3 Grow This Answer

CHAPTER THREE Grow This Answer Litmus Paper (noun). This is a piece of paper that has been treated with a special dye that changes color when it interacts with an acid or a base. When you dip it into a liquid, the paper will turn red if it's an acid or blue if it's a base. If only getting answers for my math test were this easy! MRS. EBERLIN SCANNED THE CLASSROOM. "For our volunteer, I'm going to pick Elijah. He's waiting very patiently with his hand up." Did that mean I wasn't patient? Probably. With a grin, Elijah strode up to the front of the classroom. "All right, here's the clue," said Mrs. Eberlin. "It will help you all figure out just where we are taking our field trip. Think of yourselves like explorers or scientists about to make a discovery." Almost everyone in the class was quiet. We studied our teacher, who stood up in front of her desk wearing an extra-big smile. "Okay, Elijah," said Mrs. Eberlin. "Open this box, take what's inside, and show the class." Elijah scooped something out of a

small cardboard box. Then he held up three capsules that looked a little bit like my dad's vitamin pills. Only they were red, green, and blue. "The capsules in Elijah's hand need the number 8.1"—Mrs. Eberlin tapped the number on the whiteboard—"in order to survive and thrive." "Huh?" Phoenix dramatically slapped her hand on her forehead. "I don't get it." "Me either," I admitted. "These capsules are weird," said Elijah as he and I exchanged looks. We had no idea what our teacher was up to. Next Mrs. Eberlin pulled little strips of purplish paper out of a jar. She waved them at us, and they made a little swishing sound. Mrs. Eberlin asked us to guess what the strips of paper were for. "Little flags," suggested Avery. "Teeth whitening," called out someone else. And then, all of a sudden, I got it. My hand shot up. Only Mrs. Eberlin called on Birdie, and I had to press my lips together to stop from blurting out the answer. "The little strips would be perfect for drawing mini cartoons," said Birdie. "For who?" asked Jeremy. "Hamsters?" A bunch of kids giggled along with Birdie.

I waved my hand in the air again. "It looks like Kate might have the answer," said Mrs. Eberlin. "Yes! Those are litmus strips," I said, "which is a fancy name for pH paper. They tell us whether something is an acid or a base. An acid is like lemon juice, and a base would be like dishwashing detergent." "Exactly right, Kate." Mrs. Eberlin gazed around the room. "Okay, so I'm choosing some new volunteers." She pointed to Avery, then to Skyler Rumsky, who loped up front with his long strides. Then to Memito and me. I yelped. "Wow-weee!" Then I raced up to Mrs. Eberlin's desk. "What are we going to be testing?" I asked. When scientists test things, they always need to do it in a very systematic way. That just means it can't be all hodgepodge. My grandma Dort in Texas uses that word. Hodgepodge means a big mess. Mrs. Eberlin brought out four beverages. "Okay, here's what you'll be testing!" She pulled out a bottle of lemonade, a Coke, a Snapple raspberry tea, a

bottled water, and four flasks. Then she prepared each flask with one of the drinks. Avery dipped the pH paper into the flask with the lemonade. It turned red. "What do you think that means?" Mrs. Eberlin asked. Pretty much everyone said it was an acid. Then I mentally noted that acid meant red. Next Skyler tested the Coke. It also turned red. Memito picked the tea. More red. "Is everything an acid?" asked Memito. "Let's test the water and find out." I dipped my paper, and it turned blue. "That means this bottled water is basic." "Exactly!" said Mrs. Eberlin. "Great job, everyone." Then she shooed us back to our seats. "So let's take a look at our results. The first three drinks turned the litmus paper red, but the bottled water turned the paper blue. Now, we already know that red means acid and blue means base, but each of these colors can also be represented by a number on something called the pH scale. On the pH scale, 1 is very acidic and 14 is very basic. Anything over 7 is considered basic." On the board, she circled 8.1. "So that number means.." "Something that is just sort of basic," said Elijah.

"Man, that kind of sounds like an insult," said Memito. He waved his fingers at Elijah. "You're basic and boring." He yawned. "Ha-ha," said Elijah. Next Mrs. Eberlin asked for one more volunteer to help with the final step. Everyone wanted to do it. But Julia got to go up. She said she hoped that she didn't mess anything up. Mrs. Eberlin and a bunch of kids assured Julia that she would do a great job. When Julia got to the front of the room, Mrs. Eberlin instructed her to put the three capsules in the water so we could see what needed the 8.1 in order to survive. That meant something that would do well in water that was slightly more basic than acidic. "You ready?" asked Mrs. Eberlin. "I hope so," said Julia uncertainly. "Should I count to ten first?" "That's a good idea," said Mrs. Eberlin. "I bet something is going to explode," said Jeremy. "You better step back. Remember that baking soda experiment?" "Or it could—poof—disappear like a magic trick," said Phoenix in a dreamy voice. "Or make a lovely rainbow," suggested Birdie. Julia counted backward from ten and then carefully dropped the capsules in the flask of water. Everyone anxiously leaned forward.

"Nothing's happening," moaned Memito. "You guys, be patient," I said. "It's science." While we were waiting, Mrs. Eberlin said she was going to hand out a code that would also help us solve the mystery. She passed out a sheet of paper. It said: dehs ot gniog. "Maybe it's in another language," said Julia. "Is it in Portuguese?" asked Phoenix. After all, our teacher grew up in Brazil. "Nope," said Mrs. Eberlin. "Portuguese is a Latin-based language, so it looks a lot like Spanish, Italian, and French." "Wait a minute," Phoenix said. "You just said Latin. Maybe it's in Pig Latin." "No, with that you move the consonant from the beginning of the word to the end of the word and add ay," I said. Dad taught us all Pig Latin just a few months ago. "So Pig Latin in Pig Latin is ig-pay atinlay." "Hmm." Elijah flipped the sheet around. He shook his head. "Reading it upside down doesn't help." "But you're onto something," said Mrs. Eberlin.