Juji -- Teen Investigator

Chapter 6 - "Back Home"

    “What is the sixth planet from the sun?” The host of the television game show was reading from a card as contestants looked around thinking before one contestant hit the button. The bell sounded, and the host turned to that contestant.

    “Is it Jupiter?” asked the first girl.

    “No, I’m sorry. That’s the fifth planet,” replied the host as he read from his card.

    Grandpa paused the video and confronted me, “Do you know which is the sixth planet?”

    “It’s Saturn,” I responded without looking up. I was sitting on the floor reading from my History book at the coffee table. This was the position that was most comfortable for me while studying and researching notes in the afternoon. Grandpa loved watching game shows but rarely answered questions correctly.

    “I think it’s Uranus,” said Grandpa.

    “No, that’s the eighth planet,” I replied. The solar system was one of the things I’d studied in General Science my Freshman year at Pixley. It wasn’t difficult or confusing. It was simple memorization of the planets in the correct order and their distance from the sun.

    Back to the television, Grandpa started the video and turned the volume up, “I’m sorry. The answer is... Saturn. “The contestants all looked around surprised. “Our next category is Geography. What is the westernmost state in the US?”

    “It’s Washington,” answered Grandpa quickly. “I believe that state reaches farther west than California.”

    I didn’t like competing for answers but had to give the correct answer before the contestants or the host, “The westernmost state is Alaska, Grandpa. It’s also the northernmost, and easternmost state.”

    “How can that be,” Grandpa mumbled. “Alaska’s not much bigger than Texas.”

    Contestants called out answers of “California”, “Washington” and “Hawaii”, but they were all wrong. “No, the correct answer is Alaska,” answered the confused host as he read from the card. The game show continued, and Grandpa seemed confused.

    “Measurements are all made on an international scale,” I said. “So what may appear farther east or west at the equator does not transfer to a global computation.”

    Grandpa was proud and as usual, began complimenting my knowledge. “You should be a contestant on this show, Juji! What does it take to apply for something like that?”

    “There are strict age limitations and rules against minors competing for financial rewards.” This was a conversation Grandpa and I had many times.

    “Why is that? Intelligence should be the only requirement. That’s what I think.”

    “That’s just the rule. Contestants must be twenty-one years or older,” I replied without looking up.

    “Well, maybe in seven years,” answered Grandpa with excitement. “You can get on this show and make some money! Just keep studying and getting A’s, and you can win a million dollars. And me and Grandma will be watching.”

    “Prizes awarded peak at one hundred thousand,” I replied as I opened the calculator on my phone. “Twenty-five percent of that will be withheld for taxes of course, and a fifteen percent tax is added to all income. Then a seven-point two five percent sales tax rate will be charged for all purchases over the counter...” When I finished the calculations, I read from my phone, “And that would leave me with fifty-two thousand, seven hundred and fifty dollars... nearly enough for four-year public college -- without a scholarship.”

    “Well, you’ll have the scholarship,” he said. “Then you can use more money for graduate school, and law school... and maybe medical school too!”

    “I’m just moving one day at a time, and first is high school.”

     When the game show commercials started, Grandpa hit the mute button on the remote control, “Juji? What are you studying?”

    “It’s just one of the most important developments in the fifteenth century, which often goes unrecognized.”

    “What’s that?” asked Grandpa. “The bicycle?”

    “No, that was not until 1817” I replied with a smile. “The printing press was invented in 1440, and that was the beginning of actual documentation of history.”

    “Oh... And I guess that was the beginning of newspapers and books,” replied Grandpa with a laugh. “But I guess that invention is now being replaced with computers.”

    I continued, “Johannes Gutenberg actually created the press to inexpensively print documents and entire books. His movable type press opened the doors to the recognition of all historical facts -- the facts I’m reading about right now.”

    “Okay! It’s ready!” Grandma yelled from the kitchen, as she carried out serving dishes of meatloaf and vegetables to the dining room table.

    “Oh! It sure smells good,” replied Grandpa as he got up and walked over to the table. “I’m in the mood for one of Grandma’s specialties. This is a dinner your Mom always loved when she was growing up!”

    “Yes, it’s truly one of my favorites too,” I replied as I closed my laptop, turned off my phone and put my book back into the backpack. I then walked over to my usual spot at the table and sat down.

