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apologetically.
"You're not making bombs, are you? My mother always thinks Bernie's making bombs," she told me.
When she turned to me, Bernie finally looked my way, and his face filled with interest. "Who's this?"
"Our new neighbor, Bernie. If you hadn't jumped down my throat, I would have been able to introduce you."
"I'm sorry," he said, turning to me. "Hello." "Hello. I'm sorry we interrupted you, but . ." "It's all right." He looked embarrassed.
"Of course it's all right. What could Bernie be doing that can't be interrupted?" Helga asked.
"Whatever it is, it's important to him," I remarked dryly. She smirked, but Bernie's face softened. "You just moved here?" he asked.
"If you didn't have your nose in a test tube all the time, you would have known about her," Helga said. "Her name is Crystal, and the Morrises adopted her."
"Oh?" he said, his lips forming a little circle as he gazed at me with even more interest.
"She was an orphan," Helga added. She stepped back to look at me. They both stared a moment, neither speaking.
"That's orphan, not alien;' I said, and Bernie smiled.
"She reads a lot, and she's very smart," Helga continued. "Maybe even smarter than you, Bernie. That's why I thought you two should meet."
"Really?" he said, his interest in me growing even more.
"This was her idea. I'm sorry we bothered you." I started to turn away.
"Hey. That's okay," he called. "Come on in."
"Bernie's inviting us in," Helga said, raising her eyebrows. "You going to show us your laboratory, Bernie?"
"I don't have a laboratory," he snapped at her. She laughed. He turned to me. "Helga and her friends are always making stuff up about me."
"No, we don't, Bernie," she said. "Anyway, if we do, you should be honored we talk about you."
"Some honor," Bernie said. He stepped back, and Helga gestured emphatically for me to follow her into the house. I did.
Right away, I saw that Bernie's parents had a lot of money. There were paintings all over the walls, and the rooms were very big and full of expensivelooking furnishings. In the hallway to his room was a glass case filled with figurines. The floors were all covered with carpet so soft I felt as if I were walking on marshmallows.
Bernie's room was twice, maybe three times as big as mine. He had a large desk, a computer, and all sorts of hardware. I recognized a scanner and two printers. He even had his own fax machine. One wall was covered with charts that included the anatomy of the human body, a breakdown of the planets and some galaxies, an evolution time line, and a historical summary of American presidents and vice presidents with a listing of major events during their terms.
On the right were shelves that held a
microscope, slides, scales, and even a Bunsen burner. I saw chemistry sets and shelves and shelves of reference books. What didn't he have? I wondered.
"You see?" Helga said. "He has a laboratory in his room."
"It's not a laboratory. I have a few things to develop my interests," he said defensively. "I want to get into genetic research someday."
"I don't even know what that means:' Helga said.
He frowned and shook his head. "You know what this is?" he asked me, pointing to what looked like a Tinker Toy.
"Yes," I said. "It's a model of DNA."
"Right!" he said, his face becoming more animated than it had been since we met.
"What's DNA?" Helga asked.
"It has to do with genetics," Bernie said quickly. "You want to look at this? I put this together myself," he told me, and I drew closer.
"Don't you have a CD player or something in here?" Helga asked.
"No," he said quickly.
"Well, how do you listen to music?" she demanded. "I listen on my computer when I want to listen to music:' he said, and turned his back on her.
"This is like being back in school," she complained. "Not one movie poster, not one rock star poster, just all this . . . this educational stuff."
"It's very good:' I said, nodding at his model. He beamed with pride.
"Come on, Crystal," Helga said. "I'll show you the rest