I don't know how to talk to you, either,” Alexis replied, apparently satisfied with the stalemate.

Megan didn't expect the conversation to go any further, but then, to her surprise, Alexis continued. “Last year when I went to school in Houston,” she abruptly blurted, “I did a science fair project about the tide. Every afternoon I went to the beach and I measured the tide.”

“That won't work here,” said Megan. “We don't have an ocean.”

“It wasn't an ocean,” said Alexis. “It was the Gulf of Mexico.”

“Whatever,” said Megan, flipping a hand.

“Well,
you
come up with an idea,” said Alexis.

“I'm trying,” Megan said with annoyance. “Nothing's coming up.”

Alexis bent to the side to reach under her desk for her pencil pouch. Megan couldn't help but notice that the pencil pouch was purple.

“You like purple?” she asked Alexis.

“It's all right,” said Alexis, without a great deal of enthusiasm. She pulled a novelty pencil out of her pouch—a double-thick pencil with shiny foil squares up and down the sides. Megan noticed that the pencil was purple too.

“You like purple more than you think,” Megan offered.

Alexis only shrugged. She wrote her e-mail address on a piece of paper and handed it to Megan. “Here's my e-mail,” she said. “Shoot me a message if you come up with an idea later.”

“We're supposed to do this
together
,” said Megan. “I'm not supposed to do your work for you.”

“I'm not asking you to,” Alexis protested. “I just figured we should stay in touch.”

Megan sighed dramatically. This collaboration was doomed. At that moment Cindy crashed their meeting, slamming herself against Megan's desk with a cheery “Oops, sorry!” Then she said, “Sooooo, how's it going?”

“Awful,” said Megan. “We don't have a single idea. How about you?”

“Tony Rosenblum and I have got it all planned,” said Cindy. “We're comparing the absorption rate of different diapers. It's kind of disgusting but also kind of perfect because Tony Rosenblum has a new baby brother and an endless supply of disposable diapers.”

“Perfect,” said Megan. “Lu-cky.”

Alexis tapped her purple pencil against the desktop but didn't say a word.

Megan looked at Cindy and shrugged. The situation was hopeless.

By the time the bell rang, Megan and Alexis still didn't have any ideas.

“Look,” said Alexis, in an exasperated last-ditch effort the moment before everyone hit the door, “let's both come up with an idea tonight, and tomorrow we'll vote on which one is our favorite.”

“That won't work,” said Megan. “You'll vote for your idea and I'll vote for mine.”

“Good point,” Alexis allowed. “But maybe we'll put our ideas together.”

“I don't think that's going to happen,” said Megan with a dismissive flip of her hand.

“Good-bye class,” cried Ms. Endee. “See you tomorrow!”

Megan smiled at Ms. Endee and turned back to see that Alexis had loaded her purple pencil back into the purple pouch, had grabbed her backpack, and was already headed for the door—without even saying good-bye.

“It's not going to work,” said Megan, looking at Cindy. “I'm being nice, but she's being totally difficult.”

MEGAN HAD FIVE COOKBOOKS OPEN
on the counter and was buried in the index of the sixth.

Matt walked into the kitchen and announced himself with a hearty belch.

“Ugh!” Megan groaned, disgusted at the smell and fanning the air with the open cookbook.

“What are you doing?” Matt asked.

“Nothing,” Megan said with exasperation. “Because I can't find it in the cookbook.”

“Can't find what?” asked Matt. “What are you trying to make?” He circled the counter to lean over Megan's shoulder and focus on the cookbook.

“I'm looking for a recipe for purple frosting for my purple birthday cake,” said Megan. “But I looked under
f
for frosting and
p
for purple and I couldn't find
anything
.” She snapped the cookbook shut. “Okay,” she allowed, “there are recipes listed under frosting but nothing that says ‘purple frosting.' ”

“You make purple frosting out of eggplant,” Matt suggested. “Try looking under ‘eggplant.' ”

Megan looked suspicious. “Will that work?” she asked, reaching for the cookbook once more.

“Eggplant frosting, my favorite!” Matt cried. “I used to beg Mom to make that all the time! She'd put it on cupcakes and I'd be the hero of the first grade.”

Megan eyed Matt with greater suspicion. Sarcasm was difficult to detect when a person was signing, but she was fairly convinced that Matt was being sarcastic.

Matt turned his back on Megan and walked to the cupboard. He returned to smack a box of food colors onto the counter directly in front of Megan.

“What's this?” Megan asked.

“Food coloring, Einstein,” said Matt.

“I thought of that already,” Megan protested, “but food coloring doesn't have purple.” She pushed the box away. “Food coloring has only red and blue and green and yellow.”

