himself. Well, anyway. You get my point.” He takes a couple steps, then stops, looking confused. “The point?”
He looks straight at a guy named Christopher. Christopher’s eyes widen.
“The point?” Christopher echoes.
“Exactly! The point is the process! You have a problem. In trying to solve it, you come up with a hypothesis, a theory. And then you test it out, to see if you are right. That’s all it is, scientific inquiry in a nutshell. Understand?
“Now, Miss Jong.” Owen spins around, catching Jongy and Joe whispering to each other. “Hello, Joe Josephs of the unfortunate name.” He moves over to Jongy.
“Miss Jong. I have a hypothesis for you. May I have that stick of makeup you thought was appropriate to apply as you spoke to your esteemed science teacher?”
Jongy looks around, unsure what she should do. Owen just stands there with a big smile on his face. She gives him the lip gloss. He takes it back to his desk, puts on a pair of reading glasses, and studies the small print.
“Hmmm.” He takes off his glasses and returns the lip gloss to Jongy.
“What?” Jongy’s worried.
“My hypothesis,”—Owen gives Jongy a reassuring smile—“is that your lip gloss may be dangerous to your health. Why do I say that? Because I suspect it flattens the natural protective layer of your lips, allowing rays of sunlight to penetrate directly through the skin, causing skin cancer and other non-cancerous disfigurations.”
“Disfigurations?” Jongy mutters.
Owen seems not to have heard her. “How do I test for this?” He continues,“I read the label. And sadly . . .” He looks over to Jongy. “I’m right.”
“English, please,” Jongy says, annoyed.
“Lip glosses without sun protection act like a magnifying glass to the sun.”
“What does that mean?”
“I think you should invest in some new lip gloss.With sun protection.You’ll thank me for it later, trust me.”
Jongy smirks, but then quickly uses the back of her hand to wipe off her lip gloss.
“So again,” says Owen. “Someone tell me. Scientific inquiry is . . . ?”
“Problem, hypothesis, testing, analysis,” says the blond kid in the back.
“Excellent, Charlie,” Owen says.
“My name’s Christopher.”
“Right. Of course it is.” He walks over to his desk. “Scientific inquiry is just a fancy way of describing what you already do instinctively, and putting names to all the steps. Now listen. We have a lot to get through this year. Some of it may actually be helpful to you.
“And some of it may not. Throw some spaghetti against the wall”—he lifts his right arm and pretends to pitch something against the back wall—“and see what sticks. Now. Let’s talk about our first assignment!”
As he continues, Margaret, the pretty girl who answered the first question, turns to me.
“Don’t worry about Jongy,” she says. “We went to camp together. I know how she is.”
“Thanks.”
I’m so nervous, I can’t really look at her. But I think she’s still staring at me.
“I’m sorry about your farm,” she says. “It sounds scary. Was it?”
I grip the edge of the desk. Nothing’s changed. “Uh, yeah.” I turn away from her and look out the window.
“Are you okay?” she says.
Exhibit A. Polly Peabody. Hypothesis: She’s a freak. Testing: Express concern at her farm’s condition. Conclusion: Freak.
It’s never going to go away.
I don’t speak the rest of class, staring so hard at my desk that I think I’ll burn a hole in it. When it’s over, I run away as fast as I can—so fast that I don’t even notice that I’m colliding into some classmates: Will, Joe, and Jongy.
“Hey!” Will says. “You’re Freddy Peabody’s sister.”
“Yes.” I try not to look at any of them. But Joe suddenly leaps toward me. Before I can move, he grabs my head and locks it in the middle of his elbow.
“Ow!”
“What’s that about?” Will asks Joe. “Leave her alone.”
But I know what
He looks straight at a guy named Christopher. Christopher’s eyes widen.
“The point?” Christopher echoes.
“Exactly! The point is the process! You have a problem. In trying to solve it, you come up with a hypothesis, a theory. And then you test it out, to see if you are right. That’s all it is, scientific inquiry in a nutshell. Understand?
“Now, Miss Jong.” Owen spins around, catching Jongy and Joe whispering to each other. “Hello, Joe Josephs of the unfortunate name.” He moves over to Jongy.
“Miss Jong. I have a hypothesis for you. May I have that stick of makeup you thought was appropriate to apply as you spoke to your esteemed science teacher?”
Jongy looks around, unsure what she should do. Owen just stands there with a big smile on his face. She gives him the lip gloss. He takes it back to his desk, puts on a pair of reading glasses, and studies the small print.
“Hmmm.” He takes off his glasses and returns the lip gloss to Jongy.
“What?” Jongy’s worried.
“My hypothesis,”—Owen gives Jongy a reassuring smile—“is that your lip gloss may be dangerous to your health. Why do I say that? Because I suspect it flattens the natural protective layer of your lips, allowing rays of sunlight to penetrate directly through the skin, causing skin cancer and other non-cancerous disfigurations.”
“Disfigurations?” Jongy mutters.
Owen seems not to have heard her. “How do I test for this?” He continues,“I read the label. And sadly . . .” He looks over to Jongy. “I’m right.”
“English, please,” Jongy says, annoyed.
“Lip glosses without sun protection act like a magnifying glass to the sun.”
“What does that mean?”
“I think you should invest in some new lip gloss.With sun protection.You’ll thank me for it later, trust me.”
Jongy smirks, but then quickly uses the back of her hand to wipe off her lip gloss.
“So again,” says Owen. “Someone tell me. Scientific inquiry is . . . ?”
“Problem, hypothesis, testing, analysis,” says the blond kid in the back.
“Excellent, Charlie,” Owen says.
“My name’s Christopher.”
“Right. Of course it is.” He walks over to his desk. “Scientific inquiry is just a fancy way of describing what you already do instinctively, and putting names to all the steps. Now listen. We have a lot to get through this year. Some of it may actually be helpful to you.
“And some of it may not. Throw some spaghetti against the wall”—he lifts his right arm and pretends to pitch something against the back wall—“and see what sticks. Now. Let’s talk about our first assignment!”
As he continues, Margaret, the pretty girl who answered the first question, turns to me.
“Don’t worry about Jongy,” she says. “We went to camp together. I know how she is.”
“Thanks.”
I’m so nervous, I can’t really look at her. But I think she’s still staring at me.
“I’m sorry about your farm,” she says. “It sounds scary. Was it?”
I grip the edge of the desk. Nothing’s changed. “Uh, yeah.” I turn away from her and look out the window.
“Are you okay?” she says.
Exhibit A. Polly Peabody. Hypothesis: She’s a freak. Testing: Express concern at her farm’s condition. Conclusion: Freak.
It’s never going to go away.
I don’t speak the rest of class, staring so hard at my desk that I think I’ll burn a hole in it. When it’s over, I run away as fast as I can—so fast that I don’t even notice that I’m colliding into some classmates: Will, Joe, and Jongy.
“Hey!” Will says. “You’re Freddy Peabody’s sister.”
“Yes.” I try not to look at any of them. But Joe suddenly leaps toward me. Before I can move, he grabs my head and locks it in the middle of his elbow.
“Ow!”
“What’s that about?” Will asks Joe. “Leave her alone.”
But I know what
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