12 Accidents Happen

CHAPTER TWELVE ACCIDENTS HAPPEN Solution (noun). When a solvent (milk) dissolves a solute (cocoa powder), you create a solution. In this case, a solution is something you drink, not an answer to a math problem. THE WARM WATER DIDN'T DO THE TRICK. I paced. I tapped my head. Think, Kate. Think. Think! Wait a minute. Instead of just thinking, I needed to gather evidence. Make observations. This time I opened the bag all the way and set it under the bright lights on the kitchen counter. I could see that some of the glue had softened. But not enough. Maybe I just needed to keep the hot rag on the glue longer. This time, I let the glue soften with the rag for a long time. A while later, it was time to test out my hypothesis. When I checked the bag, I was able to rinse it all off! Yes. Yes. Yes. My hunch had been right. But now the fabric was all wet.

Racing upstairs to the bathroom, I grabbed a hair dryer from the cabinet. Liam knocked around in his bedroom. After I had mentioned cleaning earlier, he had escaped upstairs. "What are you doing?" he called out. "Nothing," I lied as I hustled back downstairs. Well, not exactly a lie. Because after my cleaning and drying, I would be doing nothing. As the hair dryer roared on, Mom stepped into the kitchen. "What's going on in here?" Her eyes lasered on her bag spread open on the kitchen counter. And the hair dryer. I turned off the dryer. "Your bag got a little wet. And gluey. But I took care of it." "Oh, Kate." Her eyebrows knitted together in concern. "I had hoped you'd be more responsible. That you were old enough to take care of the bag." "Mom, I'm super sorry! It was an accident." "You have to think. You can't always be in such a rush." I was going to protest. But I was the one who didn't check to see if the bottle of glue in my emergency kit had been closed tightly.

"I'd like an explanation," Mom said in her firm principal voice. It was too eerily calm. Her dark brown eyes bored into mine, like she could read my thoughts. If Mom had a superpower, it would definitely be mind reading. I blurted out everything that had happened. How I had discovered the gluey mess in her backpack. How upset I had been. How much I had wanted to tell her, but she had seemed so happy about the grant. "Don't worry," I said, trying to sound 100 percent more confident than I felt. "It'll be fine." Her eyes took in the darkened spots on the lining. "Really?" "Okay, maybe not perfect. But almost." Mom combed her fingers through her hair. It was super short with blonde highlights. Once she became principal last year, she said she didn't want to fuss with her long hair. That meant she didn't want any extra problems. Right now, I was her problem. I hated disappointing her in any way. I blinked back tears. "I'm so sorry, Mom. Really. I hope this doesn't hurt your chances." "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lash out. It's just that I counted on you being careful. Oh, honey." She placed her hand on my shoulder. "It's

always something, isn't it? Thanks for making such an effort to clean it up. I'm sure it'll be dry by the morning." Furrowing her brow, she inspected the lining. "The grant committee won't be inspecting the inside of the bag anyway. In the future, just try to keep things safer." "I will. You can count on it!" Mom pulled me in for a hug. She smelled like coffee and sweet cream. She always knew how to make me feel better. Soon after project bag cleanup, Birdie came over and asked if I wanted to ride bikes. Of course I did! After I caught her up on the conversation with Mom, we rode over to Oak Bend Pond. It was the perfect antidote to what happened. Being outside in nature always calms me down. Setting our bikes against a large oak tree, I noticed that the trees had changed colors. When I squinted my eyes, the gold, red, and orange leaves looked like dancing flames in the wind. As the branches swayed, I heard blue jays chittering.

The breeze picked up and blew ripples across the pond. When you think pond, you might get the wrong idea. It was actually a medium-sized lake—forty-two feet deep and over three hundred acres. There were deer, fox and herons, owls and muskrats. Tall silvery cattails framed the shoreline. "I love this place," I said, picking up a speckled rock to skip. It felt smooth and cool in my hand. "Me too," said Birdie, sighing happily. "Didn't you think the play read-through went well?" "Yes, definitely." "Good. I just wish Avery wasn't so cranky about being dragon dance captain. It makes no sense. It's a good part. Two songs and two dances. Plus, she's doing the choreography." "Maybe she's in a bad mood because her braces got tightened," I said. "In soccer practice, she was complaining about it." "Yeah, could be." "I know Avery's parents have that fog smoke machine thingy, but I'm going to figure out how to make dragons breathe smoke. So it looks like it's spurting out of their mouths." "You could really do that?" asked Birdie, her eyes wide. "I think so."

"That would be so cool." Birdie picked up a flat gray pebble, perfect for skipping. "Thanks for forcing me to do the play. I think it's going to be fun. Even if it meant I got my mom's bag full of glue." "You're welcome," said Birdie, who skipped her rock so it zigzagged across the lake. "Now, that's a good sign," she said with a wink.