20 The Testy Test Subject

CHAPTER TWENTY THE TESTY TEST SUBJECT Experiment (noun). A scientific protocol that's used to test a hypothesis. If you think that chocolate milk tastes better with three scoops of cocoa instead of two, you'll have to test it out. "LIAM!" I CRIED. "LIAM!" I searched in the family room. Nope. No little brother in sight. Or in the garage. Or outside tossing a basketball in his little kid-sized hoop. Dribble wagged his tail and brushed up against me. "Where's Liam, Dribble?" I asked, rubbing under his chin. "Probably in his room." As I bounded upstairs, Dribble trotted after me. The hallway and the bedroom were dark. "Liam!" I called, flicking on the hall light. "I'm not here!" called Liam. I charged into his pitch-black bedroom. The shades were drawn, and there was a Liam-shaped lump under the covers. "What are you doing?"

"Pretending the power went out. Like what happened to you at drama camp. Only I can't use my flashlight to survive." "Why not?" "It doesn't have batteries." He let out a whoosh of air. "It's getting really boring in here. There's nothing to see." "Hey, I've got a great idea. And it's waaaaaay better than a fake power outage." Five minutes later, Liam sat in a kitchen chair. "Will it hurt?" he asked, pointing at the glue. Then the horn. "No, it's going to feel cool. As in literally cool and not warm." He squirmed in his chair. "Stop moving." The experiment wouldn't work unless he did. But I might as well have told him to stop breathing. "Liam, I mean it." "I can't." He leaned over and tapped his forehead. "Can't get a song out of my brain." Grabbing him by the waist, I tipped him upside down. "Now your song will fall right out of your ears," I said. He giggled and told me it dripped out of his left ear. I got him right side up again to test out the white glue. With a paintbrush, I coated his forehead

with a dab of the glue and plonked on a horn that I had made out of a paper towel roll. "Okay, now hold it in place," I urged. "At the count of ten, let go. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi—" "Why do you say Mississippi? We don't live there." "It's just the state you're supposed to say when you count, Liam." "That's not fair to the other states. Say Michigan," he insisted. "Fine." I began to count using Michigan. Only when I got to six, Liam wiggled so much that the horn slid right off. "How about you hold it until twenty-five Michigan?" I suggested. That didn't work either. Neither did one hundred Michigan. Liam said he was as bored as sitting in the dark. "Maybe you could glue it on Dribble," he said. "No. He's got fur. I've got to figure out something that will stick to people's skin." The problem had to be that my formula was water- based like Elmer's. Which meant basically any kind of moisture would mess it up. Including five-year-old kid sweat. "How about use Super Glue," suggested Liam.

"No way. You want me to pull off your skin?" "Yeah! So I can be a skeleton for Halloween." I laughed. "Only you would think of that." Checking online, I finally found a face glue that I could modify. I gathered: 1 1/2 cups water 1/2 cup cornstarch 1/4 cup corn syrup 2 teaspoons white vinegar 2 teaspoons food coloring 1/2 teaspoon glitter 1 medium bowl craft sticks Then I put everything in a saucepan over medium heat. Liam stirred constantly until it was well blended and thick. "I want to try it!" cried Liam. "First it has to cool down." I wanted the glue to blend in with the horn, so I added some yellow food coloring and glitter.

This time, we put it on the horn, and Liam held it in place for about a minute. He began to neigh. The horn didn't fall off. "Toss your head." It still didn't fall off. "Jump up and down," I instructed. "And toss your head at the same time." Liam jumped and tossed his head, yelling, "Neigh! Neigh!" Both Mom and Dad poked their heads into the kitchen. "What are you up to?" asked Dad. "I'm a unicorn," cried Liam. "And I might be one forever. Because we don't know if the horn will be stuck until I'm old and shriveled like Grandpa Jack." "That's not nice, Liam," scolded Mom. "Okay, just old and wrinkled," said Liam. "You know how to put things very pleasantly." Dad put his hands up to his face, but I could see he was grinning. "Let's all pull Liam's horn together," suggested Mom, "and see what happens." "Maybe my face will come off," said Liam hopefully. At the count of three Michigan, we pulled the horn right off. Everything was fine, except that my hands were gluey. When I went to open my bag to grab some tissues inside the side zippered

compartment, it was filled with glue. Plus, the tissues in the compartment were filled with glue. I couldn't figure out what had happened. I hadn't opened it all day. And there had never been that much glue on my hands. It was time to do some more investigating. After swiping inside the compartment with my finger, I inspected it. Just as I thought. It was the same bad unicorn glue. Avery's glue. It just had to be Avery. Again. I thought we were done with this!