最后的机会

安落实

Rachel Pettingill. As Truman trudged1） home from school， he repeated the name in his head. Throughout third grade， and the year before， Rachel Pettingill had earned the highest science grade in the class. The truth was， she scored highest in every subject.

Truman was used to being second best to Rachel. "But science is my thing，" he declared to a stop sign. Truman's parents were scientists， and he would be a scientist. That was just a fact. And somehow， with only one week and one assignment to go before summer， he and Rachel were tied2）. Dead even3）. To .nish on top4）， his last report had to be great. It had to be better than great.

The subject of the project was beehives5）. Truman's class had studied bees for three days， so he was ready. But， as his teacher Mrs. Lawrence had explained， to earn an A+， he needed a "new angle".

Truman pushed open the front door to find his four-year-old brother， Bryan， sprawled6） on the living room rug， hard at work. Paper towel tubes were all over the floor. Bryan leaped to his feet. "Truman， help me build a city！"

"I'd like to，" Truman shrugged， "but I have to do a report on beehives and—"

"Can I help you？" Bryan begged.

"I don't think so， Bryan. Sorry."

Truman went to his room， dropped onto the bed， and studied the ceiling. Rachel's report would be pretty ordinary but perfectly executed and accompanied by one of her incredible drawings. Truman had to come up with something great， but what？

"Truman？" Bryan poked7） his head in.

"Bryan， I said I can't play with you now." Truman tried not to sound mean. His brother could burst into tears at the hint of an unkind word.

"I know where there's a beehive." Bryan smiled.

"Where？" Truman sat up.

"In the wood pile by the garage."

The boys marched to the pile of firewood. Bending down， Bryan pointed out the hive deep inside the pile. Truman took off several top layers of the stacked wood and carefully removed the hive from its hole. "You got it！" Bryan shouted.

Back in his room， Truman sat at his desk， turning the fragile hive under a lamp. It smelled like old leaves. Each cell8） was a perfect hexagon9）. How did the bees fit the cells together so neatly？ And how did they make each cell six-sided？ Could they count？

"Boys， dinner's ready！" his mother called.

All through dinner， Truman struggled to keep cool. If his parents found out he was working on a science project， they would run around pulling out books and volunteering ideas. He wanted to beat Rachel without their help.endprint

As he carried his plate to the kitchen， his father called， "Truman—it's your night to do the dishes."

Truman's heart fluttered10） as he cleaned the plate. If he didn't think of something soon， his chance to beat Rachel would be lost ... maybe forever. The thought of it made his stomach hurt. As he turned around to put the butter into the refrigerator， his foot came down on something with a crunch11）.

"Truman！ You're destroying my city！" Lost in thought， Truman hadn't seen Bryan settle in behind him with a mess of paper tubes.

"Get your stupid tubes out of here， Bryan！ I'm trying to .nish the dishes！" Truman blurted.

Bryan began to cry. Loudly. He gathered an armful of dented12） tubes， threw them under the running faucet13）， and ran sobbing into the living room.

Truman sighed and gathered the dripping tubes in both hands. As he held them over the wastebasket， they suddenly reminded him of something. The beehive！ Looking closer， he noticed the tubes were arranged with one in the middle， surrounded by six others. Truman tore open the drawer near the sink， grabbed a handful of paper clips， and clipped the tubes together. As he suspected， the soggy14） center tube formed a hexagon， just like the cells of the hive. Just to be sure， he tried five and then seven surrounding tubes， but neither way fit. Six was the only number that worked.

"Bees don't count to six，" he said aloud. "They just build round tubes and stick the sides together. The cells have to be six-sided."

Truman ran to the living room and threw his arms around his brother. "Bryan， you did it！ I've got my angle！" he gushed15）. "And a real beehive. And now I can build a model beehive with your tubes！ I mean—if it's OK with you."

"Well ..." Bryan pulled away， still snif.ing.

"You can help me glue them，" Truman offered. Bryan smiled and began picking out his .nest tubes.

Rachel Pettingill didn't stand a chance.

蕾切爾佩廷吉尔。当杜鲁门拖着沉重的脚步从学校走回家时，他在心里一直默念着这个名字。在整个三年级以及二年级期间，蕾切尔佩廷吉尔的科学课成绩都是班里最高的。实际上，她每门课的得分都是最高的。

杜鲁门已经习惯了排在蕾切尔后面充当第二名。“但科学是我的强项。”他对着一个停车标志这样宣称。杜鲁门的父母都是科学家，所以他也会成为一名科学家。这就是事实。然后不知怎的，再过一周完成一项作业就要到暑假的时候，他和蕾切尔打成了平手，简直就是势均力敌。杜鲁门要想最终胜出，那他的最后一个报告就必须要出彩，就必须要更胜一筹。

这次课题的主题是蜂巢。杜鲁门的班级已经研究了三天的蜜蜂，所以他已经做好了准备。但是，正如他的老师劳伦斯太太之前所说的，要想得A+，他需要有一个“新的视角”。

杜鲁门推开前门，发现他四岁的弟弟布赖恩正坐在客厅的地毯上忙活着。地上到处都是纸巾筒。布赖恩一下子跳了起来。“杜鲁门，帮我造一座城吧！”

