4 An Educated Guess

CHAPTER FOUR AN EDUCATED GUESS Hypothesis (noun). Sometimes people call it an educated guess. That doesn't mean that a guess is super smart. It just means that you are going to make a prediction based on really checking something out. "I CAN'T BELIEVE WHAT'S HAPPENING." My fingers furiously tapped on my iPad. "I just popped ten bubbles. At once. I didn't know that was a thing." "It is a thing," said Birdie, who stood on her head across from me in our family room. Her long black hair spread like a curtain onto the beige carpet. It had been only a day since the fire breathing demo, and I was itching for a new science adventure. But I hadn't come up with anything. You really can't count Bubble Zap, although I had been practicing a lot, since it was Saturday. "This is a miracle," I said. "Since I'm awful at Bubble Zap." "And now you're a legend."

"Wait until we tell Elijah. I'm going to destroy his top score!" Pop! Pop! Pop! I continued to rack up points. But a couple of bubbles vanished before I could get them. Then all at once the game was over. "What?!!! It can't just end. I was so close. This thing is rigged!" I flung the iPad so that it bounced against a pillow, landing with a soft thud on a stack of magazines on the coffee table. Birdie snapped out of her headstand. "Hey, easy on that." Her face was firework red. The super bright kind made from a gray carbon powder called strontium carbonate. Birdie plopped next to me on the couch. "You never give up on games. What's going on?" "I should have beaten Elijah's score with those ten bubbles at once." I harrumphed. "Oh, c'mon. It's just Bubble Zap. It's so dumb they should pay us to play it." A smile crept onto my face, so I bit my bottom lip. I didn't want Birdie to stop cheering me up. I sighed like my grandma Dort.

"Seriously, what's really up?" asked Birdie softly. Flopping back against the couch, I tried to figure out the best way to explain that I'd been worrying about fall break camp all week. I really wanted to do it with Birdie and Elijah. But I didn't think there were any choices that all three of us would want to do together. "We can't do chemistry camp during fall break since Ms. Daly will be gone," I said. "But that's the only camp we'd both like. Elijah, too. And I'd miss you if I did math camp while you did art camp." "That's why you're in a bad mood?" Birdie flopped back next to me. "I'd miss you, too! I can't believe Ms. Daly is going away to St. Paul. But I'm sure we can figure out something." "I mean, Ms. Daly deserves an awesome vacation. But still. Kids need science as much as breathing. I mean, every time we"—I made a gulping sound—"breathe, it's science. Oxygen molecules going in and"—I exhaled—"carbon dioxide molecules going out."

Birdie dramatically puffed out air. "Yup. There go some molecules right now. See ya"—she waved —"have a nice life." "Not just some molecules. Billions and billions. A whole galaxy." "Wow," said Birdie. "I never thought of it that way. I'll have to sketch this galaxy." "You could during fall science camp." I hopped off the couch. "If it existed." "Wait, maybe you could run camp! If any kid could do that, it'd be you, Kate." I thought about that. I could totally run a science camp. I knew so many experiments from watching Dr. Caroline on YouTube. "Hm," I said,

pondering the idea. "I could definitely come up with some fun experiments and demos." "But probably don't do the fire breathing one." Birdie glanced at the fire extinguisher in our kitchen. "It went amazing yesterday. But that poor cactus." "Good point. But there's a glue demo I could try." "Ooh, and then we could use it to make a collage!" Birdie said. I took a deep breath. "Okay, so all I have to do is convince my mom I could lead fall break chemistry camp. Which means I need to get her in a really good mood. You came up with the perfect solution, Birdie!" Birdie took a bow. "What are best friends for?" she asked. Pacing back and forth in front of the couch, I talked to myself. "Think, Kate. C'mon. I could wash her car. Except it's already clean. She just waxed it." I tapped my head, trying to think harder. Tap. Tap. Tap. "Are you trying to pop bubbles in your brain?" joked Birdie. "I sure hope not," I said. "Hey, I got it! Mom just bought a new bag of chocolate pieces. Which means she is getting ready to bake brownies. But

with her grant due, she hasn't had time. We'll make them for her! That's perfect!" "It'll make me happy, too," said Birdie, licking her lips. We both jumped together like we were on the trampoline. Then Birdie suddenly stopped. "That's a good sign," she said. "That she bought the chocolate, I mean." Birdie was big into signs and omens. Not me. The only way to know the future was by testing out a hypothesis, which was basically an educated guess. Based on the number of bags of semisweet chocolate pieces Mom had purchased in her lifetime, especially when she was worried, I could safely guess she was craving brownies, her absolute favorite dessert. Since last night, she had been holed up in her office working on that grant for a school garden. The deadline was Monday. She wanted to name the garden in honor of a second- grade teacher, Mrs. Farwell, who was retiring this year. Super chocolaty brownies were definitely the answer. They just had to be.