I took a deep breath and tried to act as casual as possible. “It uses the same principle as my glasses.” I went on to explain how the tiny video monitor projected the image onto the glass.
“That sounds very exciting,” Joey said. “Are you going to show off your glasses in the Inventors’ Olympics?”
“Well, kind of,” I replied. “I can also use them to control this robot I made. I think I’ll showcase that somehow.” I hoped Joey wouldn’t ask me how, since I hadn’t quite figured that part out yet.
He thoughtfully stroked his bushy beard. “So the glasses do more than just let you see the objects in Noah’s app?”
“Oh yeah,” I agreed with a small laugh. “Much more.”
“What do you think about Noah getting so much attention for Feed the Beast?” Joey asked.
That was kind of a weird question. “It’s fine, I guess.” I shrugged.
Joey raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because I hear that you two aren’t getting along lately.”
I didn’t understand why he wasn’t asking me more about our inventions, but he was spot-on about the friction between Noah and me. Maybe Joey had seen the footage from our argument and was just curious.
“It’s no big deal, really,” I said, trying to play the situation off. “We just had a disagreement, that’s all.”
“You’re not worried he’s stealing the spotlight from you?”
“What spotlight?” I asked, annoyed. “I don’t want any kind of spotlight.”
“Hmm…” Joey nodded thoughtfully before pulling back the curtain and leaning out of the confessional. “Dan? Play us that clip we cued up.” He pulled out a tiny notebook and flipped through the pages. “File: Newton eleven.”
“Coming right up,” came Dan’s voice from the other side of the room.
Suddenly, the tiny video screen behind the confessional camera came to life. It showed an image of Noah sitting where I was now. He was staring at the camera with his mouth open, as if frozen in midsentence. After a few seconds, the video began to play.
“Get over yourself, Tom Swift. Just because your name’s on the school doesn’t mean that you’re a big deal. You probably wouldn’t be here if your dad hadn’t built the school. You’re not even that good of an inventor.”
My jaw dropped, and what little I’d eaten of lunch felt like a boulder in my stomach.
How could my best friend say those things about me?
8
The Companion Confrontation
“SO, AFTER SEEING THAT CLIP, how do you feel?” Joey asked me.
“Uh…” I slowly shook my head, my mouth still wide open. “Stunned.”
Noah was supposed to be my best friend. Is that what he really thought about me? He had to have been showing off for the show. But why would he say those things when he knew I felt the exact opposite? Maybe he didn’t really believe me?
“Care to elaborate on that?” Joey asked, interrupting my runaway train of thought.
“I don’t know,” I said with a big sigh. “I thought he was my best friend.”
Joey winced. “That doesn’t sound like something a friend would say, let alone a best friend.”
There was another awkward silence as I stared blankly at the camera, focused on the little red recording light just to the left of the lens. Suddenly, I felt embarrassed to be in the makeshift room. I wasn’t about to cry or anything, but I could feel the camera capturing every inch of devastation on my face. I had to get out of there.
“Excuse me,” I said, standing up and moving toward the curtain.
Joey switched off the camera. “We’ll pick this up another time, then?”
I gave a quick nod as I drew back the fabric. “Okay.” Grabbing my lunch tray and notebook, I hurried out of the room, back toward the cafeteria.
I must’ve been in a daze, because I hardly remembered dumping my tray, swinging by my locker, or heading to robotics class. Some classmates might have tried to talk with me in the hallways, but I couldn’t remember who or if I answered them. I felt numb.
And worst of all, I knew I’d have to face Noah in class. I didn’t know what to say to him. Maybe I’d get lucky and he’d be off with one of the camera crews again.
No such luck.
As everyone filed into class, in came Noah followed by Sean and Mike, the other camera crew. As Noah put his stuff down on our worktable, I caught Sean recording us out of the corner of my eye. I tried to ignore them all.
When Noah pulled out his notebook and began writing, I focused on my robot, taking apart one of the arms so I could replace its rubber belts with slightly smaller ones. I hoped the new additions would make the arms more sensitive and able to handle simple tasks with greater ease.
I guess what I was doing was too boring for the show. Sean and Mike moved to another worktable on the other side of the classroom, where Mia Trevino was mixing a powdery substance with water in a bucket. It almost looked like she was making her own pancake batter. Except pancake batter wasn’t supposed to be pink.
Meanwhile, Sam sat on a stool next to her. Sam removed her shoes and socks, rolled up her pants, and positioned two short, stubby cardboard tubes next to Mia’s bucket. Since Mia’s father worked in special effects for movies and TV shows, I could almost guess what they were doing: It looked as if Mia was getting ready to make casts of Sam’s feet. My theory was confirmed when Mia poured the gloppy substance into the tubes and Sam slowly sunk her feet inside.
“Ooh,” Sam said, wincing. “That’s cold.”
“Sorry,” Mia said. “If I warmed the water, the alginate would harden faster.”
Sean and Mike’s attention (along with that of several other students) was focused on Sam and Mia. I didn’t know what Sam’s big project
