Ms. Belfry smiled like shed already guessed Oliver would be a fountain of knowledge on this particular subject.
You might have to help me explain some of the physics to the others, she told him.
Oliver blushed as he took his seat. He hated speaking out loud in front of his classmates, especially since he was already a suspected nerd and confirming it felt like he was flaunting more than he really wanted to. But Ms. Belfry did have a very calming way about her, as though she thought Olivers knowledge was something to be celebrated rather than ridiculed.
Oliver chose a seat near the front of the class. If he was going to be forced to speak aloud, hed prefer not to have thirty pairs of eyes gawking at him over their shoulders as he did. At least this way hed only be aware of the four other kids in the front row looking at him.
Just then, Olivers classmates started filing in and taking their seats. The noise in the room began to swell. Oliver never understood how other people had so much to talk about. Though he could talk about inventors and inventions forever, there wasnt much else he felt the need to chat about. It always baffled him how other people managed such easy conversation, and how they shared so many words on what, in his mind, sounded like next to nothing of importance.
Ms. Belfry began her class, waving her arms in an attempt to get everyone to shut up. Oliver felt terrible for her. It always seemed like a battle just to get the kids to listen. And she was so gentle and soft-spoken that she never resorted to raising her voice or shouting, so her attempts to quiet everyone took ages to work. But eventually, the chatter began to die away.
Today, children, Ms. Belfry began, I have a problem that needs solving. She held up a popsicle stick. I wonder if anyone can tell me how to make this fly.
A ripple of hubbub went around the room. Someone shouted out.
Just throw it!
Ms. Belfry did as was suggested. The popsicle stick traveled less than two feet before falling to the ground.
Hmm, I dont know about you guys, Ms. Belfry said, but to me that just looked like falling. I want it to fly. To soar through the air, not just plummet to the ground.
Paul, Olivers taunter from last class, called out the next suggestion. Why dont you just ping it on an elastic band? Like a slingshot.
Thats a good idea, Ms. Belfry said with a nod. But I havent told you something. This stick is actually ten feet long.
Then make a ten-foot-wide catapult! someone shouted.
Or put rocket launchers on it! another voice chimed in.
The class started to laugh. Oliver shifted in his seat. He knew exactly how the popsicle stick could fly. It all came down to physics.
Ms. Belfry managed to get the class to settle down again.
This was the exact problem facing the Wright brothers when they were trying to create the first airplane. How to mimic the flight of birds. How to turn thisshe held up the stick horizontallyinto wings that could sustain flight. So, does anyone know how they did it?
Her gaze flicked immediately to Oliver. He swallowed. As much as he didnt want to speak aloud, another part of him desperately wanted to prove to Ms. Belfry how smart he was.
You need to create lift, he said, quietly.
What was that? Ms. Belfry said, although Oliver knew full well shed heard him perfectly.
Reticently, he spoke a little louder. You need to create lift.
No sooner had he finished speaking than Oliver felt a blush creep into his cheeks. He felt the change in the room, the tenseness of the other students around him. So much for not having thirty pairs of eyes gawking at him; Oliver could practically feel them burning into his back.
And what is lift? Ms. Belfry continued.
Oliver wet his dry lips and swallowed his anguish. Lift is the name of the force that counters gravity. Gravity is always pulling objects down to the center of the earth. Lift is the force that counteracts it.
From somewhere behind, he heard Pauls whispered voice in a mock whine, mimicking, Lift counteracts it.
A tittering of laughter rippled amongst the students behind him. Oliver felt his muscles stiffen defensively in response.
Ms. Belfry was clearly oblivious to the quiet mocking Oliver was experiencing.
Hmm, she said, as if this was all news to her. Sounds complicated. Countering gravity? Isnt that impossible?
Oliver shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. He really wanted to stop speaking, to have a small respite from the whispers. But clearly no one else knew the answer, and Ms. Belfry was watching him with her sparkling, encouraging eyes.
Not at all, Oliver replied, finally taking the bait. To create lift all you have to do is change how fast air flows around something, which you can do just by changing the shape of the object. So with your popsicle stick, you just need a ridge on the top side. That means that as the stick moves forward the air flowing above and below it have different-shaped paths. Over the humped side of the wing the path is curved, whereas beneath the wing, the path is flat and uninterrupted.
