What We Saw(4)

He answered me with wide blue eyes and awe in his voice.

There’s only one side. The waves go on forever.





UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE


HarperCollins Publishers

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three


IOWA WAS ONCE an ocean.

Sounds crazy, I know, but it’s true. Three hundred and seventy-five million years ago, there were no cornfields. Only a large, shallow sea filled with trilobites and mud worms and prehistoric fish, all splashing around in the soup, trying to turn their fins into legs—probably so they could walk to California before the ice age hit.

After surviving this winter, I understand that urge. Sometimes we have snow in March, but today the sun is warm on my face, and I’m glad I’m walking over to Ben’s instead of driving. It’ll take twenty minutes, and after this year’s deep freeze, the last week of upper sixties has felt like a heat wave. It’s supposed to be seventy-one degrees this afternoon—practically bikini weather. I want to soak up every ray I can. Turning the corner at the end of our block, I stare up the gentle slope of Oaklawn Avenue and try to imagine my landlocked farm town as an ancient tropical paradise.

Mr. Johnston explained all of this last fall, the very first week of geology. Rachel’s hand flew up as soon as he said the words Devonian Era. I knew what was coming before she opened her mouth. She’s my best friend, but a true forward: aggressive on the field and off. The only things Rachel loves more than scoring are the fight to get the ball, and her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

“Isn’t it true that this is all just a theory, Mr. Johnston?”

“Just a theory?”

“This whole three hundred and seventy-five million years ago thing. I mean, no one was around to see that. There’s no proof.”

Mr. Johnston turned thirty on the first day of school. I always forget how crystal clear his green eyes are until he pulls off his funky horn-rimmed glasses, which he did right then.

“Is that the point of science?” he asked Rachel. “Proof?”

“Well, yeah,” she said. “Isn’t that why we observe stuff? To prove theories are right or wrong? That’s why all this evolution stuff is just a theory. Because you can’t observe when the world began, so you can’t prove it.”

“There’s no such thing as a ‘proof’ in science,” Mr. Johnston said, and put his glasses back on. “You can have a proof in math or in logic, but not in science. Anybody tell me why?”

Lindsey Chen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and raised her hand. She’s a defender on the field, always a surprise to the opposing team. They write her off as a “little Asian girl” and are unprepared for her to be both fleet and fierce.

“Yes, Miss Chen?”

“Math and logic are closed systems. Like in algebra, there’s only one possible answer to a problem. You solve for x.”

Mr. Johnston nodded. “Exactly. There’s no such thing as ‘proving’ something true or false with science. It all comes down to what we mean when we use that word ‘theory.’”

He asked who could tell him the difference between a scientific theory and what most people mean when they say theory. Mr. Johnston pointed toward the back, and I swiveled around in surprise when I heard Ben’s voice.

“I have a theory that the tacos in the cafeteria are made out of stray cats.”


Mr. Johnston laughed along with the rest of us. “Yes! But is that a scientific theory, Mr. Cody?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

Ben shrugged. “I don’t have any observations to back it up. Just a hunch. Based on taste.”

Mr. Johnston kept driving toward his point over the laughter. “And what do we call a ‘hunch’ in science? Anyone?” He pointed at me. “Kate?”

“A hypothesis?”

“Bingo! And how is an unproven hypothesis different from a scientific theory?”

Lindsey spoke up again. “A scientific theory is the best explanation for something based on all the evidence we have so far. You can use it to make predictions.”

“Very good.” Mr. Johnston smiled, mission accomplished. “Remember that words have specific meanings depending on context. When we say that evolution is a ‘scientific theory’ we mean it’s the most likely explanation—the one strongly supported by all of our observations of the natural world.”

Rachel was waving her hand like a castaway in choppy water. “Yes, Rachel?”

“But nobody was here three hundred and seventy-five million years ago to observe anything. So, how can we say that Iowa used to be an ocean if no one saw that?”

“We observe the evidence.” Mr. Johnston smiled. “Even if you don’t witness an event firsthand, there’s always plenty of evidence to be found.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Like what?”

Mr. Johnston smiled. Then he passed around eighteen plastic buckets, assigned partners at random, and sent us out to look for coral fossils in a ditch behind the school—roughly twelve hundred miles from the nearest ocean.

I can hear the basketball pinging on Ben’s driveway from half a block away. Pausing at the corner of the front hedge, I watch him shoot free throws. He is sweaty and shirtless.