Addison Addley and the Trick of the Eye (2 page)

I reached down and grabbed his glasses. “Here you go,” I said, picking off the two worms that were stuck to the lenses. I grabbed the other worms and stuck them back in Sam's box. I wouldn't need them today because I was going to try out my new lure instead.

“We've got to come up with a plan to change your mom's mind,” Sam said. “You just can't move.” He was pacing back and forth so fast I was sure he was going to fall into the creek. “Especially not to the new development. You'd be at a different school!”

I hadn't thought about that. I didn't want to think about that. I'd be like a fish out of water at that dumb school. Even their baseball team was dumb. The Westside Wildcats, or Whinycats, as we liked to call them, had a kitten as their mascot. I mean, really, who would have a kitten as a mascot unless you were a veterinarian or a pet-shop owner?

I cast my line out into the water and leaned back against the old oak tree. The creek was so shallow and the water was so clear you could easily see the bottom. I tried to imagine living in the new townhouse, walking to the new school. Then I tried not to imagine it. I decided to think about fish instead. That was easier. I put down my pole and closed my eyes.

Thinking about fish was a whole lot nicer than thinking about a shoe box.

It's a good thing Sam and I were able to think about fish, because that's about all we ever did with them. We sure couldn't catch them. I had a sneaking suspicion that nobody had ever caught a fish in that creek. It was fun trying though. Not to mention that the creek made a great hiding place from chores and annoying people.

Sam must have been thinking about annoying people too. “At least you'd be away from Tiffany,” he said as he sat down on the bank. “But then you'd be at the same school as Tiffany's cousin.”

If there was anyone more annoying than Tiffany Wilson, the meanest kid in my grade-five class, it was her cousin, Trent. He had just moved here last month. He thought he was the smartest kid on the planet, and the best baseball player this side of Mars, according to Tiffany. Whenever Tiffany took a break from bragging about herself, which wasn't very often, she bragged about Trent. I couldn't decide which was worse.

I didn't have much time to think about Trent, because suddenly I had a bite. At least I thought I had one. I'd left the pole lying on the ground, so I really couldn't tell if there had been a tug on it or not. But when I opened my eyes, the lure was sparkling at least a foot from where I had thrown it. Logically, something must have dragged it there. A fish was probably waiting behind the big rock next to it, ready to pounce on it again. I'd have to move fast to catch it by surprise when it went for the lure again. My brain may not work too fast but it sure could outwit a fish. I knew that fish would be back. He wasn't there yet, but I bet he would be there in seconds. I'd use my incredible timing to pull it in just as it was going for the prize. Sometimes you've just got to take the gamble and trust yourself. I counted to three to give the fish time to come back. Then I stood up and yanked as hard as I could on the line. It came out easily. Too easily. It flew back and the hook just missed the tree—and Sam's nose.

Sam jumped up. “What are you doing?” he cried. “You could have sliced me open! You could have broken my glasses! You could have ripped out my hair!”

He stomped three times. “You didn't even have a bite,” he said.

So much for logic. “The lure moved closer to that bank,” I explained as I cast my line back into the shallow water. “I thought maybe a fish had pulled it there and was hiding behind that big rock. I was sure he would come back for it. He must have seen a better lure down the creek. Next time I'm using my worms.”

You really couldn't go wrong with worms. They were the best. I don't know why I hadn't used them in the first place. The news about moving must have scrambled my brain and jumbled up my heart, because I was usually a pretty loyal worm-user. I hoped worms didn't have feelings. I didn't want them to feel left out.

Sam scratched his head while he peered into the creek. He bent down and looked some more. He thought for a minute, and then he nodded his head.

“Refraction,” he said.

“Re—what?” I asked.

“Refraction. It's a science term. It's sort of like an optical illusion,” he explained.

“You mean like a magician sort of thing?” I asked. I liked magicians. They tricked people and made it look easy. You could probably get pretty rich being a magician and not even have to do a lot of work. That sounded like my sort of job.