Oliver finished speaking and immediately pressed his lips together. Not only had he answered her question, hed gone above and beyond in explaining it. Hed gotten carried away with himself and now he was going to be mocked mercilessly. He braced himself.
Could you draw it for us? Ms. Belfry asked.
She held out a board pen for Oliver. He looked at it, wide-eyed. Speaking was one thing, but standing in front of everyone like a target was a whole other!
Id prefer not to, he muttered out the side of his mouth.
He saw the flicker of understanding in Ms. Belfrys expression. She must have realized shed pushed him to the edge of his comfort zone, beyond it even, and what she was asking him now was an impossibility.
Actually, she said, withdrawing the pen and stepping backward, maybe someone else would like to try drawing what Olivers explained?
Samantha, one of the brash kids who craved attention, leapt up and snatched the pen from Ms. Belfry. Together they went over to the board and Ms. Belfry helped Samantha draw a diagram of what Oliver was describing.
But as soon as Ms. Belfrys back was turned, Oliver felt something hit the back of his head. He turned and saw a ball of screwed up paper at his feet. He reached down and picked it up, not wanting to open it, knowing thered be a cruel note inside.
Hey Paul hissed. Dont ignore me. Read the note!
Tensing, Oliver opened up the paper ball in his hands. He smoothed it on the desk before him. Written in terrible spider-crawl handwriting were the words Guess what else can fly?
Just then, he felt something else hit his head. Another paper ball. It was followed by another, and another and another.
HEY! Oliver cried, leaping up and turning around angrily.
Ms. Belfry turned too. She frowned at the scene before her.
Whats going on? she demanded.
Were just trying to find things that fly, Paul said innocently. One must have hit Oliver by accident.
Ms. Belfry looked skeptical. Oliver? she asked, turning her gaze to him.
Oliver sat back down in his seat, hunkering down. Its true, he mumbled.
By now, the boisterous Samantha had finished her diagram, and Ms. Belfry was able to turn her attention back to the class. She pointed at the board, where there was now a diagram of a wing, not straight but curved like a sideways stretched teardrop. Two dotted lines indicated the paths of air passing above the wing and below it. The flow of air going over the humped wing looked different in comparison to the flow going directly under it.
By now, the boisterous Samantha had finished her diagram, and Ms. Belfry was able to turn her attention back to the class. She pointed at the board, where there was now a diagram of a wing, not straight but curved like a sideways stretched teardrop. Two dotted lines indicated the paths of air passing above the wing and below it. The flow of air going over the humped wing looked different in comparison to the flow going directly under it.
Like this? Ms. Belfry said. But I still dont understand how that produces lift.
Oliver knew all too well that Ms. Belfry knew all this, but having just been pelted by paper balls had made him reluctant to speak again.
Then he realized something. Nothing he did was going to stop the teasing. Either he sat there silently and got picked on for doing nothing, or he spoke up and got picked on for his intelligence. He realized then which hed prefer.
Because with the air following in different paths like that, it creates a downward force, he explained. And if we take Isaac Newtons third law of motionthat every action produces an equal and opposite reactionyou can see how the resulting reaction to that force, to the downward force, is that the air traveling under the wing creates lift.
He folded his arms and sat back against the chair.
Ms. Belfry looked triumphant. Thats quite right, Oliver.
She turned back to the drawing and added arrows. Oliver felt a paper ball hit his head but this time he didnt even react. He didnt care anymore what his classmates thought of him. In fact, they were probably just jealous that he had brains and knew cool stuff like Isaac Newtons laws of physics when all they could manage was screwing up a ball of paper and aiming it at someones head.
He folded his arms more tightly and, ignoring the paper balls smacking him in the head, focused on Ms. Belfrys image. She was drawing an arrow pointing down. Beside it she wrote downward force. The other arrow shed drawn pointed up with the word lift.
What about hot air balloons? a voice challenged from behind. They dont work that way at all, but they still fly.
Oliver turned in his seat, searching for the owner of the voice. It was a grumpy-looking kiddark, bushy eyebrows, dimpled chinwho had joined Paul in throwing the paper balls.
