Trebuchets - (Read Physics) (Open

[Marcus Hawthorne]

Marcus sent up a silent prayer, thankful that his hands hadn’t caught on the stack of paper. His nervous slip-up with Estelle was already bad enough. Marcus would have positively beamed if he knew Estelle thought of him as “AWESOME.” It was so rare that he was called that or anything nice.

It seemed that the class had no questions or no one was brave enough to ask them. Hopefully he would fix that by the end of the week, if not before then since he had put extra-credit instructions in there. “Alright, so no one has any questions?” he asked rhetorically to the class. “Alright then, down to business.” He clapped his hands together with a loud SMACK, to gather the students’ attention. He started to separate them, but found them stuck (again, though thankfully not to a desk this time) and tried to cover it by raising them to his face, almost like a prayer and thinking. “For your first project you will work in groups that I assign. After call everyone’s name, please move to sit with your group.” He finally separated his fingers with a little strain, and moved to his attendance list. He started listing off names, “Vicky Barnes, Estelle Florez, and Ann Hudgins..” and continued.

Once the class finally re-settled and rustled out notebooks, Marcus jumped into the explanation of the project. “In your groups, you will come up with a design for a trebuchet or catapult made from whatever materials you choose. It must be able to fit in this box” he smiled sardonically as he lifted up the box and showed it to them, “for those who want measurements it is 4tf cubed. And it must be designed to throw a golfball.” He set the box down and then grabbed the golfball, presenting it between his index and thumb. Marcus bounced it off the tile and then caught it.

“Now, you will not be graded on how well you build your trebuchet. Instead you will be graded on how well you can predict the landing place of the golf ball. For that, I will be providing equations for you and we will be going over how to apply them during the next month before your trebuchets are completed. Please, do you have any questions?”

[Vicky Barnes]

“Yeah, I am a part of the newspaper club! Awesome! Nice to be working with you, partner!”
Estelle’s enthusiasm was really contagious! Vicky was glad to have her in the club, if Vicky wouldn’t be able to motivate people, Estelle sure could with that smile and her happy attitude.
“Barnes! Are you by any chance related to the biology teacher?” Estelle beamed, “She is like… one of my favorite people.”
Vicky grinned when Estelle asked about Ingrid. She always loved to brag about the woman. “I am! Mrs. Barnes is my grandmother, actually.”
It felt a little strange to refer to her as ‘Mrs. Barnes’, but what else could she call the woman without sounding crazy? Only her relatives knew of her fondness for making up the strangest nicknames, and Vicky rarely saw the point of informing every single person she met of that habit.
“Oh wait, are you one of her ‘kids’?” Vicky crossed her arms knowingly, “Gran loves turning people into her adopted family, so if you’ve spoken privately with her before, expect an invitation for dinner soon.”

By now the class had quieted down significantly, and Vicky decided it would be best to take a seat now.
Though she quickly had to stand up again as Estelle handed her half of the stack of papers, Vicky nodded as the girl thanked her for her help, and moved to the back of the class to hand out the papers.
“Please pass these on?” she asked quietly as she handed each row enough papers for everyone in said row. It would take far too long if she were to hand everyone their sheet individually.
By sharing the work, the two girls finished handing out all the papers rather swiftly before sitting back down in time to hear the teacher list each group.
“Vicky Barnes, Estelle Florez, and Ann Hudgins..”
“Oh hey, what luck!” she turned to Estelle and smirked, “Less walking for us.” She leaned back in her chair casually as she waited for Ann to join them.
She’d seen Ann in another class before, but had never so much as said a word to her. The girl would always retreat to the back of the class, and so Vicky just assumed she wasn’t very motivated to do anything.

Wait, was this the same person? She glanced over her shoulder at the girl and determined that it was, indeed, the same person she’d spotted when she first entered the room.
Vicky frowned slightly when she noticed how pale the girl was though… was she sick? She sure looked sick, the way she was more or less rolled up in a ball and looking about ready to vomit.
She turned back to Estelle with a mildly worried look, “She looks pretty terrible, doesn’t she?” maybe they should check on her, just to be safe. If she was sick, it would be better if she went to see a nurse.
And so, Vicky stood up, glancing over her shoulder to see if Estelle would follow – if her previous assessment was right, and Ann really was just lazy, she’d need Estelle there to ensure she wouldn’t lecture the girl.