“Sort of,” Sam said. “I guess you could say that. Refraction's cool. I read all about it in my dad's science magazine.”

Why anyone would want to read a science magazine was beyond me. It was hard enough keeping up with my comic books.

“That lure is not where you think it is,” Sam said, jumping up quickly. He pointed to the water. “You see, when light goes through the air, it goes in a straight line. When it passes from the air to the water though, it gets bent, or refracted.”

Now it was my turn to scratch my head. Maybe Sam's brain was refracted. “How can light bend?” I asked. This just didn't make sense. That's the problem with having a best friend who's so smart. A lot of the time he just doesn't make sense. I don't hold that against him though. He comes in handy a lot.

“The air has a different density than the water,” Sam said, practically bubbling over with enthusiasm. He likes having me around to explain things to. That's okay. I like to do my bit for our friendship. “When the light hits the water, it changes speed and bends.”

He pointed to the lure glistening in the creek. “That lure is actually in a different spot than you think. The light makes it look like it's moved. If you looked at it from a different angle, like lower down, it would look like it moved again.”

I still didn't get it. Did a fish look like it was in a different place than where it was too? How would an eagle catch a fish if it wasn't where it was supposed to be? Eagles didn't learn about laws of refraction.

Maybe this refraction stuff would explain why we'd never caught any fish. There had to be some sort of explanation, because I knew we were the best fishermen around. At least we were the best at trying to be. And we didn't have a lot of competition.

Sam swept his arm out in front of him as he got ready for his grand finale speech. “Things can appear totally different, depending on what angle you're looking at them from. I guess you really could call that an optical illusion.”

I nodded, pretending I understood. By that time, though, I didn't care if I understood the facts. The only things I needed to know were jumping around in my brain like fish in a net.

Different angle + optical illusion = different look…

I suddenly saw my moving problem in a whole new light. I would create some optical illusions of my own. I'd fool Mom into thinking that our dumpy old house was actually a mansion, heck, a castle. A small castle, mind you, since she didn't want anything too big.

That new development was going to look like a rundown little doghouse when I got finished painting it in a new light.

The only thing I hadn't figured out yet was what to do about the break-ins. I didn't think that I could make an optical illusion out of them. No matter what angle you looked at them from, break-ins were still scary.

Chapter Three

Paint, nails, Sam's old gaming system
. We wrote a list on the way home after school the next day. Well, actually, Sam wrote while I listed. I didn't want to waste energy doing both things at once.

“Wait a second,” Sam cried. “My old gaming system? How is that going to make your house look better?”

“Come on, Sam, think!” I urged. Sometimes Sam doesn't get my ideas too quickly. I thought great minds were supposed to think alike. Maybe Sam's wasn't so great after all.

“It's the illusion thing. The more stuff we cram into the house, the smaller it's going to seem, and the more Mom will realize that we really do need all that space,” I explained. That and the fact that I'd been dying to try out Sam's system on my own, without him watching me. I needed to practice without pressure. Besides, he had a new system now anyway. He usually likes to keep his games and systems all lined up and locked away in the closet, in alphabetical order. I was sure he could let one go just this once. After all, it was an emergency.

“It'll just be for a couple of weeks,” I promised. “I'll take really good care of it.” I would. Taking really good care of video games was one thing I was great at.

“Keep writing,” I said. “Garbage bags, shovel, hole digger.”

“Hole digger? Isn't that the same as a shovel?” Sam asked.

“No, not at all. I've got big plans for the backyard. I'm going to turn it into a worm store. I don't want to dig up the whole yard with a big shovel. Little holes will do. The worms aren't that big. I think I can make a hole digger with a spike and some duct tape. I'll need something to tie it on to though. I'm sure Mom doesn't need her old canoe paddle anymore.”

Sam nodded. “That's not a bad idea. You could make some extra money that way! You can also get rid of some weeds at the same time.”

