welding torch and gesturing at the flame with a metal rod, while Rebecca and Anna looked on.
“The oxygen and acetylene combine in the inner cone of flame. Right at the tip of that inner cone is the hottest part of the torch—that’s the part you want to use for welding.” Darla noticed me and released the lever on the welding torch. The flame went out with a pop, and the room darkened considerably.
“Need any help?” I asked.
“You’re not allowed,” Rebecca said.
“I’m not—”
“This is the Girls’ Excellence in Engineering Klub. We’re the GEEKs! No boys allowed.”
“Um—”
“Particularly not older brothers of club members,” Rebecca said.
“What about boyfriends of club members?” I asked Darla.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
I shrugged and headed out of the barn. On the way out the door, I thought of something and turned back. “Maybe you should call it ‘Girls’ Excellence in Engineering and Science Education,’ so it would be the GEESE club.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Anna responded, “Maybe we’ll call it ‘Guys are Notably Dumb and Especially Ridiculous’—the GANDER club.”
I knew when I was beaten. I left the barn without another word.
I peeked in on the GEEKs now and then over the following days. They took two bicycles and the snowmobile completely apart. The idea was to weld the two bicycles together side by side, with the snowmobile track between them where their back wheels had been. The front wheels of each bike would be replaced with skis. I didn’t quite understand how it was going to work—the whole process seemed to involve a lot of welding and cursing. But I knew Darla would figure it out—there was no apparent limit to her genius with all things mechanical.
One day Darla surprised me by visiting me in the woodlot—the area outside the greenhouses where we sawed and split the logs we had hauled back to the farm, turning them into firewood. “Time to call it a day,” she said.
“Why are we stopping?” I asked—it was only midafternoon. “We can get in a couple more hours.”
“You don’t know?” Darla said. “Seriously? October 2nd?” Oh. I’d totally forgotten my own birthday—for the second year in a row. We had a subdued party, all ten of us. There was no birthday cake, only kale and pork like always. We lit a candle, and I blew it out almost immediately; we couldn’t afford to waste the wick. We did manage a pretty good rendition of “Happy Birthday to You.” All in all, the best part of my seventeenth birthday was the kiss Darla gave me when it was over.
It took more than two weeks for the GEEKs to finish Bikezilla II. Then Darla and I started ducking out of afternoon chores completely to bike to Warren and knock on doors, asking folks to visit Mayor Petty and talk to him about building a wall.
I was worried when we started. I figured we’d get doors slammed in our faces, people yelling at us, maybe even running us off. And a lot of people did answer their doors with guns in their hands. Darla and I approached each house slowly, our hands in plain view, loudly calling out “hello” as we came. Most of the houses we checked were vacant.
But the people we did meet were universally friendly after they figured out who we were. Almost everyone invited us in, and some of them even offered us a snack: sometimes a bit of ham, sometimes dried kale chips. Their generosity was overwhelming. Only two months ago, we’d all been starving; now folks were sharing their food willingly—eagerly, even.
That wasn’t to say that they all agreed with us. Plenty of them liked Mayor Petty. They’d known him forever; he’d kissed their babies and shaken their grandparents’ hands.
On the third day of our campaign, we met a middle-aged woman living with her two teenage sons. Before I could even say hello, she spoke up, “Hell, yes, I’ll talk to Petty about a wall!”
Darla laughed. “Best sales job
“The oxygen and acetylene combine in the inner cone of flame. Right at the tip of that inner cone is the hottest part of the torch—that’s the part you want to use for welding.” Darla noticed me and released the lever on the welding torch. The flame went out with a pop, and the room darkened considerably.
“Need any help?” I asked.
“You’re not allowed,” Rebecca said.
“I’m not—”
“This is the Girls’ Excellence in Engineering Klub. We’re the GEEKs! No boys allowed.”
“Um—”
“Particularly not older brothers of club members,” Rebecca said.
“What about boyfriends of club members?” I asked Darla.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
I shrugged and headed out of the barn. On the way out the door, I thought of something and turned back. “Maybe you should call it ‘Girls’ Excellence in Engineering and Science Education,’ so it would be the GEESE club.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Anna responded, “Maybe we’ll call it ‘Guys are Notably Dumb and Especially Ridiculous’—the GANDER club.”
I knew when I was beaten. I left the barn without another word.
I peeked in on the GEEKs now and then over the following days. They took two bicycles and the snowmobile completely apart. The idea was to weld the two bicycles together side by side, with the snowmobile track between them where their back wheels had been. The front wheels of each bike would be replaced with skis. I didn’t quite understand how it was going to work—the whole process seemed to involve a lot of welding and cursing. But I knew Darla would figure it out—there was no apparent limit to her genius with all things mechanical.
One day Darla surprised me by visiting me in the woodlot—the area outside the greenhouses where we sawed and split the logs we had hauled back to the farm, turning them into firewood. “Time to call it a day,” she said.
“Why are we stopping?” I asked—it was only midafternoon. “We can get in a couple more hours.”
“You don’t know?” Darla said. “Seriously? October 2nd?” Oh. I’d totally forgotten my own birthday—for the second year in a row. We had a subdued party, all ten of us. There was no birthday cake, only kale and pork like always. We lit a candle, and I blew it out almost immediately; we couldn’t afford to waste the wick. We did manage a pretty good rendition of “Happy Birthday to You.” All in all, the best part of my seventeenth birthday was the kiss Darla gave me when it was over.
It took more than two weeks for the GEEKs to finish Bikezilla II. Then Darla and I started ducking out of afternoon chores completely to bike to Warren and knock on doors, asking folks to visit Mayor Petty and talk to him about building a wall.
I was worried when we started. I figured we’d get doors slammed in our faces, people yelling at us, maybe even running us off. And a lot of people did answer their doors with guns in their hands. Darla and I approached each house slowly, our hands in plain view, loudly calling out “hello” as we came. Most of the houses we checked were vacant.
But the people we did meet were universally friendly after they figured out who we were. Almost everyone invited us in, and some of them even offered us a snack: sometimes a bit of ham, sometimes dried kale chips. Their generosity was overwhelming. Only two months ago, we’d all been starving; now folks were sharing their food willingly—eagerly, even.
That wasn’t to say that they all agreed with us. Plenty of them liked Mayor Petty. They’d known him forever; he’d kissed their babies and shaken their grandparents’ hands.
On the third day of our campaign, we met a middle-aged woman living with her two teenage sons. Before I could even say hello, she spoke up, “Hell, yes, I’ll talk to Petty about a wall!”
Darla laughed. “Best sales job
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