Addison Addley and the Things That Aren't There (2 page)

“Besides, you know I love working with numbers,” she added, staring at me in a way that made me feel like I was supposed to share her feelings. I think Mom secretly wanted to be an accountant or some other strange math-loving creature. She was always trying to play little number games with me, like telling me to see if I could balance my bank account before the computer did it for me. She didn't know that I just kept the money from my paper route in my underwear drawer, between all my holey socks. That was enough balancing for me. She even used to make number-shaped cookies to try to get me to add as I was eating. Instead of putting the two and the three cookies together like she suggested, I just ate the whole plateful. I figured that was the quickest—and tastiest—way to get to five.

She downed her raspberry tea in a single gulp. “Did you know,” she said, “that those stars that you're talking about actually made that starlight thousands of years ago? It's taken many years to reach us.”

“So that's what you see when you look up there, some really old light?” I asked.

“No, that's just it,” Mom explained, practically glowing now. “It's what you don't see.”

I scratched my head as I put my French toast into the microwave to warm up. I was sure I was adopted now. Either that or I took after Dad. He lived in Australia now, trying out a new career as a sheep farmer. He probably didn't have time to look at the sky, just the fields. Besides, I bet the stars were upside down in Australia. I knew he didn't like numbers. I guess he didn't like letters either, since he'd only sent us two e-mails in the last year.

“There are so many unexplained mysteries out there,” Mom gushed as she threw the frying pan into the sink. “If it takes that long for starlight to reach us, don't you wonder what those stars look like right now? We see a star—but maybe it's something else by now and we won't know for thousands of years. We see what that star looked like way back then. Because it's so far away, it takes ages for the information on what it looks like now to reach us. Who knows? It might not even be there anymore. Scientists are constantly discovering things like new planets and asteroids or discovering that things they thought were planets aren't really planets after all. Not everything is as it appears.”

“I see,” I said.

“What about black holes?” she continued. Her face lit up like the night sky. “Black holes are really dense areas in the universe that have such a strong gravitational field that nothing can escape from them, not even light. Everything just disappears into them. You can't see them, so you can't prove they exist. That's what some people think, anyway. But you can't prove that they don't exist either. Like I said before, just because you can't see something, it doesn't mean it isn't there.”

She blew me a kiss as she breezed out the door.

The microwave beeped. I stared at it for a minute. Then I got that flash of inspiration that sometimes comes my way. I had a topic for my speech, and it was sweet.

“Things that aren't there. Are you crazy?” Sam asked that afternoon as he helped me deliver the Saturday papers. My best friend sometimes thinks the worst of me. Maybe that means my worst enemy sometimes thinks the best of me. That would be nice. Sam snorted like he always does when he doesn't approve of my undeniably brilliant plans. I remember the time that he didn't believe me when I came up with this fantastic idea of how to get a day off school to go to the fair across the road. All we had to do was convince Principal Pierce that we were doing an art project. We needed to take a picture looking down at the school-yard filled with kids at recess. It had to be taken from a high point, like, say, a Ferris wheel. We couldn't wait
until the weekend because there'd be no kids in the yard then. The trouble was, Principal Pierce didn't believe me either. He made us take the picture from his second-story office window.

Sam shook his head. “Why don't you pick a normal topic, like the history of industrialization?” he suggested.

Now it was my turn to snort. Normal? The history of industrialization hardly sounded normal. I didn't even know what it meant. Sam always used big words. The problem was, he usually knew what they meant too. Why Sam had to be so smart, I don't know. I guess it was so I could look dumber. He's a thoughtful guy.

I explained about starlight and black holes and Mom and the astronomy club. “There have to be lots of things that aren't there,” I said. “Like this morning, when I heard the microwave beep. I couldn't see those waves, but my French toast was hot, so they must have been there. I could just call my speech ‘Things That Are There But You Can't See Them,' but that's too boring. My title's better. Besides, a hundred years ago, people wouldn't have believed that something as weird as a microwave really was there. It would have been a thing that's not there back then. I bet there are some things
that aren't there today, but in fifty years from now, they will be.”

I was proud of myself. I'd come up with that one pretty fast.

Sam was quiet for a minute and then he spun around.

“Things that aren't there!” he cried. “I get it now! You mean like how dogs can hear a whistle at really high frequencies even though we can't? We'd never know that whistle was there, but the dog sure does. Things that aren't there, they're just not there. Not there.” Sam always repeats things three times when he gets excited or nervous. “At least to some of us. This has merit,” he practically shouted. “This could be good,” he translated for me.

“Like I said, this speech is going to be good. It will practically write itself,” I boasted. It's hard to be humble when you come up with a really good idea. The problem was, I couldn't seem to come up with any more of them. I couldn't write a speech on just one or two things that weren't there. I needed more.

“How about ufos?” Sam said, looking up at the sky. “So many people believe in them, but they can't prove they exist. They're not there, or...are they?”

I wasn't sure I wanted someone to prove ufos were there, thanks just the same. Ever since I'd watched that movie about a giant football with lights landing in someone's backyard, I had tried to avoid the subject. I'd had nightmares for weeks. If there really were ufos, I didn't want to know about them. Let them stay where they were.