    “Grandma’s been making this every Wednesday night since your Mom was younger than you,” said Grandpa with a laugh.

    “And my mom made it for me,” replied Grandma. “And I’m gonna teach you so you can make it for your kids one day.”

    Everyone was quiet as we passed around serving dishes and began eating. I honestly wasn’t a big fan of Grandma’s meatloaf but would never show anything but appreciation. I saw a large distinction between telling a lie and saying something that wasn’t true.

    Grandpa finally turned and asked, “What’s your latest investigation, Juji? Tell us some details. Have you uncovered any scandals or unusual mishaps going on at the school again?”

    I didn’t want to talk about a subject based strictly on suspicion but felt I must answer the question. “Well, there are always suspicious activities going on around the school that I’m looking into.”

    “What is it now? A student forgot to do his homework?” asked Grandma sarcastically. She was always critical of my investigations.

    “No, this is a little more serious,” I replied.

    Grandma knew the previous year, I got a teacher fired for accepting reports with plagiarized data showing studies of gravitational effects. I respected that teacher and his work, but could not accept the lack of attention given to historic documentation.

    I also exposed two students skipping classes while maintaining C average grades in a Literary English class. He was an elderly teacher who stopped calling role to save time, and students were skipping class to hang out at a nearby coffee shop. The teacher was not fired but was forced to begin following the rules of role call.

    Another investigation, outside of school, was a teenage neighbor breaking into garages on a downtown street. He used simple dog biscuits to silence pets while lifting a variety of tools and articles from a variety of garages. This investigation led to the discovery of items being sold at a weekly garage sale five miles away.

    “Investigating a serious crime is not for kids. You’re a little school girl about to graduate high school, and you’re getting involved in serious crimes,” answered Grandma as she shook her head. “That sounds dangerous.”

    I was used to the discouraging attitude, but my diligent analysis and refusal to accept impractical excuses were necessary. And that was the one consistent standout in all my investigations.

    Grandpa then spoke up, trying to change the subject. “Did you take any tests today?”

    “No, I have the History test tomorrow,” I said quietly.

    “Is that the quiz in fourteenth-century Europe you were talking about?”

    “The fourteen hundreds is the fifteenth century,” I replied.

    “How can fourteen hundreds be fifteen...” mumbled Grandpa with a confused look.

    “And yes, that’s the subject of tomorrow’s History exam.”

    Grandma seemed annoyed by my quick response. “I think History is one class that doesn’t teach anything a person can use in a regular life.”

    “I think there’s no limit to what you could learn in World History,” said Grandpa. “That could go back a million years.”

    “Sounds like a class you could just take again next year. I think you need another year at the high school,” answered Grandma in her usual critical tone.

     I didn’t answer but continued eating quietly.

    Grandpa then replied, “From what I’ve heard so far, it sounds like another ‘A’ on the way!”

    “It’s just a simple test that will account for thirty-three percent of my overall grade for the semester,” I replied. “Not a big deal. I know I’ll get another one hundred percent.”

    “You’re setting goals too high sounds to me.” Grandma was always critical of my class schedule and grades. “Stop overreacting and just settle for regular grades, like all the other kids.”

    “Juji is an exceptional student,” answered Grandpa. “She can’t help it.”

    “She should take less classes and not always have to just set records and be the top student.”

    I was always determined to do just the opposite. I wanted to succeed in every class by overdoing expectations and accomplishing scores way above average. These were the goals I was very proud of. “Okay Grandma,” I answered while taking another bite of my meatloaf.

    “You’re too young to even be thinking of college. You need to spend one more year as just an average high school student. Then you’ll learn to socialize with other students, and make new friends -- people your own age that you can communicate with! And then you can just start being a normal girl.”

    “Yes mam,” I replied politely. I didn’t want to participate in another argument about my future. Grandpa remained silent, but Grandma continued.

    “Help me out Gerald,” she said to Grandpa. “Juji is in way over her head. She’s a fourteen-year-old kid, who is one year away from college. That means starting a whole new life with adults. She won't be ready to get a job or go to college for at least a couple more years.”

    “Juji’s on track for setting a new school record. She’ll be the youngest graduating student in Pixley history, right?”

    I gave no response but continued looking down when Grandpa continued.

