Billy Sure, Kid Entrepreneur and the Best Test Page 4

  “Uh-huh,” I say when I have finally picked up all the paper. I feel like I’m holding a GIANT SNOWBALL in my arms. I stuff the paper into Emily’s recycle bin. It barely fits.

  Emily holds the Best Test, turning it to check it out from all sides. “I can’t wait to take this to school!” she says.

  Oh no! I snatch the device from Emily’s hands. “You can’t take this to school,” I explain. “It’s my only prototype, and I need to test it lots more, tweak it, and fine tune it before we can move into the manufacturing and marketing phases.”

  Emily ignores my comments and sighs.

  “But . . . thanks for agreeing to be my first test subject.”

  “Hmph,” is all she says. As I back out of her room I see one side of her mouth lifting into a small smile.

  I hurry to my room where I shoot off a quick e-mail to Manny, telling him that the first test of the prototype was a success.

  • • •

  The next day I write to my mom.

  I fill her in on the Best Test and the fact that Emily volunteered to be the first test subject. I know Mom always likes it when we get along. Guess what Emily is best at? I write. Telling people their flaws! If that doesn’t prove that my invention works, I don’t know what will!

  Back at school on Monday I’m swarmed by the members of the inventors club, who are still wearing their Billy Sure shirts (I really hope they washed them) and eager to tell me about their progress.

  “Hey, Billy, I covered my spinach in maple syrup!” says one boy. He holds up a plastic bag filled with a combo of dissolving green goo and sticky brown liquid.

  “Uh, I would rethink that approach,” I say.

  “Billy, I put my spinach in the microwave for fifteen minutes!” says the girl with the Billy Sure cap.

  The worst of all is Samantha.

  “Hey, Billy! I can’t figure out how to make spinach taste good, but I bought you these chocolates!” she screeches.

  Oh man, all I want to do is get to class. But, still, these kids look up to me. I have to be encouraging. And they really are kind of sweet—just a little enthusiastic (okay, a lot enthusiastic). When I open Samantha’s chocolates, I see there’s a poem called “Billy Makes My Heart Silly!” tucked in there.

  The rest of the day goes pretty well. A few kids that weren’t at the first club meeting come up to me in the cafeteria and start to talk about their ideas for inventions. I suggest that they come to the next meeting. They say that they will.

  That afternoon at the office, I unveil the fully-working Best Test prototype for Manny.

  “Sweet!” he says, looking it over. “And, hey, if it doesn’t work, we can always make SPAGHETTI!”

  All right, maybe I should have seen that one coming, since the heart of the device is a colander. And I’m always happy when Manny is in a good mood.

  “Very funny,” I say, powering up the Best Test. “Let’s see what you are best at, Mr. Spaghetti. Put it on your head.”

  Manny places the Best Test onto his head. “I’m ready, Best Test,” he says. A loud whirring sound fills the office, followed by flashing and ringing.

  And then the printer starts printing . . . and printing . . . and printing. Once again a huge ream of paper spews from the device.

  “Gee, I must be good at a lot of things for the Best Test to need so much paper to list all of them!” Manny quips.

  “Don’t get too excited,” I say, gathering up the endless paper. “The same thing happened when I tested it on Emily. My main task for today is to fix the printer part of the device.” The Best Test stops. I wend my way to the end of all that paper and find a single sentence printed on the bottom. It reads: Manny Reyes is best at math and computer science.

  “Well, it works!” Manny says, popping the Best Test off his head and handing it back to me. He looks around at the mountain of paper on the floor. That’s my cue to start fixing the printer.

  I find an adding machine—an old calculator that prints out numbers—in one of my boxes of goodies and pull out the printer section. Then I pull a roll of thin paper used for printing the fortunes on fortune cookies—seriously, what is Manny buying—and connect the two. After about half an hour, I’m ready to do another test.

  “Who should we try it on next?” I ask.

  “My parents are both home now,” Manny points out. “Why don’t we try it on them?”

  I grab the device, and we head into Manny’s house.

