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  ALSO BY GARY PAULSEN

  Alida’s Song • The Amazing Life of Birds • The Beet Fields

  The Boy Who Owned the School

  The Brian Books: The River, Brian’s Winter, Brian’s Return, and Brian’s Hunt

  Canyons • Caught by the Sea: My Life on Boats

  The Cookcamp • The Crossing • Danger on Midnight River

  Dogsong • Father Water, Mother Woods • Flat Broke

  The Glass Café • Guts: The True Stories Behind

  Hatchet and the Brian Books

  Harris and Me • Hatchet

  The Haymeadow • How Angel Peterson Got His Name

  The Island • Lawn Boy • Lawn Boy Returns

  The Legend of Bass Reeves • Liar, Liar • Masters of Disaster

  Molly McGinty Has a Really Good Day

  The Monument • Mudshark • My Life in Dog Years

  Nightjohn • The Night the White Deer Died

  Notes from the Dog • Paintings from the Cave

  Puppies, Dogs, and Blue Northers

  The Quilt • The Rifle

  Sarny: A Life Remembered • The Schernoff Discoveries

  Soldier’s Heart • The Time Hackers • The Transall Saga

  Tucket’s Travels (The Tucket’s West series, Books One through Five)

  The Voyage of the Frog • The White Fox Chronicles

  The Winter Room • Woods Runner

  Picture books, illustrated by Ruth Wright Paulsen

  Canoe Days and Dogteam

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2012 by Gary Paulsen

  Jacket art copyright © 2012 by James Bernardin

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Wendy Lamb Books, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  Wendy Lamb Books and the colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  Visit us on the Web! randomhouse.com/kids

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at randomhouse.com/teachers

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-97453-2

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

  v3.1

  This book is dedicated to my

  friends at Gilda’s Club and

  St. Philip’s Academy in

  Newark, New Jersey,

  and to Betsy Buell,

  who brought us all together.

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Foreword

  Chapter 1 - The Scientific Mind Knows That Science Is the Search for Truth in the Natural World

  Chapter 2 - The Scientific Mind Believes that Observing the Behavior of Test Subjects Is Essential

  Chapter 3 - The Scientific Mind Appreciates Historical Data and the Contemporary Scene

  Chapter 4 - The Scientific Mind Embraces Experimental Difficulties

  Chapter 5 - The Scientific Mind Comprehends Variation in Romantic Behavior

  Chapter 6 - The Scientific Mind Relishes the Mixing of Two Elements

  Chapter 7 - The Scientific Mind Studies Truth vs. Theories

  Chapter 8 - The Scientific Mind Compares Science and Society

  Chapter 9 - The Scientific Mind Never Misses the Obvious

  Chapter 10 - The Scientific Mind Is Sometimes Clueless

  Chapter 11 - The Scientific Mind Could Learn a Lot from Markie

  Chapter 12 - The Scientific Mind Strives to Make Concluding Observations

  Chapter 13 - The Scientific Mind Is No Match for Action

  Chapter 14 - The Scientific Mind Is Self-Correcting

  About the Author

  Foreword

  I’m the most romantic guy you’ll ever meet.

  Potentially, that is.

  I’m only fourteen, but I’ve known for as long as I can remember that love makes the world go round, love is all there is, love is all you need. They’re universal rules. Cosmic inevitabilities.

  If you ask me, people who aren’t in touch with what it takes to be a great date are just heathens.

  I guess I should admit that I don’t actually have a girlfriend at the moment. In fact, I’ve never even gone out on a date. Still, I don’t think that’s the gold standard for determining if a guy would make a good boyfriend or not.

  See, I’ve learned that the best way to make other people like you is to show them how great you think they are. I’ve been practicing this technique on my family and friends; it’s not romantic, of course, but it’s good experience for when I eventually have a girlfriend. I’m working up to romance. Someday. I think that’s where a lot of guys go wrong; they don’t develop sufficient interpersonal skills before they start dating.

  I know I have the potential to excel at romance because I’m thoughtful, charming and considerate with people who are important to me.

  To my best friend, JonPaul, I’ve said: “Buddy, you’re going to be the only middle school student scouted by Major League Baseball. If there’s a record you haven’t broken, JonPaul, I don’t want to know about it.”

  To my sorta friend Connie, I’ve said: “You’re going to blow them away when you go to the mock Congress. That electoral-vote bar graph and general-population pie chart you put together were really informative.”

  To my enemy Katie, I’ve said: “We’re lucky to have an academic role model like you in our class. Those girls were just jealous when they called you a curve-wrecker. Sure, you might skew the average and make the rest of us look bad, but that’s our fault for not studying as hard as you do.”

  Out of context, this all sounds like I might have been laying it on a little thick, but in the heat of the moment, I was gold; JonPaul, Connie and Katie didn’t even know it was happening, but my stock was rising in their eyes during those conversations.

  I wasn’t lying; I don’t lie.

  Not anymore.

