9 Secrets to Keep

CHAPTER NINE Secrets to keep Metabolism (noun). A chemical process that happens in cells and organisms to convert food into energy. Or how your body converts that hot dog you ate into a cartwheel. AFTER SCHOOL, I GRABBED A chocolate chip granola bar that I hadn't eaten during lunch from my backpack. Plopping down in a chair, I considered when the best time would be to tell my parents about what happened during the Science Challenge. There didn't seem to be a good time. But it was a good time for getting some energy out. I guess you could say I was ready for an exothermic reaction. In chemistry, that's when energy is released into an environment. So I headed to the backyard to kick a soccer ball against a wooden practice wall that my dad had built for me, where I definitely released a whole bunch of energy. After that, I tried doing my math homework on the kitchen table. Only we had to answer questions about the role of base numbers versus exponents.

Like we had to explain 72 meant the same as 7 x 7. And that 7 was the base number and 2 was the exponent. Why couldn't we just have regular math homework? I would really love some busywork right now. As I stared at the blank page in my workbook, a delicious aroma filled the kitchen. On the oven top, a whole chicken and a bunch of roasted vegetables were cooling. It looked like Dad had gotten everything ready for dinner, except for setting the table, which was my job. My dog, Dribble, trotted to the oven. "Smells good, right?" I said. "It's not for you, silly. It's human food." His fluffy rust-colored tail wagged back and forth. I really shouldn't have said that word. Food. When we first adopted him last year from the animal shelter, he had the biggest appetite. And nothing's changed. He always thinks it's dinnertime. Dribble nosed over to me, and I scratched him behind the ears. I felt so guilty about even mentioning food, I plopped a handful of dog treats into his bowl. "This is your pre-dinner snack," I told him. My feeling of guilt didn't lift though. Chewing on my knuckle, I thought about the Science Challenge, Jeremy, and the detention.

I should probably tell Mom and Dad the awful details after they had eaten some of their dinner. You see, nobody in my family is easygoing when they're hungry. Not even my dog. Dribble crunched his treats down in practically one swallow. He looked at me with sad and hopeful doggy eyes. I knew exactly how he felt. I heard a chair scrape against the floor above me. Dad was in his home office going over paperwork. He's a therapist and has a ton of paperwork. That means when he's in the zone of filling out forms, I'm pretty much safe from him asking me too many questions. I glanced up at the clock on the microwave. It was already 6:15 p.m. Mom should be home any second. Ugh. Today, Mom had an extra-late meeting after school. I almost never get a ride home with her, because once school is over, she's usually at a meeting. But I do go home with her on the days I have after-school activities, like chemistry club. Or, I guess, if I get detention. I flopped back in my chair, and my thoughts spun. What if Mom already knew about the incident? What if Ms. Daly had already told her, and the entire staff at Rosalind Franklin Elementary was horrified that her usually pretty

well-behaved, science-obsessed daughter had gotten into trouble? Someone thudded into the kitchen. Someone not very big but very loud: my five-year-old brother, Liam. "Want to see my Lego ship?" he asked. It was more of a command than a question. "Sure." He dragged me into the family room, where he had an entire fleet of Lego spaceships. "See, that's the refueling station," he said, pointing to a flat gray piece with multicolored squares on it. "Wow." "And that's where they get secret weapons. They're invisible." "Uh-huh." "You're not listening." He flopped to the floor and folded his arms across this chest. He sounded and looked just like a miniature version of Dad. However, everyone knows Liam is my brother because we have the exact same hair color. Light brown with bright gold highlights. Liam made such a cute grumpy face that I laughed.

"Sorry," I said. "I'm tired." Tired of trying to figure out what to do next, that was. Suddenly, Mom peeked into the family room. I hadn't even heard her car pull up the driveway. Or the click of her heels as she headed into the house. "Are you coming down with something?" she asked, placing the back of her hand on my forehead. "You don't feel warm, Kate." "I'm fine," I said, which wasn't exactly true. "Are you sure?" she asked. I nodded my head emphatically. "Let's just keep an eye on things," she said in the quiet voice she uses when her voice is strained at the end of a long day. After Mom changed into her comfortable clothes and I set the table, it was time to eat. And for me to face the jury, aka my parents. Mom complimented Dad on the chicken. "You roasted it perfectly," she said. "Oh, and you made cauliflower rice. Thank you, honey. My fitness boot camp ladies will be proud." I really wanted this meal to speed up so I could get the bad part over with. My parents did their usual routine, asking about everyone's day. Mom asked Dad how things went at work. Since Dad's a therapist, he can't give away details

about his patients. But he can give an overview. When Dad turned to Mom and asked about her day, she looked a little pale. "It was great," she said, though her voice sounded tired. "I think our third- grade team is really onto something special with their cross-curricular use of pumpkins for everything from math to social studies. And the Fall Festival is shaping up. But—" Mom blinked. She massaged her forehead. "I've got a headache. It started in the middle of the faculty meeting. I should have grabbed something for it. But I didn't." She winced. "I think it's getting worse. It's all the budget stuff at school coupled with the Fall Festival planning." "The Fall Festival!" cried Liam. "Can we go! Can we?" "Of course," said Dad, "but right now let's use our inside voice. Mom's not feeling so great." Mom winced, almost apologetically. I wasn't the one not feeling well. It was Mom. Dad immediately got up to dim the lights. "Honey, I'm sorry. You should have told me." He turned to look at me and Liam. "Be right back. I'm getting your mother something." He went upstairs and returned with a couple of Tylenol. "Here you go."