second someone touched it, stuff like that. I got it out of my system, then I really settled down to business.
Have you ever heard of Ockham’s razor? It’s a principle that says the simplest solution is always the best solution.
What I came up with was spectacularly simple.
Mason enjoyed eating my Oreos, so why not make eating my Oreos a lot less enjoyable?
I went to the bathroom and opened the little linen closet. Mom keeps all her oddball remedies on the top shelf: burdock tinctures, nettle capsules, tea tree oil. It took a while to sort through it all and find what I was looking for, but I did. It was shoved into the back corner. I think Mom was embarrassed that she had to use it, especially since it wasn’t natural or organic and it didn’t have any herbal junk in it.
Facial hair bleach.
It’s for those little moustaches that women sometimes get. I once caught Mom with the stuff slathered across her upper lip. It’s white and thick. Much like the middle of an Oreo cookie. I looked in the box. It even had its own little spatula to spread the cream with. How convenient. I shoved the box back to the corner of the cabinet. I’d be using it in the morning.
Obviously, I didn’t need to make any blueprints for this idea. Back in my room, I shut my graph paper notebook and opened the desk drawer to put it away, but I hesitated before I shut the drawer. I stared down at it for a moment, considering. Then I pulled the entire drawer out of the desk and put it on the floor. In the shallow gap between the runners and the bottom of the desk there was a small rectangular piece of pale green paper. I pulled it out, took a breath, and flipped it over so I could read the single word written on it:
SLOB
I knew the handwriting so well—the neat, round curves, the slight hook on the top of the L. My right hand held the paper and my left hand pressed against my stomach. It’s funny how things can hurt and feel good at the same time.
“Owen?”
Hurriedly, I put the paper back in its hiding place and slid the drawer over it.
“Yeah?”
The door opened and Mom walked in, carrying a plastic bag.
“Hey, good-lookin’. How are you feeling?”
“A lot better. I think the peppermint really helped.”
“Did it? Wow.” She always sounds surprised when someone tells her that one of her remedies actually worked. “Have you been able to eat anything?”
“I had a few Oreos,” I said. I figured it was better to fess up than have her discover the near empty package of cookies tomorrow morning. “That was all I could keep down,” I added.
I could see she didn’t like that, but she was so happy I was feeling better and that my recovery was in part due to her peppermint remedy, she didn’t make a stink. Like I said, I’m not beyond lying on occasion.
“I have something for you.” She handed me the plastic bag. Inside was a box that said Li’l Inventor. It was a kit to put together this plastic robot dog.
“It says on the box that you can make it chase its tail,” she said.
“Great. Thanks,” I said.
She means well.
8
Don’t you love it when things work out exactly as you planned?
Mason Ragg rose up suddenly from his chair at the English workstation at 10:37, asked for the hall pass, and left the room. When he came back, he looked unusually pleased. He must have taken the cookies and not eaten them yet. Good. I wanted to be in the lunchroom when he did.
This time, I felt no panic. I didn’t even run out in the hall to check my lunch sack. I knew what I would find. Instead, I calmly worked away at the art workstation on a clay model of an Egyptian sarcophagus for global studies. Rachel Lowry even came over, and said, “Can I see that?”
“Sure.”
She picked the sarcophagus up and turned it this way and that.
“Cool,” she said and put it back down. Her fingerprints were on either side of the sarcophagus. I left them there.
It was a very excellent morning.
Then came gym
Have you ever heard of Ockham’s razor? It’s a principle that says the simplest solution is always the best solution.
What I came up with was spectacularly simple.
Mason enjoyed eating my Oreos, so why not make eating my Oreos a lot less enjoyable?
I went to the bathroom and opened the little linen closet. Mom keeps all her oddball remedies on the top shelf: burdock tinctures, nettle capsules, tea tree oil. It took a while to sort through it all and find what I was looking for, but I did. It was shoved into the back corner. I think Mom was embarrassed that she had to use it, especially since it wasn’t natural or organic and it didn’t have any herbal junk in it.
Facial hair bleach.
It’s for those little moustaches that women sometimes get. I once caught Mom with the stuff slathered across her upper lip. It’s white and thick. Much like the middle of an Oreo cookie. I looked in the box. It even had its own little spatula to spread the cream with. How convenient. I shoved the box back to the corner of the cabinet. I’d be using it in the morning.
Obviously, I didn’t need to make any blueprints for this idea. Back in my room, I shut my graph paper notebook and opened the desk drawer to put it away, but I hesitated before I shut the drawer. I stared down at it for a moment, considering. Then I pulled the entire drawer out of the desk and put it on the floor. In the shallow gap between the runners and the bottom of the desk there was a small rectangular piece of pale green paper. I pulled it out, took a breath, and flipped it over so I could read the single word written on it:
SLOB
I knew the handwriting so well—the neat, round curves, the slight hook on the top of the L. My right hand held the paper and my left hand pressed against my stomach. It’s funny how things can hurt and feel good at the same time.
“Owen?”
Hurriedly, I put the paper back in its hiding place and slid the drawer over it.
“Yeah?”
The door opened and Mom walked in, carrying a plastic bag.
“Hey, good-lookin’. How are you feeling?”
“A lot better. I think the peppermint really helped.”
“Did it? Wow.” She always sounds surprised when someone tells her that one of her remedies actually worked. “Have you been able to eat anything?”
“I had a few Oreos,” I said. I figured it was better to fess up than have her discover the near empty package of cookies tomorrow morning. “That was all I could keep down,” I added.
I could see she didn’t like that, but she was so happy I was feeling better and that my recovery was in part due to her peppermint remedy, she didn’t make a stink. Like I said, I’m not beyond lying on occasion.
“I have something for you.” She handed me the plastic bag. Inside was a box that said Li’l Inventor. It was a kit to put together this plastic robot dog.
“It says on the box that you can make it chase its tail,” she said.
“Great. Thanks,” I said.
She means well.
8
Don’t you love it when things work out exactly as you planned?
Mason Ragg rose up suddenly from his chair at the English workstation at 10:37, asked for the hall pass, and left the room. When he came back, he looked unusually pleased. He must have taken the cookies and not eaten them yet. Good. I wanted to be in the lunchroom when he did.
This time, I felt no panic. I didn’t even run out in the hall to check my lunch sack. I knew what I would find. Instead, I calmly worked away at the art workstation on a clay model of an Egyptian sarcophagus for global studies. Rachel Lowry even came over, and said, “Can I see that?”
“Sure.”
She picked the sarcophagus up and turned it this way and that.
“Cool,” she said and put it back down. Her fingerprints were on either side of the sarcophagus. I left them there.
It was a very excellent morning.
Then came gym
Similar Books
