Junior Fiction

*By popular demand... 

Just released 6/10/09 - Our home school writer's group has taken up the challenge to write Professor Wampum's Experiment 2! If you'd like to purchase a download for $1.00 (Print is $7.27) go to... 

 http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/professor-wampums-experiment-2/7257768

See what happens to Mrs. Nelson, Harry, Ivan and Stephen as their story continues.

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Professor Wampum’s Experiment:

By J.C. Carter

E-copy available for $2.19@  http://www.lulu.com/browse/book_view.php?fCID=2296901&fBuyItem=5

Trade Paper-back available for $6.25@ http://www.createspace.com/Customer/EStore.do;jsessionid=96BB405C4930904ED427F1AB12C80810.cspworker01?id=3343843&rewrite=true
(*FOR FREE SHIPPING, CONTACT ME DIRECTLY.)

Professor Wampum's Experiment is a 104 page novel for 9-12 year-old children. This fun, fictional story is about Stephen Martin, a sixth grade student, his teacher, and the wacky adventures of minuscule beings, AKA: Itsys.

Blurb: Nobody in Stephen's class can believe his school science project, even though it's based on his great-grandfather's scientific findings. Could there be creatures, smaller than the eye can see, that have brains and a hunger for knowledge and purpose for existing? Indeed, as you'll see as you read this action-packed story, such is the case of the colony of Itsys who set off on a quest traveling through two humans in search of these things.

Publication Date:

May 28 2008
ISBN/EAN13:
1438229089 / 9781438229089
Page Count:
104
Binding Type:
US Trade Paper
Trim Size:
5.5" x 8.5"
Language:
English
Color:
Black and White
Related Categories:
Juvenile Fiction / Action & Adventure / General
Excerpt (C) 2008 by JoAnn Carter

Chapter One

At the start of last period science class, sunshine reflected off the bright Vermont snow and streamed through the tall classroom windows. The sun’s warmth beckoned to Stephen and he stared into the brilliance. That is, until Mrs. Nelson said, "Okay, Stephen, it’s your turn."

Blinking, he looked away from the windows at yellow dots dancing before his eyes. Was the classroom actually hot, he wondered, or had fright caused beads of sweat to dampen his palms.

Oh boy, this is it, he thought, grabbing his notes. Somehow, he managed to drag himself to the front of the classroom despite suddenly lead-heavy feet, and planted himself behind the music stand his teacher had borrowed for oral presentations. Hopefully, the mouthful of air he gulped would make his heart quit pounding like scared jack-rabbit’s.

Formaldehyde still lingered in the air from yesterday’s frog dissection, and its scent added to the queasiness bubbling in his stomach. Gripping the music stand with one hand, he shuffled his notes with the other, and glanced around the room.

"What’s he waiting for?" Suzi whispered behind a cupped hand.

Lisa, who sat beside her in the front row, shrugged. "He looks like he’s gonna puke," she whispered back.

Did they think he was deaf? Stephen looked at each cold black lab table and the classmates who perched on high, backless stools. The natives were getting restless, he realized, and the proof was on the face of every squirming, frowning, eye-rolling kid.

Please, God, he prayed, don’t let me mess up….

And clearing his throat, he began. "In our atmosphere there are tiny creatures called Itsys. They’re too small for the human eye to see, but are, never the less, according to my great-grandfather’s science journals, very real."

From his back row seat, Sam rolled his eyes. And Sally, whom he thought was the prettiest girl in school, giggled.

Ignore them, he thought. Just read the thing and get it over with. "Grandfather Martin described them as miniscule organisms, like a dust mite or grain of pollen, but unlike the typical molecule, they are living beings. With brains."

"Stephen." Mrs. Nelson interrupted, "I know your great-grandfather was a wonderful scientist, but what you’re proposing… this is a science class and we can only deal with facts."

"Oh, but I am!" Stephen’s eyes widened, "Itsys live and work in colonies. Grandfather Martin once showed me a picture he drew of them. They look… weird, but kind of cool, too. They have fuzzy, round, white bodies and one, large eye in the middle. At the end of their two feet they have something like a roller-skate stopper. They move when their feet are tucked up into a special pouch on their stomach…"

Mrs. Nelson’s lips formed a taut line and Albert slapped the table top. "I think you and your old grandpa are both wacko!" he said, drawing finger-circles in the air beside his temple.

Now Mrs. Nelson’s eyes were as narrow as her mouth. "Albert…."

The one-word warning was enough to make the boy sit tall and stare straight ahead.

Then she faced Stephen and crossed both arms over her chest. "Stephen, if any of this is true, what evidence did your great-grandfather find, and did he share that data with his colleagues?"
Evidence? Data? Colleagues? Stephen swallowed. Not an easy feat, considering how dry his tongue had become. He’d done his homework, that’s all, so why was everybody making such a big deal of his report? Nobody had questioned Albert when he read about how mice can squeeze through tiny cracks, or Lisa, who explained why clouds sometimes take the shape of animals....

"I-I, ah, I don’t know how he found out about them." Suddenly, a tickle of anger blotted out some of his fear, and he said, "If he wasn’t dead I could ask him."

Hoo-boy. Not a good tactic, Stephen decided when Mrs. Nelson aimed that steely glare again, this time at him. "I, ah, I have all of his journals, though," he said, holding up the one log book he’d brought to class. Pride, and maybe just a little bit of stubborn determination, made him stand up straighter. "That’s s all the proof I need!"

Someone launched a crumpled piece of paper that hit Stephen square on the forehead, inspiring chuckles and giggles all around the room.

Mrs. Nelson stepped up beside him and took the journal from him and ran her long, skinny fingers over its worn brown leather cover. Then all of a sudden, she held it close, the way Pastor Jones held the Bible, right before he opened it to start a Sunday sermon. "Would it be all right if I borrow this?"

Funny, he’d never noticed before that she had bright blue eyes and really long eyelashes. Shrugging one shoulder, he said, "Sure. I guess."

Smiling, Mrs. Nelson lay a hand on his shoulder. "I’ll take it home tonight." Lifting her chin—another of her wordless warnings to her unruly students—she added, "You can read your report tomorrow, after I’ve had a chance to read it."

That scared him, because what if she didn’t agree with Grandpa Martin’s findings? What if she gave him an F on his report? What if she made him read the dumb then and then announce, in front of the whole class, that she intended to fail him! He swallowed again, harder this time. "Well, okay…."

"I’ll take good care of it," she said with a wink. "I know it means a lot to you."

Boy, she sure had that right. And not just because the journal had been the source of information for his report, either. The books his great-grandfather left behind were Stephen’s only connection to the man who’d been a best friend, a companion, an advisor, and a teacher, all rolled into one. Something told him Mrs. Nelson understood why he could only nod in agreement as he walked back to his seat.

Please God, he prayed, don’t let these other goofballs see how close I came to crying.

 

 
JoAnn