Arya’s assignment was to build a bridge from twenty index cards and thirty inches of tape.
The bridge had to span two dictionaries and hold one apple for ten seconds.
“Easy,” Arya said.
She placed one dictionary beside the other and laid three cards across them.
“Done.”
Mama read the instructions again. “How far apart must the dictionaries be?”
Arya looked at the paper.
“Twelve inches.”
“How far apart are they?”
Arya measured.
“One and a half.”
“Then you have built a very successful sidewalk.”
Arya moved the dictionaries apart. The cards dropped between them.
Her second bridge used all twenty cards and nearly all the tape. It had towers, railings, and a sign that said NO TRUCKS. It looked excellent from the side.
The apple went through the middle before Mama began counting.
Jiya picked it up.
“Bridge made applesauce.”
“It did not.”
“Beginning applesauce.”
Arya pulled the bridge apart. Tape stuck to her fingers, the table, and one of Jiya’s pigtails.
“I can’t do this.”
Mama sat across from her. “Do you want me to build it, or do you want me to sit here while you build the next one?”
“Those are not the only choices.”
“What is the third?”
“You build it while I sit here.”
Mama smiled. “That is the first choice wearing your name tag.”
Arya rested her forehead on the table.
“Sit here,” she said.
Mama made tea. She did not touch the cards.
Arya folded one card into a long tent. It held the apple when the dictionaries were two inches apart. At four inches, it bent. At six, it flattened.
She folded another card beside it.
“Triangles,” she said.
“What about them?” Mama asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
Jiya drove a toy bus over the two folded cards. The bus reached the other dictionary.
“My passengers survived.”
“They weren’t in danger.”
Jiya turned the bus around. “Now they are.”
At eight inches, Arya’s bridge held a clementine. At ten, it held the clementine and Jiya’s plastic goat. At twelve, it leaned to the left and threw both into the valley.
Arya stared at the fallen goat.
“I need help.”
“What kind?” Mama asked.
Arya almost said all of it. Instead, she pointed to the ruler.
“Can you hold that still?”
Mama held the ruler.
Arya rebuilt the left side with three folded cards instead of two. Then she copied it on the right. The bridge looked less like the Golden Gate and more like a row of tiny roofs.
It held the apple for seven seconds.
On eight, the center sagged.
On nine, the apple rolled into Mama’s tea towel.
Arya laughed before she could stop herself.
“That one failed properly.”
“What does that mean?” Mama asked.
“It told me where.”
She slid one last folded card beneath the center.
The next morning, the bridge held the apple for ten seconds in class. Arya counted too quickly, so her teacher made her start again. It held for eleven.
That afternoon, Jiya found the bridge between the dictionaries on the dining table. She drove her bus across it and stopped halfway.
“Traffic,” she explained.
Arya moved the dictionaries one finger farther apart.
The bridge bowed in the middle.
This time, she smiled before it fell.