  And I wasn’t trying to get anyone to do anything for me at their expense. I don’t manipulate people.

  Not anymore.

  But there’s nothing wrong with making folks like you by telling them what you know will make them feel better about themselves.

  Although I lack what you could call practical experience, I appreciate girls. Or, more precisely, one girl. Tina. Katrina Maria Zabinski, whom I have known most of my life but only noticed recently.

  The ideal girlfriend.

  Tina’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen; everything about her—hair, face, clothes—looks like an entire glam squad just got done working on her. Her laugh sounds like bells or angels or something so wonderful words haven’t been invented yet to describe it. She’s got a lot of friends and she actually seems to like them, and they like her, unlike some of the kids in this school, who pick friends based on popularity even if they don’t particularly get along.

  I’m also the perfect potential boyfriend, a combination of all that I believe girls look for in future dates. I’m understanding and sensitive, but not to the point of looking like I’m close to writing poetry and talking about my feelings. While I’m not a prize athlete like my best buddy, JonPaul, I don’t let down my team on the field or the court. I get good grades, but I’m not one of those brainiacs who make you worry they’re going to correct your grammar. I do the best with what I’ve got. Most important, I’ve got a great outlook on life, and that’s got to be a sure way to anyone’s heart.
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  I’m not bragging or conceited, I’m just pointing out the obvious.

  Tina and I are perfect for each other.

  Of course, it’s all in theory right now. I haven’t had a chance to break out my inner chivalry yet.

  Because the one thing I lack is the experience to know how to let Tina know that I think about her all the time and I’d like to stand close enough to her to smell her hair and I’d like to open doors for her and stand between her and traffic on sidewalks and share private jokes that only she and I get—how to let her know all that without freaking her out that I’m an obsessive, creepy stalker. I’m the kind of guy who’d know exactly the right things to say about her to make her feel so good about herself that she’d start to feel good about me.

  I have a knack for reading people and being aware of their feelings, though, so I’m pretty sure all I need to do is put my mind to it and, before I know it, I’ll have this romance thing down.

  I used to think like that.

  Before my life went all kittywampus on me.

  The Scientific Mind Knows That Science Is the Search for Truth in the Natural World

  lthough I’d realized six or eight weeks ago that I was crazy about Tina Zabinski and I wanted to go on a date with her the same way I want to keep converting oxygen into carbon dioxide, I’d been playing it cool, taking it slow. I was waiting for the exact right moment to present itself before making my move.

  That’s better than saying that I couldn’t remember how to speak when she came near and I tended to fall down when she noticed me.

  I’d planned to ask her out recently; I had the perfect first date in mind, one that would show her how lucky she was to be with a guy like me. The school dance. But I didn’t actually ask her. Thought about it, sure; planned to do it, absolutely; came right out and asked, not a chance.

  I’d thought I had all the time in the world to work on connecting the mind-mouth function when I was near her. Until I walked into the school cafeteria on Monday and saw some male-model wannabe sitting next to Tina at a lunch table. He was leaning in as he talked to her—close enough to smell her hair—and she laughed at something he said. I knew in an instant that I was in deep trouble. And that I’d run out of time.

  I went straight to my best buddy, JonPaul, who was sprinkling extra wheat germ on his organic peanut butter and raw honey sandwich. JonPaul is a health nut.

  “Who’s that?” I tilted my head toward Tina’s table.

  “The new kid.”

  “What new kid?”

  “Cash Devine.”

  “That’s his actual name?”

  “Yup.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  “That’s the fakest thing I ever heard.”

  JonPaul shrugged and swallowed a handful of vitamins with his soy milk.

  “How do you know him?” I asked.

  “He’s in my math class.”

  “What’s he doing at Tina’s table?”

  “She was assigned to show him around school, help get him familiar with everything.”

  “Since when did a welcome guide become standard operating procedure around here?”

  “I dunno. Are those organic grapes in your lunch? And if they are, can I have them? I haven’t been getting enough fiber lately and the skins would really help me out.”

  “Yeah.” I shoved what I knew to be run-of-the-mill produce reeking of pesticides toward him as fast as I could, trying to avoid a conversation about what happens to JonPaul’s digestive tract when he’s fiber-deprived. Been there, done that, have the horrible mental images.

  He lined up the grapes next to his baby carrots, Greek yogurt, hardboiled eggs and stone-ground gluten-free crackers. I ate a handful of chocolate-covered potato chips while I studied Tina and the Threat.

  Cash caught me looking at him when Tina turned to talk to the girl on her other side, and he headed toward me, a big cheesy grin on his face.

  “Cash. Cash Devine. Good to know you.”

  He sounded like the politicians at the Labor Day parade who hand out mini-flags and ask for your support on Election Day.

  “Hey,” I grunted back. “Name’s Kevin.”

  “JonPaul,” he said, slapping my best friend on the back, “math is gonna be rough, buddy; hope I can count on you for some help.”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you know if my guide, Tina, has a boyfriend? She’s really hot.”