I slapped Sam on the back. “Just keep thinking,” I encouraged him. There was no use putting my brain to work when Sam could come up with the ideas for me. You know, energy conservation and all. I had to do my bit.

Besides, Sam had his speech on medieval times already written and probably memorized. I needed to concentrate on bigger things, like how I was going to help Mom become the treasurer of the astronomy club. After all, if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have my incredible speech idea. I told Sam that if he could concentrate on my speech for a while, then I could concentrate on helping Mom. Two heads are better than one.

I hadn't seen Mom so excited in a long time. The way I figured, if she could get out and spend her time worrying about somebody else's money, she wouldn't have so much time to worry about what I was doing
with mine. She'd have to expend all her worrying energy at the club. Heck, she'd probably even enjoy not having as much time to tell me to clean my room, and she might not notice when I stashed peas in the crack under the table so I wouldn't have to eat them. If I could help her out, I'd be glad to do it.

It was sort of nice being around her when she was really happy. She always had a goofy faraway look on her face, as if she was imagining that she was on the moon. Sometimes I'd catch her humming something that I remembered from a long time ago when I was a little kid. It didn't matter that it was out of tune. It sure beat listening to the sound of her crying.

The astronomy board needed to find out about Mom's talents. She knew how to change the oil in the car. She was good at hammering nails and flipping over cards with one finger, but I doubted those skills would help. She could wake up at the same time every morning without even using an alarm clock, but that was no good because the club met at night.

She was a real genius at math. She could add up the number of times I didn't do my homework last year without even using a calculator. Let me tell you, that's a lot of adding. She could also multiply anything by 365
and come up with the right answer. That's how she figured out how many times last year she had to remind me to shut the door and wipe my shoes. It was three or four times a day times 365.

Yep, I'd figure out something. Busy as I was, I'd find a way to get Mom elected. Some people just can't do things without my help, even if they won't admit it. Anyway, finding a sneaky way to turn the tables in Mom's favor was a whole lot more interesting than writing a speech. That could be Sam's job.

Sam was smack in the middle of a good thought when we rounded the corner of Pine Street and ran right into the Lamp. I don't mean the streetlight. I mean Tiffany Wilson, the Lamp for short. That's what my great-aunt's old kitchen lamp is called. A Tiffany lamp. It's got a huge, colorful glass shade on it that looks too big for the bulb. Mom says it's really old and valuable. It just plain looks too big to me. Tiffany is the meanest girl in grade five. Heck, I take that back. Tiffany is the meanest girl in the school. Whoever said that girls can't be as mean as guys sure didn't know Tiffany.

“Well, if it isn't Sam the geek and his stupid friend Add, or is it Odd?” the Lamp sneered as she and her friends strutted toward us.

Now I don't mind being called stupid, but I hate being called Add by people like her. It's okay for Sam to call me that. That's best friend sort of stuff.

She stepped closer. Tiffany wasn't really fat. She just had this dumb way of puffing her shoulders out and prancing like a peacock to make herself look important. The only thing she looked was weird. Her hair was frizzy and so big that it looked like she was wearing a lampshade. A Tiffany lampshade.

“Shut up, Tiffany,” I said. “Go back where you came from.”

“Hi, Tiffany,” Sam said, pushing his glasses up his sweaty nose. “Add and I were just discussing our speech topics, our topics, our speeches.”

NO!! I screamed silently to Sam. Don't tell her! I don't know why Sam always tries to be nice to mean people like the Lamp. The nicer he is to her, the meaner she'll be to him because she knows she can get away with it. He just doesn't get it.

“Oh, I can't wait to hear this one,” Tiffany purred. “Let me guess—'The Stupider Side of Stupid.' Am I close? Or is it ‘The Dumber Side of Dumb'?”

Close enough for me to shove you into that puddle, I thought. Sam could read my mind. “Be careful,” he
whispered. “Her mother is the president of the astronomy club. You want your mom to get on the board, right?”

I groaned. Not only was the astronomy club weird, but it had annoying people running it. I knew Tiffany's mother, and she was just as annoying as Tiffany. That would definitely make my job a lot harder. I'd have to have a word with Mom so she could straighten out her priorities. You've gotta look at the big picture. Why would you want to join a club where you'd be around such annoying people? A nice harmless club would be better. Take the knitting club, for example. Sam's grandmother ran that one. You couldn't get any more harmless than her.

Sam stepped toward Tiffany. “Things that aren't there,” he said happily. “You get it? Things that aren't there, but they might be.”

Tiffany stared at us with her eyes bulging out of her big head.

“Things that aren't there!” she snorted. Then she choked. Her shiny red face screwed up into a big question mark.

Her friends giggled. “Look, Add,” she said. “We know you're stupid, but this is stupid even for you. What do you mean, things that aren't there?”

I'd had enough. “Well, here's a starter,” I said. “Things that aren't there. Number one...your brain!”

Tiffany's face turned even redder. “Things that aren't there,” she sputtered. “Number two...the favorite speech trophy. It's sure not going to be there in your hands with such a stupid topic!” She stormed away.

I'd forgotten about that trophy. If I had doubts about being able to come up with enough ideas for my speech topic, they were gone now. I decided that if Tiffany thought my topic was a bad idea, then it probably was a good one. I was going to win that trophy. I may not know a lot of things, but I sure know how to be stubborn.