hate to tell you. Radio has already been invented.â
Mike snickered with delight. âNot just a radio.â He pulled out a dusty brown base-ball-sized potato from the bottom of his bag. âA potato-powered radio. I call itâ Potadio !â
Liz watched as Mike slowly pushed wires from the radio right into the potato. âThe acid from the potato is changed into electricity,â he said. âItâs like natureâs battery. Cool, huh?â
âNot bad,â said Liz, pulling a tissue from her pocket and blowing her nose. âCan you get hockey scores?â
Mike shrugged. âSo far it just picks up WYRD, the Groverâs Mill station. Itâs kind of faint.â
âWell, I probably wonât hear it,â mumbled Liz. âMy cold has stuffed my ears.â
The gym was starting to fill up. Mike saw Mrs. Carbonese taking surprise snap-shots for the yearbook. She wore a pink sweater and glasses on a string. Around her neck was a silver police whistle. She used it to get silence in her class.
Principal Bell was walking from table to table with his hands on his hips. Miss Lieberman, the assistant principal, was right behind him. She was making notes about everything he said.
âThereâs Jeff,â Mike said to Liz, pointing to their friend Jeff Ryan as he set up his project.
âLetâs see what heâs got,â said Liz. âBy the way, I talked to Holly last night. She and Sean built some kind of secret project. I canât wait to see it.â
The two kids stepped over to Jeffâs table just as Principal Bell strolled by.
âAhem!â boomed the principal, reading the sign on Jeffâs table. âThe Gizmo. Very good. Now, show us the magic of science! The wonder of invention! The terrific W. Reid spirit!â
âYes, sir!â Jeff smiled big and slipped a pair of goggles over his face. He tapped a button on the base of the Gizmo and cried out, âStand back!â
It was a good thing.
Zzzzz! Krrrr! Nnnn-chunka-chunka!
A sudden flash of prongs and nozzles and flippers screamed into action!
Nnnnnnn! The ceiling lights hissed and sparked and flashed as the Gizmo jumped and jumbled across the table, growling and grinding.
All the lights in the school dimmed and flickered. The machine was a blur of horrible noise!
âWhat does it do?â Liz yelled over the sound.
Jeff gave her a blank look. âDo?â
Mike nodded. âDo. What does it do? To advance science?â
Jeff shut off his machine and the lights came back up. He gave another blank look. âDo?â
âAhem!â said Mr. Bell, clearing his throat. âVery interesting. Next!â He and Miss Lieberman stepped over to another table.
âI guess I donât win anything,â Jeff sighed, pulling his goggles off and staring at the Gizmo.
Mike patted him on the shoulder. âOnly one person can win, Jeff. And Iâve gotâ Potadio.â
âActually, son,â Mr. Bell said, walking back over. âYour little radio doesnât seem to work at all.â
Mike raced over to the table. He flipped the on switch over and over. Nothing. Not a sound.
Principal Bell put his hands on his hips and frowned at the radio. âI can see you and your vegetable need a moment. Weâll be back.â
Liz leaned over to Mike. âWhy donât you just give that potato a good scrub? Itâs filthy.â
âGreat idea,â said Mike. âCanât have dirt on the invention of the century!â He unplugged Potadio and dashed down the hall and into the bathroom. He ran the potato under warm water.
Lots of dirt washed off.
Mike wondered whether the potato felt the warm water like he did. Did potatoes have feelings like people? It was alive, after all. Potatoes do grow.
What are you washing me for?
Mike chuckled to himself. Wouldnât it be weird if the potato actually said that?
âHey, kid, I asked you a
Learning to Kill: Stories