Free Tj and the Rockets by Hazel Hutchins Page B

wonderful projects. We weren’t. We had Ms. K.
    But we liked Ms. K.! We liked her a lot! We had her last year, and everyone asked to be in her class again when she moved up to the next grade. If we could just make the science fair go away, everything would be fine.
    Ms. K. took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.
    â€œI’m sure you’ll all come up with excellent projects,” she said. “Let’s get out our books.”
    She was acting brave, but everyone could tell that even she was worried. Being a witch and
knowing
things is different from being a scientist and helping someone build a solar-powered radio.
    â€œI told you,” I said to Seymour after class. “We all have to be in the science fair. Even being sick for the rest of the year doesn’t count.”
    â€œI didn’t say I wasn’t going to be in the science fair,” said Seymour. “I just said I wasn’t doing a regular project.”
    â€œWhat
are
you doing?” I asked.
    â€œI’ve got to go to the library first,” said Seymour. “I’ll tell you at the store later.”
    The store is my mom and dad’s hardware store. It’s not a big place, but they’ve always wanted to run their own business and they’re really proud of it.
    Thursdays after school and Saturday afternoons I take care of the pet supplies; that’s my department. After that I help wherever else I’m needed. I’m not old enough for it to be “officially” a job, but it’s pretty much the same except I only do it because I want to. That day a big order had come in, and Mr. G., who started working at the store about two months ago, helped me carry out the boxes.
    I like Mr. G. He jokes with everybody while he works. He joked with a carpenter about buying a board stretcher (a board stretcher almost sounds like it might be a real tool—until you think about it). He even got a smile out of a lady with frizzy gray hair and a frizzy gray knitting bag while he sold her a bar of soap.
    â€œWhere’s your excitable friend today?” asked Mr. G. as he brought out the last of the boxes.
    â€œLiving dangerously at the library,” I said.
    Mr. G. laughed and headed home for the day.
    Talking about Seymour made me think about the science fair again. So did seeing Amanda’s mom when she came in to buy diet food for their cat. After that I ducked into a side aisle to avoid Mr. Wilson, who walked by with six boxes of batteries that were on sale. Someone in his class was probably going to build a giant electromagnet that could lift small locomotives. How could I
not
think about the science fair?
    â€œTJ, have you seen the radio alarm clock we had, the one with the giant snooze button?”
    Mom was standing at the end of the aisle. She was holding her mouth funny, the way she does when something is bugging her, but she wants to pretend it isn’t. What was going on?
    â€œNope,” I said. “But I can look for it.”
    Mom nodded. “Thanks,” she said. “I don’t remember it going through the till.”
    I walked around the store to look for the alarm clock. Sometimes customers pick something up and leave it somewhere else. I was in the household section when Seymour showed up. Books stuck out the top of his backpack, and he had a strange look in his eye. Mr. G. thought I was joking about the library being a dangerous place, but in Seymour’s case it’s true.
    â€œIt’s an even better idea than I thought!” he announced.
    He picked up a flyswatter and began smacking the shelf.
    â€œA schoolteacher invented this a hundred years ago. The little holes let the air pass through. No one’s ever invented anything better for swatting flies.”
    Mom and Dad like Seymour, but they don’t like it when he starts being loud in the store. I took away the flyswatter. Seymour picked up a couple of can-openers and began waving them