  “Mom! Dad! Billy’s here!” Manny shouts.

  Watson, Manny’s big gray cat, greets us, rubbing up against my legs and purring loudly. A few seconds later Manny’s mom and dad meet us in the kitchen.

  “IT’S THE GREAT INVENTOR!” booms Manny’s dad. “What have you cooked up this time, Billy?”

  “It’s called the Best Test,” Manny explains as I set up the device. “You put it on your head and it tells you what you are best at.”

  I finish making some adjustments to the helmet and hold it up. “Okay, who wants to go first?” I say.

  “I will,” says Manny’s mom. “What do I have to do?”

  “Just sit in this chair and I’ll place the Best Test onto your head,” I explain. “When you’re ready, say ‘I’m ready.’ Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing.”

  I place the helmet onto her head. The device hums to life. The printer starts buzzing, only this time a thin strip of paper comes out about two inches and stops. Looks like the printing problem is fixed! I tear the small strip of paper off and read:

  “ ‘Alma Reyes is best at keeping people’s feet healthy.’ ”

  Perfect! After all, she’s a podiatrist.

  “Wow, that’s amazing!” she says as I take the helmet off her head. “I cannot stress enough the importance of removing dead skin, of scraping cuticles, and of regular foot maintenance.”

  “Mom!” Manny whines. “You know how that stuff grosses me out!”

  “Your turn, Mr. Reyes,” I say to Manny’s dad.

  I place the helmet onto his head. “I’m ready!” he announces. After a few moments of what has quickly become a smooth routine, the Best Test spits out another small strip of paper.

  “ ‘David Reyes is best at telling stories about the past,’ ” I read aloud.

  “Remarkable!” exclaims Mr. Reyes.

  I agree, since Mr. Reyes is a history teacher!

  “That machine is right on target,” Mr. Reyes continues. “Learning from the past may be the most important thing we can do to pave the way for a brighter future.”

  I had never thought about history that way. It’s kinda fun. Manny, on the other hand, rolls his eyes and lifts the helmet from his dad’s head.

  I start to gather up the Best Test so we can head back to the office and wrap things up for the day.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “I’d say you boys have another winner on your hands,” says Mr. Reyes. A big smile spreads across his broad face.

  I’d have to agree.

  The Club Meets Again

  I WAKE UP the next morning feeling energized. I always get this way when a new prototype is a success. It means that Manny can now do what he does best and turn my idea into a REALITY.

  I check my computer and see that Mom replied to my e-mail. This day keeps getting better. I settle at my desk to read her response.

  Hi, honey, thanks for your wonderful e-mail. I am so thrilled that you and Emily are getting along and even more pleased that she volunteered to be your first test subject! I’m laughing at how accurate your Best Test is, stating that what Emily is best at is telling people their flaws. Looks like you have another success on your hands, and I couldn’t be more proud. I’m also curious. I’d love to try out the Best Test sometime! Gotta run. Love you lots.

  Mom

  Mom’s e-mail gives me an idea. Maybe I’ll bring the prototype to the next meeting of the inventors club. The kids in the club are all fans of my inventions. I think they’ll get a kick out of having a SNEAK PEEK at Sur
e Things Inc.’s Next Big Thing. And it might be fun to find out what they are best at.

  • • •

  With the prototype up and running, the next few days are filled with marketing and production discussions at the office. In other words, Manny talks nonstop, showing me charts and spreadsheets, and I nod a lot.

  Among the many things I’ve learned from the whole Sure Things, Inc. experience is just how important it is to trust your partner. Manny and I make such a good team, because we are each best at totally different things. He trusts that I can turn new ideas into actual inventions, and I trust that all those numbers, graphs, and projections actually mean something important.

  The day of the second meeting of the Fillmore Middle School Inventors Club arrives. I pack the Best Test prototype into a large cardboard box that Manny got when his latest junk shipped, and label it PAPER TOWELS. I want to keep the prototype a secret until the meeting.