Now Sam was catching on. I liked the words
at the same time
. There was no use wasting energy when I could get two things done at once. The way I looked at it, I had three problems to solve. One, I had to get Mom to look at the house from a different angle; two, I had to make the street safer by solving the break-in mystery; and three, I had to come up with some money to give to Mom for the monthly budget. Mom and I had already talked about ways of making more money. I had one paper route. I didn't want to take on another one. Sometimes I was chased by a little dog with three legs and sometimes I was chased by a little kid throwing stones at my bike. Selling worms would be a dream job compared to that.

“Now, you start thinking of some ideas to spruce up the old house,” I encouraged Sam. He was probably better at home improvement than me. He liked everything to be neat and clean. He wouldn't even get his fingernails dirty when we tried to see if mud stuck to rocks better than it did to our feet. I was better at the money-making ideas.

“Maybe we could phone one of those home-makeover shows on tv, and they could renovate the house for free,” Sam suggested.

I shook my head. “No, Sam,” I explained patiently. “Think about it. The whole house would look brand new when it was done. Then people would think we were rich. Then our house would be the next one broken into.”

When we got to my house, we looked at it from across the street. Did you ever notice how things look better when you know you might not see them anymore? The house did look sort of old and lopsided, but I liked it that way. It was comfortable. The only thing that looked fresh were all the trees in the backyard. Trees always look good because they grow new leaves every spring. They've got it easy.

“We have to fool Mom into looking at the house from a different angle,” I said. “We need something out front to catch her eye.” I'd seen the pamphlet for the new development. It had a white picket fence, a statue of a fat lady in a toga and a big rose garden in front of it. I'd think of something better. I only had three weeks until the open house. I'd have to move fast.

“Yeah, you're right,” Sam said. “If you had something out front to focus on, your house might just fade into the background. It's got something to do with perspective. I learned that at summer camp last year when we tried to draw a picture of the lake. We had to make the trees in the front of the picture bigger than the ones in the back so the ones in the back looked farther away. It's easy to trick your eye into believing things. Remember how we made those flip books when we were in grade three? We drew stick people on the corners of a pad of paper and then flipped through the sheets as fast as we could. It looked like the stick people were moving. We tricked our eyes into thinking they were.”

Sam was squinting at the house. I guess that makes him think better. He was just about to say something when Tiffany popped into view. She'd just rounded the corner of our street. What a way to wreck the scenery. Her cousin, Trent, was with her. The only good thing I could say about Trent was that his hair wasn't as puffy as Tiffany's. Her head looks like a lampshade, and sometimes her face gets as red and shiny as a Christmas-tree bulb. That's why I called her The Lamp. Tiffany always tries to annoy me. She really doesn't have to try too hard though, because annoying me is the one thing that she's good at. She's mean to every single person she knows. Heck, she probably even taught that little kid how to throw stones at my bike.

“I don't blame them for staring,” Tiffany said loudly to Trent. “If I lived in a house like that, I wouldn't be able to believe my own eyes either. What a dump!”

“Get lost, Tiffany,” I said. “My house is better than yours, and you know it.”

“Better in what way?” she asked. “Better because there's more room for the rats to run around in your backyard?”

“At least I have a backyard,” I answered. “Yours is the size of a stamp. Which is about the size of your brain, so at least you match.”

The Lamp snarled. “Yeah, well I'm glad I don't live on this creepy street. Becky's house has been broken into twice already.”

So it was Becky's house. Both times. I guess they hadn't got what they wanted the first time. Poor Becky. She was so shy already. Now she was probably afraid of her own shadow. Becky is smart. She doesn't talk a lot about herself though. She doesn't need to. She's nice. Do you ever notice how nice people don't talk a lot about themselves? I talk a lot about myself, but usually it's just to Sam. I don't know if that makes me nice or not. There's no question when it comes to Tiffany though. She's definitely not.