    “The last time I checked, she’s earned all A’s, and she’ll be graduating with a never-before-achieved four-year perfect grade point average.”

    I nodded my head politely and continued eating.

    Grandpa continued, “Is that something we can expect? Will you be the youngest graduating student in Pixley High School history!”

    “Yeah.”

    “And you’ll be Valedictorian?”

    Grandpa continued. “And you’ll be setting the record for the highest GPA in four years at Pixley High School?”

    I was quiet but felt I had to respond to that. “Several students have graduated with a four-point zero grade point average,” I replied. “It’s not that uncommon.”

    “She’s just an average girl,” said Grandpa.

    “But with the advanced classes she’s taking? With no free period? And the time she’s putting in? I bet no one has ever come close to that,” said Grandpa. “Am I right?”

    I loved Grandpa’s encouragement and pride and smiled before answering. “One male student also graduated with a four-point zero grade point average five years ago. But he had one free period and did not take the advanced Calculus class I’m taking. So I think I’ll be setting some school records.”

    “I told you,” replied Grandpa with pride.

    “But that boy was probably on a bunch of teams in different sports, and a bunch of clubs, and probably participated in many school activities,” inserted Grandma immediately with an annoyed look on her face. “Juji is not involved in anything! And she’s not even ready for graduation.”

    We had this argument many times, and I always sat quietly waiting for the conversation to stop.

    Grandpa finally stepped in and surprised me. “Juji, your Grandma may be right. Why don’t you just plan one more year of high school? You can get another report card of all A’s, maybe join some clubs, and turn into a young lady completely prepared for college.”

    “No thank you,” I replied. “I’ll be fifteen when I graduate, and I’m planning a summer of classes at the local university. I will first be working on a two-year Associate’s Degree on scholarship. I can ride my bike to school in the mornings and work in the afternoons. I’ll then begin pursuing a Bachelor’s Degree under full scholarship, and maybe get a partial loan for a graduate school degree in law.”

    Grandma and Grandpa were surprised to hear specific plans and the work I’d put in organizing a layout of my future studies. All again became silent, as we cut into our meatloaf.

    Grandma finally mumbled to herself, “I’ll do whatever I can to have you start acting your own age.” She then got up and walked into the kitchen.

    Grandpa then smiled and told me, “I couldn’t be more proud of you. You’re a fourteen-year-old adult.”

    Half of my plate was still full, but I knew I had a big night of both investigating and studying planned. I took another bite before asking politely, “May I be excused?”

    Grandma immediately walked back in. “This is a meal I’ve been cooking all afternoon, and now you want to just throw it in the trash? Gerald, she’s gotta start looking at the big picture. We can’t just sit back and let her...”

    “Yes, Juji,” replied Grandpa. “You may be excused. Just keep bringing in those A-plus grades.”

    “Thank you, Grandpa.” I got up and carried my plate into the kitchen. I then walked over to the couch, picked up my books, laptop, and computer phone, and loaded them into my backpack.

    I could hear the ongoing conversation continuing at the dinner table as I headed for my bedroom.

    “Why do you encourage this grownup attitude?” asked Grandma. “That’s not right for a child.”

    “What are you talking about? She has a great attitude. She puts her schoolwork above everything else... And she’s always willing to go that extra mile to achieve perfection. She’s just like both her Mom and Dad, and that ain’t easy.”

    I hated listening to the arguments and just wanted to be alone. My strongest goal in life was to rise to the level of my parents, but my biggest fright was giving in to that fear of losing -- and giving up.

    Sitting at my computer I immediately began reviewing historical data from the fifteenth century. It was imperative that I not only reach my usual standard by answering every question on the test correctly but maintain my consistent perfect score.

    I also planned to finish the exam and hand in my test first. I had proudly maintained that consistency all my time at Pixley. But in order to do that, I must be prepared for all possible questions on the test and be confident enough to answer fast.

    While uploading and studying World History notes and photos of information written on the whiteboard, I found further historical inconsistencies and examined their foundation using on-line documentation. What exactly led to the fall of the Western European empire, and what were the events that played key roles in the development of the Renaissance.

    I was caught off guard when pictures of the Triumph convertible popped up. History was important, but I needed to review close-up photos I had documented with video of the teenage students. I also wanted to research information I had uncovered in my conversation with Hank, the security guard.

