29
By the time Heather finished breakfast, finished picking up her room to her mom’s satisfaction, and made her way to the Smythes’, the morning was halfway gone. It really was absurd that she found herself annoyed by the delay. Her mother did so much for her on a daily basis; it was only right that Heather pitch in and help a little. But today, she just couldn’t help feeling put out.
Mark opened the door with a look of surprise on his square face. “Well, I thought you blew us off.”
Heather shrugged. “House cleaning.”
“You?” Mark’s laugh only added to her annoyance.
“Where’s Jen?”
“Garage. She got tired of waiting. Said she wanted to make some final system checks before we take it apart and crate it.”
Heather nodded as she headed for the kitchen and the door, which opened from there into the Smythe garage. This was the weekend when they had to have everything crated for shipment to Denver, the site of the final competition for the national high school science contest. Their cold fusion entry had breezed through the regional competition. Now it was on to the big show.
Heather had read all the write-ups about the other finalists and their projects. From what she had seen, none of them could hold a candle to what Mark, Jennifer, and she had done. Not only did their project work spectacularly, their report was first-rate. As far as Heather was concerned, victory was in the bag. Just so long as they didn’t screw it up.
As expected, Jennifer sat at the terminal, her fingers flying across the keyboard, her face lit by the twinkle of multicolored LED light, completely oblivious to Heather’s entry into the garage. It was amazing. Jen no longer glanced at the laptop display, instead focusing her gaze upon her custom-made LED board attached to the lead side of the cold fusion tank, the colors showing the internal contents of the registers. She was thinking in hexadecimal.
“Earth to Doc.” Mark’s loud voice brought Jennifer’s face around, a look of annoyance tightening the corners of her mouth. Despite her best efforts, Heather laughed out loud.
“What?”
Heather shrugged. “Jen, I’m sorry Mark interrupted you so crudely.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And I’m sorry I laughed,” Heather continued. “It’s just that Mark provokes you into some pretty funny expressions.”
Mark leaned in, a sly grin on his face. “And I’m just as sorry as Heather is.”
Heather’s elbow caught him in the stomach before he had a chance to tighten it, producing an audible exhalation of air, a sound that finally brought a smile to Jennifer’s lips.
“Since you’re finally here, come over and take a look at these readouts.”
Heather walked around the equipment to stand behind Jennifer’s swivel chair. Her eyes swept the numbers that filled the spreadsheet on the laptop screen. Now here was something with which she was completely comfortable. The equipment was performing far better than would normally be expected. Between Heather’s slight modifications to the theoretical equations and Jennifer’s magical command of computers, their final touches looked complete.
Heather straightened. “Looks great.”
Mark raised his hands in a hallelujah salute. “Good. Let’s bag it and tag it.”
Jennifer nodded in agreement.
The rest of the day passed in a flurry of activity. Every piece of the apparatus had to be carefully tagged with a number and listed on diagrams before disassembly. Then, carefully packaged, the parts were placed in a set of crates. By the time a copy of the diagrams and inventory list had been placed in the last of the crates and Mark had nailed the lid closed, Heather was exhausted.
“My God,” Heather gasped. “Are we really done?”
“Oh, shit, we left something out.” A look of horror spread across Mark’s face.
As Jennifer and Heather’s panicked gazes swept the room for what they had missed, a chuckle brought their heads back around.
Mark’s grin was ear to ear. “Oh, your faces are priceless.”
This time Mark was ready, moving aside just in time to dodge Heather’s elbow. Unfortunately, his sidestep exposed his upper arm to Jennifer’s flying fist.
“Ow. Hey, Doc! That hurt.”
“Serves you right.” Jennifer’s angry gaze showed no sign of softening.
Heather clenched her teeth. “Mark, sometimes you’re not nearly as funny as you think you are. That was just mean.”
Before Mark could respond, Jennifer stormed from the garage. Mark glanced down at his arm, raising his short sleeve to examine it. Seeing his look of amazement, Heather leaned in for a look.
As incredible as it seemed, Jennifer’s punch was raising a deep blue bruise in the hard muscle of Mark’s neurally enhanced shoulder.