  When the last bell rings, I grab the box and scoot to the science lab. This time everyone has taken a seat and is patiently waiting for me. I notice about five people who weren’t at the first meeting. The club seems to be catching on, which makes me even more psyched about showing off the Best Test.

  “Hi, everyone,” I say. “I’m Billy Sure.”

  The room breaks into spontaneous applause. I thought maybe everyone had gotten over the whole Billy Sure fan club thing, but I guess not.

  As the applause dies down, I place the paper towel box onto the desk in the front of the room. “I have something I think you’ll all like,” I announce. “I brought the prototype for Sure Things, Inc.’s latest invention to the club meeting today, and I’d like to share it with you.”

  “Did you invent a new kind of paper towel?” one boy asks.

  “Can it absorb, like, a whole lake?” asks the girl in the Billy Sure baseball cap.

  “Or maybe you’ve invented psychic paper towels that know when you’re going to spill something and roll out to catch spills as they happen!” shouts a boy wearing a T-shirt with a picture of Thomas Edison with a lightbulb over his head.

  This is getting out of hand.

  “Actually,” I say, “this is just the box I used to carry the invention.” I pull the Best Test prototype out of the box and set it on the desk.

  “Is it a new way to make spaghetti?” shouts a girl from the back of the room.

  Why did I have to use a colander? I think for the hundredth time.

  “This is Sure Things, Inc.’s next invention—the Best Test,” I say proudly. The room grows very quiet. “What this device does is tell you what you are best at. And, if I can get some volunteers, I’d like to try it out on some of you.”

  About half the people in the room raise their hands and shout: “Me! Pick me! TEST IT ON ME!” The other half slip their hands under their desks and look down, to be sure that they are not mistaken for someone volunteering.

  I randomly pick three kids to try the Best Test. Okay, maybe not so random. I pick the first boy because he is one of the few kids in the class not wearing any Billy Sure apparel.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “Timothy,” the boy replies.

  “Now, sit right here, Timothy,” I say, turning a chair around so it faces the rest of the class. I explain how it works and slip it onto his head. After a few seconds of the now-familiar whirring, humming, flashing, and ringing, a slip of paper prints out what he is best at.

  “ ‘Timothy Bu is best at counting steps,’ ” I read to the class. A murmur of laughter ripples through the room.

  “That’s true!” Timothy says as I take the helmet off his head. “I’ve taken four thousand, two hundred and fifty-six steps today.”

  “Thank you, Timothy,” I say as he returns to his desk.

  “Four thousand, two hundred and sixty-seven!” he calls out once he sits down.

  It’s now that I realize the Best Test is not necessarily going to tell everyone what he or she should be doing for the rest of his or her life.

  Next up is Samantha. I had to pick her, mostly because when I ask for volunteers, she waves her arms everywhere. She puts the helmet on and giggles. “I’m so, so, sooooo ready, new Billy Sure invention!” she squeals. A few seconds later the results come out.

  “ ‘Samantha Jenkins is best at watching TV.’ ”

  “Wow!” she says, a big smile spreading across her face. “I can’t wait to tell my mom!”

  My third test subject is a sixth grader named Clayton. He’s actually a random choice. His shirt is buttoned up to his neck and it’s tucked tightly into his pants.

  Clayton sits down and I slip the helmet onto his head. Out comes the paper:

  “ ‘Clayton Harris is best at going to the dentist,’ ” I read.

  Clayton smiles. “I love going to the dentist. My dentist has the best purple lollipops, and I get a new toothbrush each time I go!” he crows.

  “Well, I guess someone has to be the best at going to the dentist,” I tell Clayton. I try to give him my most encouraging smile. Clayton smiles back up at me. And I can’t help but notice that he really does have great teeth.

  As I start to pack up the Best Test I hear a grunting sound out in the hall. Looking toward the door, I see two boys—I recognize them from the first club meeting—trying to squeeze a mattress through the doorway.

  They finally manage to get it into the room and set it next to my desk.

  “Sorry we’re late,” says one of the boys. “It took a while to get the mattress here.”

  “Um, what’s it for?” I ask.

