Isolating The Annoying Squeak




She conferred with Mr. Peacock. And directly. There was no, ‘Sir, my sylph had a question about…’ I had to stay late after school, but I did my English homework at the desk while she and the teacher discussed her research.

And I dialed the phone, but she talked to the sylphs and implored the owners.

We did both concentrate on what the sound guys told us, but that was interesting. Also, on the remote visits, I became Electra’s sound guy.

She worked me like a red-headed mule. Other people got credit for having the idea. She collaborated with Chrissy on the presentation board. She discussed the format and folder for the final report with Chip.

She ordered me to go get stuff or to arrange to borrow the car, or to carry stuff out to the car. I’d raise a humped shoulder and lisp a ‘yeth, mathter,’ in brilliant Igor manner and shuffle off to obey.

I’d never seen her quite so happy. So it was worth it.

We visited all the sylphs she’d interviewed. For the new ones Mark found, we didn’t bring up the science fair until after the interview. We didn’t want them to think there was some sort of blackmail involved.

“It’s not BLACKMAIL!” Electra insisted when I explained it to my parents.

“No, of course not,” I said. “We try hard to avoid making it blackmail.”

“It wouldn’t even BE blackmail!” she said with an adorable little stamp of her foot. “We’re avoiding any feeling of obligation of quid pro quo!”

“Is that Latin for blackmail?” I asked.

“Let it go, dear,” Mom said.

“Yes, ma’am,” we both said, not sure who she was advising. She smiled victoriously and went to get dinner.

“Now shake hands,” Dad said, “and tell me more about these remotes?”

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Logistics turned out to be the hardest part of the project. Chip was still going to type up her report, but he couldn’t exactly read the original without a magnifying glass. And going from glass to typing to picking up the glass again seemed ungainly.

And someone in his house had been a fan of God’s Acre, and blamed Electra for the show’s cancellation. So she couldn’t dictate to him at his house.

And he couldn’t sneak the typewriter out of the house without a cross-examination.

Then one night, he just showed up on our porch, typewriter in hand.

I opened the door to let him in. He hesitated. “I told my dad I was taking this over to my girlfriend’s place to help with her project.”

“Does Chrissy know?” I asked. He nodded. “So she’ll cover if anyone calls her place. Good.” He still wouldn’t come in.

“I don’t want you to be mad.”

“That you lied?”

“That I didn’t say EX girlfriend.” I stared at him for a minute.

“You’re still friends,” I said. “And rumor has it, Electra’s a girl.” I nodded my head. “Set it up on the dining room table.” He finally came inside. Electra was on the table, putting her charts in order. She had to have heard the conversation.

“Thanks, Conrad,” she said quietly.

“Watch him like a hawk,” I said, maybe a little louder than a conversational tone. They laughed. I laughed. It was… It felt nice.

She dictated and he typed. I sat at the far end of the table, pretending to do math homework. Homework that Electra had already helped me finish. I thanked HER later for not mentioning that in front of Chip.



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Index

35. The Project

37. The Fairest of Fairs