motor is in neutral.”
“Wow!” Roger looked up from the manual. “How did you know that, T. J.?”
T. J. shrugged. “Simple. It’s like making the Super Sundae Special at Toot Sweets. First goes the hot fudge, then the gummy worms, then the ice cream. Next is the strawberry syrup and marshmallows. Then whipped cream, Sno-Caps, and sprinkles go on top.”
I shook my head. T. J. is like a piñata. You never know what’s going to come out of his mouth, the same way you never know what’s going to come out of a piñata.
I wrapped the pull cord clockwise three times around the rope pull. “Ready, guys?” I said, steadying the tank with my left hand.
“Wait!” Roger ran into the garage.
RAT-TAT-TAT! RAT-TAT-TAT!
“What Operation Fireball needs is a drumroll.” Roger banged a hammer against an old cookie tin with a reindeer on it.
The
Fireball
is the name of our boat. It’s a whaler from the 1970s that the three of us have been fixing up. We’regoing to enter it in the Captain Kidd Classic, the biggest boat race of the summer. We’re also planning to beat snooty Bryce Billings in the race, so Operation Fireball is our secret code name.
Roger and T. J.’s eyes were on me as I turned the flywheel clockwise. I had done every little thing the manual said. This time I was positive I did it right. I took a deep breath and gave a sharp pull on the rope.
Nothing.
I pulled a little harder.
Nothing.
I wrapped the cord again. Then I pulled on the rope.
Still nothing.
“Tartar sauce!” I kicked a rock in frustration. It ricocheted off the oil drum and hit me. “Ow!” I rubbed my knee.
“Another failure,” said Roger, beating a slow RAT-TAT-TAT.
Roger was right. I had failed—again. All of a sudden, I remembered something Thomas Edison said before he invented the phonograph (the very first machine that could record sound and play it back).
“I have not failed,” I said. “I’ve just found ten thousand ways that won’t work.”
Roger and T. J. both looked at me. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Fish!” Roger said. “You are not really thinking we are going to do the bucket test nine thousand, nine hundred, and ninety-three more times.”
He and T. J. groaned.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I have a plan.” I didn’t quite yet, but I was sure I would think of something any minute.
Suddenly, there was a piercing scream. AAAAHHHHH!!!
T HOMAS E DISON (1847–1931)
In 1877, inventor Thomas Edison was working on the telegraph when he noticed that the noise the paper tape made when played at high speed through the machine sounded like spoken words. Edison took a tinfoil cylinder and a needle and made the first phonograph that could record sound. The outside horn phonograph was produced from approximately 1898–1931. And you know the first words he ever recorded? “Mary had a little lamb!”
E.S. FARBER is the mother of a boy who likes facts along with his fiction, which inspired her to write Fish Finelli. She spent many days at the East Hampton Library researching Long Island history, including pirates, and where she actually saw Captain Kiddâs cloth of gold (you can, too!). Besides writing at the library, she also works with librarians to create spelling bees and other programs for kids. She has authored numerous chapter books, early reader books, manga, and educational books. She lives in Amagansett, NY.
JASON BEENE communicates best with a pencil and paper in front of him, which has helped him in his grown-up career of making games, teaching at MIT and RISD, and being a father to two girls. Jason's latest adventure is being Art Director of Callaway Digital Arts. He lives in Providence, RI.
“Wow!” Roger looked up from the manual. “How did you know that, T. J.?”
T. J. shrugged. “Simple. It’s like making the Super Sundae Special at Toot Sweets. First goes the hot fudge, then the gummy worms, then the ice cream. Next is the strawberry syrup and marshmallows. Then whipped cream, Sno-Caps, and sprinkles go on top.”
I shook my head. T. J. is like a piñata. You never know what’s going to come out of his mouth, the same way you never know what’s going to come out of a piñata.
I wrapped the pull cord clockwise three times around the rope pull. “Ready, guys?” I said, steadying the tank with my left hand.
“Wait!” Roger ran into the garage.
RAT-TAT-TAT! RAT-TAT-TAT!
“What Operation Fireball needs is a drumroll.” Roger banged a hammer against an old cookie tin with a reindeer on it.
The
Fireball
is the name of our boat. It’s a whaler from the 1970s that the three of us have been fixing up. We’regoing to enter it in the Captain Kidd Classic, the biggest boat race of the summer. We’re also planning to beat snooty Bryce Billings in the race, so Operation Fireball is our secret code name.
Roger and T. J.’s eyes were on me as I turned the flywheel clockwise. I had done every little thing the manual said. This time I was positive I did it right. I took a deep breath and gave a sharp pull on the rope.
Nothing.
I pulled a little harder.
Nothing.
I wrapped the cord again. Then I pulled on the rope.
Still nothing.
“Tartar sauce!” I kicked a rock in frustration. It ricocheted off the oil drum and hit me. “Ow!” I rubbed my knee.
“Another failure,” said Roger, beating a slow RAT-TAT-TAT.
Roger was right. I had failed—again. All of a sudden, I remembered something Thomas Edison said before he invented the phonograph (the very first machine that could record sound and play it back).
“I have not failed,” I said. “I’ve just found ten thousand ways that won’t work.”
Roger and T. J. both looked at me. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Fish!” Roger said. “You are not really thinking we are going to do the bucket test nine thousand, nine hundred, and ninety-three more times.”
He and T. J. groaned.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I have a plan.” I didn’t quite yet, but I was sure I would think of something any minute.
Suddenly, there was a piercing scream. AAAAHHHHH!!!
T HOMAS E DISON (1847–1931)
In 1877, inventor Thomas Edison was working on the telegraph when he noticed that the noise the paper tape made when played at high speed through the machine sounded like spoken words. Edison took a tinfoil cylinder and a needle and made the first phonograph that could record sound. The outside horn phonograph was produced from approximately 1898–1931. And you know the first words he ever recorded? “Mary had a little lamb!”
E.S. FARBER is the mother of a boy who likes facts along with his fiction, which inspired her to write Fish Finelli. She spent many days at the East Hampton Library researching Long Island history, including pirates, and where she actually saw Captain Kiddâs cloth of gold (you can, too!). Besides writing at the library, she also works with librarians to create spelling bees and other programs for kids. She has authored numerous chapter books, early reader books, manga, and educational books. She lives in Amagansett, NY.
JASON BEENE communicates best with a pencil and paper in front of him, which has helped him in his grown-up career of making games, teaching at MIT and RISD, and being a father to two girls. Jason's latest adventure is being Art Director of Callaway Digital Arts. He lives in Providence, RI.
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