Addison Addley and the Things That Aren't There (8 page)

I had to think fast. “She was probably just there to put up flyers for the school fundraiser,” I said. It could have been true. There really was going to be a fundraiser, and Mrs. Wilson was sure to be in charge of it.

“I bet she's not interested in that organic stuff at all,” I continued. “Actually, I'm pretty sure of it. I heard her say she wouldn't touch that organic stuff if you paid her to. She says it's a total waste of money.” I didn't mention the fact that Mrs. Wilson had only been talking about the punch. Some things are better left unsaid.

“Well, keep working on those numbers and see if we can cut some corners,” Mom said as she headed out the back door. “I'm going to go take a peek at the stars. I can't wait to borrow the telescope at the next meeting!” She practically floated outside.

Great. A telescope. Old starlight. Black holes. Wormholes.

Just what I needed. That's how this whole mess started in the first place, looking for things that weren't there. Maybe I could talk Mom into buying a new video game with spaceships and aliens instead. She'd have lots of stars to look at then.

I finished up the page I was working on and went upstairs to bed. Boy, was I tired. My brain wasn't used to working that hard. I was sure I'd be seeing numbers all night in my sleep.

Maybe I could get Sam to help me out the next day. I'd come up with a really incredible plan to make this
number stuff easier. Heck, that budget would practically write itself. After all, I'd already proven that two heads are better than one.

I turned on the tap to brush my teeth. I gave them a quick scrub. I did my usual thing. I was just going to shut off the water when I decided to brush them a little longer, just this once. Who knows, just because I couldn't see those disgusting little germs, it didn't mean that they weren't really there. They might be just like dog whistles and wormholes. Like I said before, you've got to have an open mind about these things. Or at least half of one.

Melody DeFields McMillan grew up in the countryside in southwestern Ontario and now lives in Simcoe, not far from where she grew up. As well as being a writer, she is a teacher and the mother of a daughter and a son. When she isn't writing, she is enjoying nature.

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