Read Brendan Buckley's Sixth-Grade Experiment for Free Online Page A

only shared the same homeroom, we also had our first two classes together—pre-algebra and computer keyboarding—
and
we were locker neighbors. She
would
have to have a last name that started with
B
. The first time I saw her getting things out of the locker next to mine, I hung back, waiting for her to leave.
    By the time third-period science rolled around and I still hadn’t talked to Morgan, I felt like a moldy sandwich—the guilt was eating at me like a fungus on bread. I tried to forget about it as I joked around with Khal on the way to Mr. Hammond’s class. Khal and I had gone to different elementary schools—we’d met at Tae Kwon Do—so he didn’t know Mr. H. “You’re really going to like him. His two favorite foods are chocolate and Coke.”
    My arms swung free and easy. I had my brand-newspiral-bound science notebook in my hand. And I was walking toward my favorite teacher’s class for my favorite subject with my best friend. Life couldn’t get any better than this.
    The science room door was closed. Black paper covered the window. A sign on the glass said LABORATORY OF MAD SCIENTIST HAMMOND. ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK ! A hand-drawn lightning bolt was electrocuting a stick-figure person—some poor sixth grader who hadn’t taken the proper precautions.
    Inside, several kids sat in pairs behind long tables, all facing the counter and whiteboard at the front of the room. Mr. Hammond had his back to the door, talking to someone. I was dying to talk to Mr. H, too, but I’m not the kind of person who goes up to people when they’re already speaking with someone else. Gladys would, but not me.
    Khal and I sat at an empty table. I opened my notebook, which was full of blank pages just waiting to be filled with observations, data, and sources. Tables, charts, and graphs. Questions, hypotheses, and conclusions.
    I wrote my name and “Mr. Hammond—3rd Period Science” on the first page. I had just started to write “Lab Notebook” when the person Mr. H had been talking to laughed. I already knew whose giggle it was, but I looked anyway. Morgan. A little bug of jealousy crawled up my neck.
Don’t be stupid
, I thought.
Mr. Hammond was your teacher for a whole year. She just met him today
.
    Morgan looked a lot happier than she had all morning. She had a big, goofy smile on her face. She came out from behind the counter and sat in the first row next to Aadesh Kapur, who everyone called Dash, because it sounded sort of like the second half of his first name but also because he had been the fastest kid in the fifth grade. He was also the brainiest. He and Morgan would get along well.
    The bell rang and a few more kids rushed in. Without saying a word, Mr. Hammond pulled out a green balloon and began blowing it up. He tied it off, then blew up a red one. It grew bigger and bigger.
    â€œPop,” Jaivier Brown said, breaking the tense silence. A couple of girls giggled. I sat forward in my chair, eager to see what Mr. H would do next.
    â€œMorgan, would you assist me, please?”
    The jealousy bug wormed around inside my chest.
    Morgan got that goofy smile on her face again and went to the front.
    â€œI need one more assistant. Brendan …”
    The jolt of hearing my name made my face tingle and my heart race. I jumped up and hurried forward like a contestant on Gladys’s favorite game show,
The Price Is Right
.
    Mr. H handed me the green balloon, to which he’d tied a string. He gave the red balloon, also on a string, to Morgan. “If you would be so kind as to rub these latex spheres on your heads.” He motioned to the balloons.
    I hesitated. Rub a balloon on my head? I knew what would happen if I did that. I’d have one giant Afro. But for Mr. H, I’d do it.
    We both started rubbing.
Scritch, scritch, scritch
. Morgan’s hair jumped up and stuck to the balloon. I could feel the static electricity