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said.
    â€œOh, you have no idea how creepy and annoying that toy is,” I said.
    Taylor stood up slowly, his chair making a loud screeching noise on the tile floor. He stared at me, lips trembling, eyes blinking with anger.
    He walked slowly out of the kitchen.
    â€œWhat a weirdo,” I said to Mom with an uneasy smile.
    She sighed. “He’s just upset,” she said.
    â€œHe’s not used to sharing the limelight,” Dad agreed, shoveling in a spoonful of beans while staring at the photo of Amp’s rear end.
    â€œWell, he’ll probably win tomorrow’s science fair anyway,” I said, trying to sound like the concerned older brother. “He’ll get over it soon, I’m sure.”

15
    Showtime
    W ednesday’s science fair arrived without any further drama.
    My experiment was bolted to a table next to Davey Swope’s volcano and across from Max Myers’s head-butting meter. At the time, I wasn’t sure why Amp insisted on securing it to something heavy, but at that point I was more interested in watching Davey and Max scramble to fix their projects, neither of which were working properly still. Max Myers was literally turning red with frustration. I avoided making eye contact.
    Olivia’s experiment was two rows over. It was her attempt to prove the “three-second rule” was just a myth and not real science.
    The three-second rule applies to those times when you drop something you’re about to eat on the floor. If you can pick it up within three seconds, it’s supposed to be safe to eat. Olivia’s display showed different types of mold growing on slices of whole wheat bread. It was gross. I think even Olivia would admit her experiment was a bit of a downer.

    The school gym was crowded. Parents, students, and other adults I couldn’t identify wandered up and down the aisles examining the different science experiments. It was thunderously loud and the atmosphere was surprisingly festive. My parents came by and took my picture, but I hadn’t seen them since.
    The judges—Principal Luntz; Mrs. Bird, our school nurse; and a guy named Edward G. Prentiss—were stopping at each display for a quick demonstration. Edward G. Prentiss had once been a student at Reed School and was now a big shot in business and science. Every year he volunteered to help pick our school’s winner.
    While the three judges strolled the aisles, I showed curious kids and parents how my electromagnet could pick up paper clips. I answered all their questions and was surprised at how easily I could discuss magnetism. I even explained to people how Earth was like a big magnet.
    I was always careful to press only the first of my experiment’s three buttons. I’d wait for the judges before I kicked it up a notch and hit the second button. Amp had told me to hit the third button only if I really needed it.
    I did not plan on hitting the third button under any circumstances.
    I was making sure my zipper was zipped when I was tapped on the shoulder. Judging time!
    Mr. Prentiss looked first. He read all the paperwork I had mounted on the trifold cardboard standing up behind my electromagnet. He seemed to get more curious as he read. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod a few times.
    I waited and smiled uncomfortably as Mrs. Bird urgently scribbled notes on a clipboard. Principal Luntz seemed amazed the whole thing hadn’t collapsed yet.
    â€œAny relation to Taylor McGee?” Mr. Prentiss asked me.
    â€œHe’s my little brother,” I said. Mr. Prentiss nodded, as if he already knew this and was just confirming it.
    â€œWhy choose iron for the core of your electromagnet?” Mr. Prentiss asked, turning suddenly to me, looking intently into my eyes. “Why not copper or steel or tin?”
    â€œWell, all metals react differently to magnetic fields,” I said. “Iron happens to be ideal, because it multiplies the magnetic field