That afternoon, after school, I found a printer in Towson in the Yellow Pages. I called and asked if they did business cards and how much they were, and got the directions. The next day I rode my bike to school, and after school rode into Towson. The guy at the front desk thought I was full of shit until I laid a twenty down on the counter, at which point he blinked hard and began to help. It was a simple card really, no artwork or logos, just printed on a pebble finish heavy white stock, with
Carling Parker Buckman, II
(I'm named after my grandfather) across the center in a heavy font, and under that
Scholar Adventurer Soldier of Fortune
in a smaller serif font, and then down in the lower right hand corner, my home phone number, discreetly done in a sans serif font, all done in a glossy black. It actually looked rather classy.
I won the fiver from my friend along with some brownie points at school, but it all proved to be a bit of a mixed bag, at least at home. Hamilton got seriously bent out of shape about my business cards. First he decided to complain about them at the dinner table, and about how I was breaking the law doing this. My parents were kind of curious about why I would bother, and when they refused to have me destroy the cards and otherwise punish me, he ran down to our room and started scribbling on them with a Magic Marker. I caught him at this and called mom down to our bedroom to show her. He stood there with ink on his fingers and denied everything. That got him walloped by Dad with the oak pledge paddle. When I asked about getting paid for the cards he had ruined, Dad tossed me my brother's wallet, and I lifted out a five. This caused Ham to start fighting and screaming, and got him spanked a second time. I took the remaining cards and locked them in a foot locker I had.
Professor Milhaus looked at my card. "Mister Buckman. Sorry about that. How can I help you?"
"Professor, I'm a student over at Towsontown Junior High and my partner and I are working on a science fair project related to tar in cigarettes. I know you've done at least one paper on that and I was hoping for at least a little education."
His eyes lit up at that. "Yes, I can certainly help you. What did you have in mind?"
I quickly outlined my plans and asked for any advice he had to offer. Considering he understood what I planned, it went a lot faster than with Shelley. He followed along easily.
"Well, it's an ambitious plan, but nothing too unusual. Ambitious at least for high school. You go to Towson High?", he asked.
"Uh, no sir, Towsontown Junior High. We're in the ninth grade."
"Good lord! How old are you?"
"I just turned 14 a few weeks ago."
He stared at me for a second. "You're only 14? I've had worse explanations and plans from grad students! What do you plan to study after you graduate?"
"I want to get a degree in math or computers."
"Can I interest you in chemistry?", he asked with a smile.
Oh, Professor Milhaus, if you only knew. "Sorry, I think it'll be math.", I said, smiling back.
"What about your partner? What are they doing?"
I must have given a wry smile at that, because he raised an eyebrow at me. "Shelley is more the facilities and logistics end of the partnership, while I handle the science portion."
"Facilities and logistics?"
"It's in her basement.", I said with a shrug.
He looked askance at me. "Her basement, huh. Just for the sake of idle curiosity, is Shelley pretty?"
"Scientists are human, too, Professor." That got a good laugh from him.
We then got down to brass tacks. He made several suggestions for improving the project. He also gave me a small stack of scientific papers on cigarette tar. I asked about bringing a sample of the tar over and having it analyzed. They had a new gas chromatograph which would be useful on this, but it would end up using most of the first sample we created. Shelley and I would also list his name as an academic adviser. It was a fair request - he would get some credit for a community service type project for the college, and we could get some time from him.
I bundled up my paperwork and went back outside. I rode home through a cold wind and decided that the next time I needed to go over to the college, I would call and make an appointment and get somebody to drive me.
The next day at lunch I told Shelley about meeting Professor Milhaus over at Towson State, and how he had offered to give us some help. She was amazed at what I had achieved. So far she had simply managed to get her father to come and take the vacuum pump home. It was now sitting on the old table in her basement. We decided I would ride the bus home with her and I could see what the lab looked like. As soon as lunch broke, I found the pay phone at the school and called Dad to let him know I was changing my schedule, and that I would call when I needed a lift from Shelley's; he would let Mom know in turn.
The ride to Shelley's was interesting. She lived in our development, but on the other side of Charmuth Road, so she was on a different bus. We got a lot of questions when I got on with her, and then sat next to her, and she proudly proclaimed she was my partner in the Science Fair. For some reason this seemed to give her an improvement in status, which I couldn't fathom. She was already in the 'popular' clique; why worry about being smart? I don't claim to understand women.
I was already the King of the Nerds, and fully graced with all the rights and privileges of said kingdom. It was a rather dubious honor. The rights and privileges seemed few and far between.
Shelley lived about a half block from where we got off the bus, and as we walked to her house she tucked an arm in mine. This was the first physical touch that she had initiated, and I liked it. Maybe the King of the Nerds had some hidden rights. Droit du seigneur seemed a bit of a stretch, but I'd be willing to go along. We walked to her house, bumping hips and laughing. She let us in, telling me that her parents were both at work for another couple of hours. Interesting!
Before anything else could happen, I needed to see the lab area. The basement was well enough lit, if a bit dusty. The table was in the corner, with an old vacuum pump sitting on it. I looked around but couldn't find an electric outlet, so Shelley looked and found one on the other side of the room. I picked up the pump and moved it off the table, and then we both picked up the table and carried it across the room. Then I grabbed the pump and set it up again. "You got any rags and Windex or something?", I asked. Everything was fairly dusty.
"Upstairs."
"Can you go up and grab a bunch, please? We need to do some cleaning first."
She scampered up the stairs and came back down a few minutes later with an armload of old rags and a bottle of Windex. I grinned when I saw her. "Professor Milhaus asked what you were doing, and I said you were Facilities and Logistics. I was right!" This didn't get the response I expected, since Shelley didn't know what either facilities or logistics meant. Oh, dear. Well, she was very ornamental.
We cleaned up the table and the vacuum pump, which was old and a little dirty and greasy. We still needed a power cord to connect up the pump, which made an ungodly racket when running, but it looked like it would work. I found a wrench and took off the suction end of the pump and stuck it in my backpack. I would need to go by the hardware store and come up with a filtration cavity. I told Shelley I would get my father to take me to the hardware store on Saturday and try and figure out something we could use, probably from plumbing supplies. With any luck we could have a working model next week.