Of course, the teacher went right on to explain his project.
“Now, you will not be graded on how well you build your trebuchet. Instead you will be graded on how well you can predict the landing place of the golf ball. For that, I will be providing equations for you and we will be going over how to apply them during the next month before your trebuchets are completed. Please, do you have any questions?”
Vicky slowly lifted her hand as she thought about what the teacher just said.
“So it really doesn’t matter what it looks like? Will we get extra points if we put in more effort to make it look amazing though?” she didn’t know whether her group mates would be willing to put some extra effort into making the darn thing look good, but it was worth asking, right?

[Estelle Flores]

Estelle grinned widely, “She’s your grandmother? Oh wow! Small world!” She laughed, “I don’t know! I’ve never asked. Oh…” She breathed, looking sheepish and a little thrilled at the prospect of having dinner with the Barnes’, “That would be super cool! She’s one of my favorite teachers. She’s so nice.” She didn’t know if it was weird or not, gushing over a friend’s grandmother, but Estelle figured Vicky wouldn’t mind. She seemed like a really nice person.

Once Mr. Hawthorne read off her name in the group assignments, Estelle beamed happily at Vicky, “Oh yay!” She hopped up a little to scoot their desks closer, “I gotta warn you, though.” She bit her lip self-consciously, “I…am not actually enrolled in this class. I just… snuck in? I’m not all that good at math and science, but I’m gonna try!” She added hastily, “I mean, I know how they work, because I read all about them,” She didn’t want to explain why she did inordinate amount of research on trebuchets. They were interesting, okay? “And I will totally follow all your orders, promise!” She grinned and held up her right hand as if to pledge her loyalties.

She grinned as Vicky asked about making it look good. “Dude, we’re gonna make the most awesome looking trebuchet ever.” She beamed at Vicky and looked over to smile at Ann, who’d made her way over. “Hi, Ann. We didn’t get a chance to really meet and all. How are you doing today?” Ann looked ill and generally uncomfortable, but Estelle wanted to do all she could to make her feel welcome in the group. It was the polite thing to do, after all.

[Ann Hudgins]

Ann gnawed the inside of her lip as he explained the project. To build an apparatus like that...would take a lot of time and planning, in her mind. Ann knew how a trebuchet worked because weapons was something she was raised around--she also happened to know about trebuchets in particular because she had done a History essay about them recently, which was why she had a hard time picturing a miniature and easy-to-make version of one.

It almost got on Ann's nerves when he mentioned using formulas to predict where the golf ball would go. It didn't take a stupid equation to see with your eyes the movement of the trebuchet and the arc of the ball. If anyone in this room had played baseball or basketball as a kid, they would already know that. The call of the formula was just a way for Ann to feel like an idiot.

She nearly missed her name being called out into a group, among the rest, but she lifted her head to look at the two girls from the beginning of class. They were both very nice and friendly and both did not deserve to have a thorn in their side like Ann. She saw the one of them get up, but she had hesitated and in a moment of sheer impulse Ann grabbed her things and moved to sit with them. It wasn't so bad up in this new spot because everyone else had paired up and moved to the far corners of the room--away from her. She tried to smile, but her body was being pulled (metaphorically) in every direction by everyone's conflicted feelings about this stupid project. "H..hi," she replied meekly to the both of them as she adjusted herself in this new seat.

Estelle (that was her name, right?) was being truly nice to her, and Ann could feel her genuine politeness, which brought a true smile to her face (however small). "I...am holding on. Like always." It was a joke, really. She laughed vaguely and then cleared her throat. "Uh--er...I think Popsicle sticks would be an easy way to make the base of it, using cut hair bows--or rubber bands I suppose--as the tension to make it work. And like a Dixie cup for the basket." She was good at imagining things, but not really making them.

"That was my idea anyway. It probably sucks." Self esteem, Ann had none.