    First came the car. I knew it was made by Triumph in 1965. Immediately, pictures of the original car came up, and I was quickly able to identify the Triumph model as the TR-4A. I captured pictures and loaded them into specific files.

    Historical information showed the car manufacturer was Triumph, made in England until 1967. This special convertible car showed prime value as a displayed antique and showed a value greater than a practical form of transportation.

    The license plate of the car was missing, making it impossible to identify a possible owner of the car. I conducted searches online of that model registered at the local Department of Motor Vehicles.

    Again, nothing came up. According to the DMV, that car did not legally exist in the city. I was determined to find the name of the owner but reluctantly gave up searching for legal documentation.

    I pulled up assorted photos of the car that ran me off the road. Although photos were taken from a distance, I felt comfortable confirming that it was the same car, a black TR-4A.

    In the parking lot, the driver of the car was hard to identify. I sorted through a variety of photos and still frames of video. He was wearing the red cap and the black shirt; and with the out-of-focus photos, I could not confirm that it was the same boy driving the car.

    When I opened the out of focus video of the boy in the principal’s secretary’s office, the boy was not wearing the same red cap. But when I captured shots of the two profiles and zoomed in, I was sure they were the same. The boy in the TR-4A was definitely the same boy in Miss Dana’s office.

    Searching for further identification, I zoomed in to a variety of shots of his face and wrinkles, I guessed his age to be in his mid-twenties. This meant if he was a graduate of Pixley High School, I could surely identify him for a high school yearbook.

    Next came the assortment of photos I had taken. I opened photos and video and zoomed in on the possible exchange I had witnessed. I lined up shots of students surrounding the car in the afternoon. By zooming in and capturing each student’s face, I felt confident that I could document every student’s name and history from information in the school library.

    “Knock, knock, knock.”

    The sudden knock on my bedroom door came as a surprise. It could mean further questioning of my unapproved investigation, which would require justification. Or it could be simple discouragement from risking my life by asking unnecessary questions.

    “Just a minute,” I answered politely before I shut down my computer, closed my computer notebook, and set my phone to recharge. I then walked over and opened the door. It was Grandpa.

    “Juji, I just want to let you know,” he said. “I respect your dreams and your work ethic. I know you’re going to set all the records at your high school and then lead the way at college.”

    “Thanks, Grandpa,” I replied. “I will continue my pursuit of four perfect years at Pixley.”

    “Wanna talk about what you are investigating now?” said Grandpa as he looked around at my computer accessories.

    “No, I don’t have enough evidence yet for unfounded accusations,” I responded. “I have lots of suspicions, but I’m still conducting the investigation. I’ve got a ways to go.”

    “So, you’re still building the case, hunh?” asked Grandpa. “Is it a student, a neighbor, or someone in the school faculty?”

    “It’s someone ‘outside’ the school... involved in a questionable activity ‘inside’ the school,” I said nervously. “But I can’t say more until I have documentation of wrongdoing.”

    Grandpa smiled and gave me a hug, “I knew it! My little girl is investigating another mystery... and solving another case. Both your parents would be so proud!”

    “Thank you, Grandpa,” I replied. “It’s just something I can’t resist doing.”

    “Now you go to bed. It’s too late to be studying.”

    Grandpa closed the door as he walked out, and I turned off the light and climbed into bed. I couldn’t stop thinking about the man driving the TR-4A car.

    How did he get that car? Where did he get the money? Who were these students? What was being exchanged? What was his relation to Ms. Dana, the secretary? What was his relation with Hank, the security guard? And did I have enough evidence adding up to merit a confrontation?

    As I lay there calculating, the homework assignment from my Calculus class occurred to me. That calculation would be due in my second class, and I hadn’t started. Although the calculation would have no impact on my semester grade, I could not ignore the assignment.

    I got up and walked back over to my backpack and pulled out my Calculus notebook. As tempted as I was to continue my research on the student exchange, I had to complete all my calculations.

    Immediately, I removed my phone and sorted through pictures defining details of the assignment. I then turned on my computer and began researching Newton’s calculations and writing down details into my notebook.

    Dr. Leonard was right. Five-point two was a complex measure of the second fundamental theorem of all calculus problems.