Buckskin Bandit by Dandi Daley Mackall

Every thought flew out of my head. What did it do? I tried to picture my note card, my introduction. But my stupid brain camera hadn’t bothered to take a picture of that. “Like, g-gets you really clean?” I stammered.
    â€œAnd how did you come up with this idea?” Saddle Horse asked.
    I’d planned to say something about the guy who cried “Eureka!” But I couldn’t remember the whole story. “That guy in the bathtub,” I said. “I mean, when the water splashed and he ran down the street screaming.”
    They stared at me as if I had multiple heads.
    I shot up a prayer that God would calm down my brain. Then I tried again, telling them about the junkyard and Dad being an inventor and cutting holes in the stall and everything.
    They listened. Saddle Horse Woman jotted notes on her clipboard. Then they thanked me and walked on.
    â€œWait!” I shouted. “I forgot to turn it on!”
    Saddle Horse fake-smiled over her shoulder. “That’s all right, dear.”
    And I knew. In those few horrible seconds I’d wrecked the entire future of Willis and Willis Inventors.

Dad waved at me over the heads of other parents who were straining to hear the judges. I tried to smile as I waved back. He didn’t know it was all over, but I did.
    Minutes later another screech shot from the PA system. The crowd let out one big groan. Then the voice of our principal, Mr. Russell, boomed through the gym. “Ladies and gentlemen! Places, please. We are ready to announce the winners of the Ashland Middle School Science Fair!”
    If you hadn’t met Mr. Russell, who’s thin, wiry, and about Lizzy’s height, you would have thought, by his voice, that you were listening to another Clydesdale Man. I think it’s from all those years of hollering, “Don’t run in the halls!”
    Note to self: Try hollering in the halls. Maybe it will help your voice.
    â€œWe’ve had an excellent show today!” Mr. Russell boomed.
    Parents applauded.
    â€œAnd now I’ll turn over the mike to Ms. Brandywine, one of our judges. She will announce one winner from each grade who will represent AMS in the state competition tomorrow in Columbus.”
    I glanced at Dad, and he held up crossed fingers.
    Ms. Brandywine turned out to be American Saddle Horse Woman. “Thank you, Principal Russell. We shall begin with the eighth-grade division. The winning invention is the Conversation Ball. The inventor is . . . M? I’m sorry. That’s all I have on my card. Could someone—?”
    But applause thundered around the gym, drowning out Saddle Horse Woman. M’s parents were screaming the loudest.
    Finally, with Principal Russell’s help, we quieted down enough for them to continue. “And now we have a winner for the seventh-grade division.”
    My stomach hurt. It felt like I imagined colic must feel to a horse.
    â€œThe winner is . . . Summer Spidell, for her finger-combs and brushes.”
    I should have known.
    Dad’s face looked like melting ice cream, his features running down to his chin. When we saw each other, his face snapped back like elastic. But it was too late. I’d already seen how disappointed he was.
    He waved, and I waved back, both of us faking a smile and a shrug.
    He would have been so proud to have a winner for a daughter. Willis and Willis Inventors. It had been nice while it lasted.
    â€œAnd finally,” Saddle Horse was saying, “in the sixth-grade division, the winner is . . . Elizabeth Willis, for the sleeping-bag tent.”
    â€œLizzy! Lizzy! Lizzy!” The chant broke out all over the gym.
    Stunned, I turned to see Dad pushing through the crowd that thronged toward my sister’s booth. He was cheering louder than everybody put together. “That’s my daughter! That’s my Lizzy!”
    Catman and Barker crowded around and congratulated her.
    Hawk joined them and shook