“我倒是想帮你，”杜鲁门耸耸肩，“但我得做一个关于蜂巢的报告，而且——”

“我能帮你吗？”布赖恩恳求道。

“我觉得不能，布赖恩。对不起。”endprint

杜鲁门回到自己的房间，瘫倒在床上，盯着天花板。蕾切尔的报告虽然会十分普通，但写得堪称完美无缺，而且还会配上一张她那令人惊叹的配图。杜鲁门必须想出一个绝妙的主意，但那是什么呢？

“杜鲁门？”布赖恩把头探进来。

“布赖恩，我说了现在不能跟你玩。”杜鲁门尽量让自己的话听起来不那么刻薄。哪怕有一个字眼让弟弟觉得不友好，他都会放声大哭。

“我知道哪儿有蜂巢。”布赖恩微笑着说。

“哪儿？”杜鲁门坐了起来。

“在车库旁边的木柴堆里。”

于是，两人便奔赴那个木柴堆。布赖恩弯下腰，指向了木柴堆深处的蜂巢。杜鲁门拿掉堆放在最上面的几层木头，小心翼翼地把蜂巢从它的洞里移出来。“你拿到啦！”布赖恩喊道。

返回自己的房间后，杜鲁门坐在书桌前，在灯下翻转轻脆的蜂巢观察。这东西闻起来就像是枯烂的树叶。每个巢室都是一个完美的六边形。蜜蜂是怎樣把这些巢室如此整齐地排列在一起的？它们是怎样使每个巢室都有六个边的？难道它们会数数吗？

“小家伙们，晚饭好喽！”妈妈喊道。

整个晚饭期间，杜鲁门竭力保持镇静。如果他的父母发现他正在研究一个科学课题，他们就会忙活起来，不是翻出各种书籍，就是主动提出各种意见。他想在没有他们帮助的情况下打败蕾切尔。

他端着自己盘子往厨房送时，爸爸喊道：“杜鲁门，今天晚上该你洗碗了。”

杜鲁门一边清洗着盘子，一边心怦怦直跳。如果他不能尽快想出主意的话，他将失去打败蕾切尔的机会……也许永远都没有机会了。光是想到这个就让他的胃难受。就在他转身要把黄油放进冰箱时，他的脚嘎吱一声踩在了某个东西上。

“杜鲁门！你把我的城毁了！”杜鲁门刚刚想得太出神，都没有看到布赖恩拿着一堆纸筒在他身后安顿下来。

“把你这些破纸筒从这里拿走，布赖恩！我好不容易要洗完了！”杜鲁门脱口而出。

布赖恩哇哇大哭起来。他拢起一堆被压扁的纸筒，把它们扔到了哗哗流水的水龙头下，然后抽泣着跑进了客厅。

杜鲁门叹了口气，双手捞起那些滴水的纸筒。就在他把这些纸筒拿到废纸篓上方打算撒手扔掉时，突然之间，它们让他想起了某个东西。那个蜂巢！仔细一看，他注意到了那些纸筒的排列：有一个纸筒在中间，被另外六个纸筒包围着。杜鲁门拉开水槽附近的抽屉，抓了一把回形针，将那些纸筒夹在了一起。正如他所猜测的，中间浸了水的纸筒形成了一个六边形，就像蜂巢的巢室一样。为了确信他的猜测，他尝试了在中间纸筒周围放上五个或七个纸筒，但都不合适。六个是唯一奏效的数字。

“蜜蜂不会数到六，”他大声说，“它们只是建造圆形的蜂筒，然后把各个面粘在一起。这样一来巢室就必须得是六面体。”

杜鲁门跑到客厅，一把搂住了弟弟。“布赖恩，你做到啦！我找到我的角度了！”他滔滔不绝地说，“还有一个真正的蜂巢。现在我可以用你的纸筒建造一个蜂巢模型啦！我的意思是——如果你同意的话。”

“嗯……”布赖恩挣脱身子，还在抽鼻子。

“你可以帮我把它们粘到一起。”杜鲁门提议道。布赖恩笑了，开始挑选他最好的纸筒。

蕾切尔佩廷吉尔没有取胜的机会了！

1. trudge [tr.d.] vi. 步履艰难地走，费力地走

2. tie [ta.] v. 打成平局，不分胜负

3. even [.i.vn] adj. 均等的；输赢机会相等的

4. on top： 成功；领先

5. beehive [.bi.ha.v] n. 蜂巢

6. sprawl [spr..l] vi. （懒散地）摊开四肢坐（或躺）

7. poke [p..k] vt. 使……伸（或探）出来

8. cell [sel] n. （蜂房的）巢室

9. hexagon [.heks.ɡ.n] n. 六边形，六角形

10. .utter [.fl.t.（r）] vi. （心）怦怦乱跳

11. crunch [kr.nt.] n. 嘎吱作响

12. dent [dent] vt. 使产生凹痕，使凹陷

13. faucet [.f..s.t] n. （水）龙头，阀门

14. soggy [.s.ɡi] adj. 湿透的

15. gush [ɡ..] vt. 夸张地表达，感情充沛地说endprint