  “We know that you do your best inventing in your sleep,” says the other boy. “And since no one has had any luck inventing a way to make spinach taste good, we thought maybe you could fall asleep and invent it for us.”

  “That’s not exactly how it works,” I say. “You see, I—”

  Cries of: “Please, Billy!” “Come on, Billy!” “Help us, Mr. Sure!” cut me off.

  “All right,” I say, trying to be open to what the club members want. “I’ll give it a try.”

  I lie down on the mattress. Everyone in the club rushes to the front of the room, forming a circle around me. I close my eyes, but I’m not the least bit tired. It’s the middle of the afternoon. Not only that, but THIRTY-FOUR EYEBALLS are staring at me. I open my eyes and they all lean in closer to see if I’ve solved the spinach problem. They don’t really understand how the whole sleep-inventing thing works.

  I close my eyes again and try to fall asleep, but after a few more minutes I realize how pointless this is. I get up.

  “This is not going work,” I say. “But thanks for your creativity. Why don’t we go around the room and have people share some of their ideas for inventions?” I help the two boys move the mattress over to the side of the room. “Who wants to go first?”

  “I do!” says a girl with long red hair. “I want to invent the INSTANT HOMEWORK COMPLETION ROBOT.”

  A buzz of agreement sweeps through the room.

  “I love doing homework,” says Clayton, and looks are exchanged.

  “That’s a nice idea,” I say to the red-haired girl. “Who else?”

  “I want to invent SPECIAL UNSQUEAKY SHOES that won’t make any noise on the floors in my house. Then I won’t wake up my little brother when I get up extra early to watch TV on the weekends.”

  “That one might be possible, but you could also just wear socks,” I say. “Does anyone else—”

  A knocking on the wooden doorframe cuts me off.

  “Do you have room for one more?” says an all-too-familiar voice from the doorway.

  “Emily!” I cry. “What are you doing here?” The high school is only just across the campus from the middle school, but most high schoolers never venture over here.

  The kids all sit up straight and go silent at the sight of a high school student in a middle school classroom.

  “I want to see what your club is all about,” Emily says, stepping into the room.
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br />   “Everybody, this is my sister, Emily,” I say.

  Samantha’s hand shoots up into the air.

  “Uh, yes, Samantha?”

  “Is Emily also an inventor?” she asks.

  “As a matter of fact,” Emily begins, stepping up to the front of the classroom, “I’m the vice president in charge of Next Big Thing development at Sure Things, Inc. I’m also pretty good at chemistry. I heard about your club project. And this afternoon I came up with a powder that will make spinach taste good.”

  A chorus of “Oooohs” sweeps through the room.

  Emily opens her backpack. She pulls out a bag filled with spinach and a test tube with green powder inside.

  Emily points to Samantha. “Will you come up and help me with this?”

  That’s my sister. Just walk in and take over the whole meeting, why don’t you? But actually, I’m pretty curious to see what she’s come up with.

  Samantha joins Emily at the front of the room.

  “Okay, now, Samantha, I’d like you to take a bite of this spinach,” Emily says.

  “But I hate spinach,” Samantha whines.

  “That’s exactly the point,” Emily says. “Go ahead, just a tiny taste.”

  Scrunching up her face and holding her nose, Samantha puts a tiny dab of spinach into her mouth.

  “Yuck!” she cries. “Gross!”

  “All right,” says Emily. “Now I’ll sprinkle a little of this SPINACH-ENHANCING POWDER onto another piece.”

  I don’t love the name Spinach-Enhancing Powder, and it would never get past Manny, but I am intrigued.

  Emily taps a few tiny green crystals from the test tube onto another piece of spinach, then hands it to Samantha, who pops it into her mouth.

  Everyone, including Emily and me, leans forward, waiting for Samantha’s verdict.

  “It tastes a little better,” she says. “Not great, but a little better.”

  Everyone in the room breaks into applause.

  “Thanks, Emily,” I say.

  “No problem,” she replies, slipping the spinach and the powder into her backpack. “That’s just what we scientific geniuses do.”