“Einstein,” Matt nagged. “Red and blue
make
purple.”

“I know that,” Megan snapped automatically, but then she brightened considerably. Megan hated being corrected, but she prided herself on being able to admit her mistakes. It hadn't even occurred to her to mix the colors. “Of course!” Megan cried. “Red and blue make purple!” She lifted the red and the blue bottles from the box and shook them so that the dye sloshed inside. “Are you allowed to do that?” she asked Matt. “Is it really okay if you mix the colors?”

“Moms do it all the time,” said Matt. “But I don't see why you want purple frosting, anyway. People aren't going to like it. You're only going to make their tongues purple.”

“Some people like purple tongues,” Megan insisted. “I know I do.” She was thinking of grape Popsicles in the summertime or grape lollipops at the doctor's office and the way they always gave kids a chance to show off their tongues. She headed for the sink to add a quick splash of water to a juice glass.

“Blech,”
said Matt, scrunching his face. “You might as well stick with the eggplant frosting. Face it, Megan. Not everybody likes purple!”

“But some people
do
,” Megan argued. She dripped two drops of red food coloring into the water and watched it dissolve. The water quickly turned a rosy shade of pink. She added two drops of blue. The colors swirled separately for a moment before Megan stuck her finger into the glass to give the solution a quick twirl.

“See, it's purple,” said Matt, leaning forward to look at the purple water. “Just like I told you.”

“Funny how you think red and blue won't get along,” said Megan. “Then you mix them together and—surprise! Purple!”

“And not a bad purple,” said Matt, considering the water. “It's more violet, really.”

“See?” said Megan. “That proves it! People
think
they don't like purple, and then they see it, and they love it!”

“That's not what I said,” Matt protested. “I didn't say I loved it.” But Megan had already leaped from the kitchen stool and thrown both hands into the air. She danced about as though she'd just been struck by the absolutely most excellent, most extraordinary, most brilliant idea.

“That's it! I've got it!” Megan cried.

“Got what?”

“My science fair project!” said Megan. “I'm going to prove that purple is the greatest color of them all!” She gestured at the purple water. “See? See?” she asked. “Is this not the greatest science fair project idea of all time?”

“Hmm, yeah,” said Matt, dripping with sarcasm. “Sounds like the Nobel Prize to me.”

•  •  •

The following day Mr. Ryan visited Ms. Endee's fourth-grade classroom to approve the science fair projects. Kids were generally encouraged to be creative with their experiments, but some kids needed guidance down more realistic paths. Melinda Bird and Kim Lewis, for example, wanted to build a rain forest by the school Dumpster.

“That's a really great idea,” said Mr. Ryan, “but a rain forest takes a lot of dirt and a whole lot of trees.”

“I told you so,” said Kim to Melinda. “Too much dirt, too many trees,
and
too much water. Rain forests need lots of water. It's a
rain
forest. Hello?”

“And how is the Dumpster truck going to reach the Dumpster if there's a rain forest in the way?” asked Mr. Ryan.

“Okay, okay,” said Melinda. “We can build a suspension bridge instead.” Kim smiled because the suspension bridge had been her idea.

“A suspension bridge?” Mr. Ryan arched his eyebrows. “Where are you going to build that? In the school parking lot?”

“Just a little one,” Kim insisted. “Out of Popsicle sticks.”

Mr. Ryan brushed his hand across his forehead and issued a big “Whew!” as though he were really relieved.

Other kids, like Megan and Alexis, for example, needed help figuring out how to agree on any idea at all.

“Let me get this straight. ‘Purple is the greatest color.' ” Mr. Ryan repeated Megan's words. “How do you plan to prove that?”

“Just, I don't know, ask people,” said Megan. “We'll conduct a survey.”

“Uh-
huh
,” Mr. Ryan said, scratching his chin. In sign language Mr. Ryan was saying “old man” but Megan knew from the context of the conversation that he was simply thinking of a response. And she could tell by looking at him that he wasn't sold on the idea of purple. “Not really much of an experiment,” he added.

“Well, it's the only idea I had,” said Megan. She was determined to make it work even if she had to be stubborn to do it.

“Okay, hmmm,” Mr. Ryan said, turning toward Megan's partner. “What's your idea, Alexis?”

Megan sulked.
Here we go
, she thought.
Mr. Ryan's going to like Alexis's idea better than mine.

“Hamsters,” said Alexis. “I like hamsters.”

“Hamsters?”
blurted Megan. She brushed a finger across the tip of her nose almost like she was scratching whiskers. The gesture was sign language for the word “hamster.”