Ellie Sandberg would love to reinvent herself. When she earns a spot at an elite boarding school for young inventors, it seems like the perfect opportunity: A summer away from home, away from her overprotective parents, and away from the hopeless cr...
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M A D D O X
I wipe my hand across my brow to clear away the sweat. This room feels like a steam bath. It's nearly the end of July, and we've had a heat wave for the past week. I should talk to Dr. C to turn on the air conditioning. They have it switched on in the dormitories and the library, but not here in the large assembly hall where Maker Fair will take place.
The stifling atmosphere must be keeping the other students away. Maker Fair is in four days, and Ellie and I are the only ones in the room. Everyone else found a cooler workplace to complete their projects, but there's no way around it for us. The structure we're building would be too large to transport. We have to construct here in our exhibition space.
"Ow!"
I look up from the plank of plywood I was sanding. Ellie drops her hammer and stuffs her thumbnail into her mouth.
"Are you OK?" I can't help but grin at her. I swear, I have never met anyone this accident prone in my life. Somehow, it adds to her cuteness.
She takes her hand away from her mouth and shakes it out. "Stop laughing at me," she says. "That hurt!"
"Who's laughing?" I make my eyes all wide and innocent. "I didn't make a sound."
She glares at me. "You're laughing on the inside."
"I'm not laughing. I'm smiling. Is smiling allowed?"
"No." She picks up a towel and wipes her palms. "No smiling. You're distracting me."
"Then you're going to have to stop being so cute."
I drop my sandpaper and cross over to where she's working, examining our progress as I go. The three-foot-high platform is taking shape. We've still got four more days till Maker Fair, and we'll be ready for our live demonstration. We just need to sand down the edges and finishing nailing down the steps.
I take Ellie's hand. "Let me see." Her thumbnail looks red and angry from where she hit it, but at least she didn't draw blood. "You should put some ice on this," I tell her.
"Are you injured, Ms. Sandberg?"
I jump at the voice. I didn't hear anyone creep up. Dr. C stands in the doorway of the assembly room behind me. He heads in our direction.
"No," Ellie answers him, pulling her hand away. "Just clumsy. I'm fine."
I pick up the hammer she abandoned. "Maybe I should build the steps."
She scowls at me. "I know how to use a hammer."
"Take a break and check over our code. You're better at that than me anyway."
Dr. Carlyle interrupts, glancing toward the laptop that Ellie left on the work table behind us. "Will you show me, Ellie? I'd like to see."
I shoot Ellie a quick look, urging caution with my eyes. She can show him our program, but I hope she won't give away all our secrets. It's important to keep some surprises up our sleeves. After all, there are two keys to scoring well at Maker Fair: Interactivity and drama.
