Read Online Please Don't Tell My Parents I'm a Supervillain by Richard Roberts - Free Book Online Page B

any broken parts.” Would that work?
    The Machine shambled past me, metal spikes clanking on the floor, and, with a loud clatter, spat my Dad’s welding rod onto the floor. The rod fit perfectly into the handle.
    “Penny? Claire? Are you down there?” Ray’s voice called from above.
    The Machine started horking up a much larger machine. “Hit the elevator button!” I yelled up. “You have got to come see this. We have a secret lair!”



onday I told Mr. Zwelf I’d be submitting The Machine for my science fair entry. He gave me the bad news immediately.
    “It’s an impressive invention, but it’s not going to get you a good grade, Penelope,” he told me as The Machine wiggled around in his hands.
    “Are you kidding? I built a robot that takes voice commands and has no identifiable power source. Forget a middle-school science fair, my Dad can’t reproduce it or even figure out how it works. It’s as Science as it gets!” I shouldn’t have sounded peeved, because Mr. Zwelf’s was a good guy and I knew this was coming, but what was wrong with the world if I didn’t get an A for something like this?
    He explained to me what’s wrong with the world. “Building something new, no matter how brilliant, isn’t the same as science. Did you have a hypothesis when you made it? What were you testing?”
    “I just made it. I was trying to find a way to recycle equipment better,” I answered, trying not to glare.
    “What process does it use?” he asked. I was fighting a losing battle, and it gnawed like acid in my stomach, but at least he really was impressed. He couldn’t take his eyes off The Machine and kept trying to spread its joints to see how they connected.
    If only he hadn’t asked that exact question. “I don’t know. I knew when I made it, but then I forgot,” was the best answer I could give him.
    Now he looked pained, and his voice got slow. Here came the bad news. “Penelope, I can’t guarantee the other judges will believe you made this yourself.”
    I didn’t say anything. My expression must have said volumes.
    “As amazing as this invention is, I recommend you turn in a traditional project. You deserve better, but you’ll be lucky to get a D if you present this,” he concluded.
    I took a deep breath. I’d known I might hear most of this. It still stung, but I’d made up my mind. “Thank you, Mr. Zwelf, but I’m going to go ahead. I know I’m getting an A in the rest of the class, and I can swallow an F on the science fair project if that happens. I’m proud of my Machine, and it’s more important to me to show what I can do than to get a good grade for it.”
    “I understand,” he acknowledged, dropping The Machine back into my hands.

    I knew how to soothe my considerable rancor. As soon as the school bell rang, I ran down the stairs and past the shop room to the second entrance to my new laboratory (there were four!). On Saturday, I’d picked up a book from a hardware store about electrical wiring. I had all these pieces of high-tech shop equipment The Machine had salvaged for me, if only I could plug them in!
    I’d opened up the book in terror, expecting to have to splice wires, grade them by voltage, hook them up in careful order to hard-to -identify terminals, and make decisions based on amperage. My jaw almost dropped at how simple it was. One of the devices The Machine had spat back up was a volt reader, so I didn’t even need to buy one. I dumped the contents of my Pumpkin jar on a few grounded outlets and rubber gloves for safety, and that might be all I needed.
    So, now, as I heard the door open and close, I was on my knees, using one of The Machine’s jaws as a screwdriver to twist a screw drown and lock the power wires into place.
    “Don’t touch any switches!” I yelled back.
    “Why are you working with just a flashlight?” Ray’s voice asked.
    “Circuit breakers,” I answered. I gave the outlet a tug. Felt secure. I twisted the screws that fastened it