Well, thats a completely different law at play, Oliver explained. That works because hot air rises. The Montgolfier brothers, who invented the hot air balloon, realized that if you trap the air inside some kind of envelope, like a balloon, it becomes buoyant due to the lower density of hot air inside compared to cold air outside.
The boy just looked more angry at Olivers explanation. Well, what about rockets? he challenged further. Theyre not buoyant or whatever you just said. They go up, though. And they fly. How does that work, smarty pants?
Oliver just smiled. That comes back to Isaac Newtons third law of motion again. Only this time the force involved is propulsion, not lift. Propulsion is the same thing that moves a steam train. A big blast out one end produces an opposite reaction of propulsion. Only with a rocket its got to get all the way to space, so the blast has to be really massive.
Oliver could feel himself growing excited as he spoke about these things. Even though all the kids were staring at him like he was a freak, he didnt care.
He turned back in his seat to face the front. There, smiling proudly, stood Ms. Belfry.
And do you know what all these inventors had in common? she said. The Montgolfiers and the Wrights and Robert Goddard, who launched the first liquid-propellant-fueled rocket? Ill tell you what. They did things theyd been told were impossible! Their inventions were crazy. Imagine someone saying that we could use the same principles of ancient Chinese catapults to launch a man into space! And yet they became groundbreaking inventors, whose inventions have changed the world, and the whole trajectory of humankind!
Oliver knew she was speaking to him, telling him that no matter what people did or said, he should never be cowed into silence.
Then something remarkable happened. In response to Ms. Belfrys passion and enthusiasm, the class fell into stunned silence. It wasnt the tense silence of a poised attack, but the humbled silence of having learned something inspiring.
Oliver felt a swell in his stomach. Ms. Belfry really was the most awesome teacher. She was the only person whod shown anywhere near the level of excitement he had for physics and science and inventors, and her excitement even managed to silence his rowdy classmates, if only temporarily.
Just then, a huge gust of wind made the window panes rattle. Everyone jumped in unison and turned their eyes toward the gray skies outside.
Looks like the storm is going to hit soon, Ms. Belfry said.
No sooner had she spoken, than the voice of the principal came over the speaker.
Students, weve just received a warning from the National Weather Service. This is going to be the storm of the century, the likes of which weve never seen before. We really dont know what to expect. So to be on the safe side, the mayor is canceling classes for the day.
Everyone started shouting excitedly and Oliver strained to hear the final words of the principals announcement.
The storm is due to hit within the next hour. There are buses outside. Please head straight home. The official warning is to not be outside when the storm hits in approximately one hour. This is a city-wide warning so your parents will be expecting you home. Anyone caught truanting will face suspension.
Around Oliver, no one seemed to care. All theyd heard was that school was out and they were going to make the most of it. They grabbed their books and hurried out of the classroom like a stampede of buffaloes.
Oliver collected his own things more slowly.
You did great today, Ms. Belfry told him as she placed all of her little models into her bag. Are you okay getting home? She looked concerned about his welfare.
Oliver nodded to reassure her. Ill get the bus with everyone else, he said, realizing as he did that that might mean enduring a journey with Chris. He shuddered.
Oliver swung the strap of his backpack over his shoulder and followed the rest of the school kids outside. The sky was so dark, it was practically black. It felt very ominous.
Head bowed, Oliver started walking toward the bus stop. But just then, he caught sight of something behind him, something far more scary than a black tropical storm cloud: Chris. And running alongside him were his cronies.
Oliver turned and bolted. He headed straight toward the first bus in the queue. The bus was crammed with kids and clearly ready to leave. Not even checking to see where it was going, Oliver threw himself onboard.
Just in time as well. The mechanism hissed and the door shut behind him. A split second later, Chris appeared on the other side, glowering menacingly. His cronies drew up beside him and they all glared at Oliver through the door, which was really nothing more than a thin shield of protective glass.
The bus set off, moving Oliver away from their fierce faces.
He peered out the window as the bus moved away and began picking up speed. To Olivers dismay, Chris and his cronies barged their way straight onto the bus waiting behind. It, too, pulled away from school, following closely.
Oliver gulped with dread. With Chris and his friends just one bus behind, he knew that if they saw him get off, they would too. Then theyd pounce and hed be in for a pummeling. He chewed his lip with worry, not knowing what to do next. If only his invisibility coat really existed. Now was the time to use it!