  I didn’t hear JonPaul’s reply; I saw his lips moving, but the pressure in my ears from my brain freak-out deafened me.

  No.

  No way.

  No flipping way.

  That plastic-looking, fake-named, phony-friendly doofus wasn’t going to waltz into my school and take my girlfriend away from me. Especially when I hadn’t had the chance to make her my girlfriend yet.

  I had to get away from Cash before I did something embarrassing, like slug him or watch my head explode all over JonPaul’s surgeon general–approved lunch. I mumbled some excuse about getting a homework assignment and bailed.

  I saw my friends Katie and Connie and made a beeline for their table. Okay, I’m stretching things a bit calling them friends. I think Connie likes me just fine, but I’m not sure she trusts me. I am positive Katie neither likes nor trusts me. We have a history. It’s a long story and I look bad at the end. But that didn’t stop me.

  “Hey, mind if I sit with you two?” I said with what I was sure was the furthest thing from the phony smile Cash had given me. I’d practiced in the mirror. Smiles that are both big and genuine take effort, and I’d wanted to make sure that when I finally got around to talking to Tina, I had the right look on my face. Friendly, but not frantic. Confident, but not smug. It takes work to hit that perfect balance.

  “Sure.” Connie moved her books so I could sit across from them. Katie said nothing, but at least she didn’t dump her enchilada on my lap. I took that as progress.

  “I need a woman’s point of view,” I told them.

  Connie blushed. Katie glared at me.

  “Have you met the new guy?” I rolled my eyes in Cash’s direction. Connie blushed deeper and Katie nodded. “What do you think of him, guy-wise? I mean, is he the kind of guy who rocks your world?”

  “Why?” Katie asked, suspicion oozing from every pore of her body.

  “I’m interested in learning what girls find attractive. Especially girls like you.” Flattery is a good technique for getting information from someone.

  “Oh.” Katie looked confused. She hasn’t been uncertain about anything since before potty training, so I felt a tiny thrill at bamboozling her.

  Connie looked thoughtful. “He’s very good-looking.”

  “Girls like that?”

  “Sure, but it’s not everything.”

  “What else do you look for?”

  “Personality.” Katie was staring at me with an odd expression that I couldn’t understand, but I liked her answer; I am Mr. Personality.

  “Cool. What—” The bell rang before I could ask any more questions, and everyone started hurrying out of the cafeteria. I watched Tina and Cash walk down the hall together as I headed toward my next class.

  Clearly, I’d been panicking in the clutch just because I didn’t have enough information about romance. Once I collected enough data, I’d make Tina forget all about that guy and his straight teeth and perfect hair and big shoulders.

  I just had to figure out how to figure out girls.

  Guys have been getting girls to fall in love with them for millions of years. My only problem was that I’d never applied myself before. But that was about to change. Big-time.

  The Scientific Mind Believes that Observing the Behavior of Test Subjects Is Essential

  was sitting in class after lunch pretending to pay attention, but really I was planning my next move.

  Love is about chemistry, right? Chemistry is science.

  I’d been reading a copy of The Structure of Scientific Revolut
ions I’d found in our basement. It’s a classic, I guess. Good thing Mom’s old schoolbook was highlighted so I could skip around and only read the important parts. I’d never have been able to make sense of it otherwise.

  I was reading it because I was going to take a scientific approach to matters of the heart. I’d apply the principles of forming a hypothesis, then research, study, observe and experiment to understand the chemistry between males and females. Empirical, objective and systematic data collection and analysis and the study of culture and society would help me figure out this girl thing. Sounds complicated, but it’s just a fancy way to say I was going to do some girl-watching.

  If I wanted to unleash my inner Casanova, I’d have to tap into my inner, umm, Copernicus. Or some genius like him.

  The simplest route, of course, would be to ask Tina out and see what happened. But only the foolish scientist experiments on himself; look at the tragedy of Madame Curie, who was poisoned and actually died after testing radiation on herself. Men and women of science who know their history study subjects other than themselves in order to achieve a clear-eyed perspective. Not to mention results that don’t injure or kill them.

  I needed to observe someone close by. Where to start?

  Aha! My parents.

  I know there’s nothing romantic about anybody’s parents. But clinically speaking, they’ve been married for … wow, I’m fourteen, Daniel’s fifteen and Sarah’s sixteen, so, um, forever. They’d be an excellent home lab launch.

  I flipped open a notebook and started listing what I knew about my parents and their relationship, because the science book had said: “Knowing the rules and standards of a preexisting situation is imperative.”

  Here are Rules of the Spencer House as I’ve noticed them:

  (1) Don’t mess with Mom after a long day at the bookstore.

  (2) Don’t mess with Dad after a bad day on the golf course.

  Interesting corollary: Mom’s hobbies never make her crabby, and Dad leaves his troubles at the office.

  Okay, find out what blisters Tina’s behind and then don’t do that.

  I was off to an excellent start.