Saving Money Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Chapter 1: Mega-Sized Dreams

  Chapter 2: Excuse Yourself

  Chapter 3: My First Million

  Chapter 4: Zillionaire?

  Chapter 5: Greater Good

  Chapter 6: B.A.D.R. Institute

  Chapter 7: The Troodon Solution

  Chapter 8: The Daily Grind

  Chapter 9: A Dino-Mite Plan!

  Chapter 10: Food for Thought

  About the Author

  Glossary

  Million-Dollar Questions

  Copyright

  Back Cover

  CHAPTER 1

  Mega-Sized Dreams

  My name’s Benjamin Franklin, but most people call me Benji. As you probably guessed, my parents named me after one of the most creative minds in history. Talk about pressure!

  Right from the get-go, people had mega-sized dreams for me. Not to brag, but I didn’t disappoint. At six months old, I learned sign language. When I was three, I taught myself how to play the guitar—acoustic, of course. At five, I was able to read in six different languages, including Dolphin (EE-EEEK!).

  My mom thinks I’m brilliant, but I’m not so sure. Do true geniuses crave candy 24 hours a day?

  A real genius, Albert Einstein, once said: “It’s not that I’m so smart, it’s just that I stay with problems longer.” I feel the same way. It’s not that I’m supersmart. I’m just really, REALLY curious!

  Luckily, my dad and I share a ginormous workshop behind my house. It’s a great place to create (...or break!) all kinds of stuff.

  My grandpa built the workshop like a hundred years ago. Loads of his old cars, dusty boats, rusty motors, and other odd items still fill the rotting shed. If it flew, rolled, or floated, there’s a good chance it’s hiding in there somewhere.

  My dad grew up tinkering with stuff, too. In fact, he’s so good at building things that last year he created a satellite from a car radio, a spare tire, an aquarium, and the rear seat of a minivan.

  A few weeks ago, we launched the satellite into space from our backyard. It. Was. AWESOME!

  Kids at school didn’t believe me when I told them about the satellite...until I showed them the FBI footage. (Don’t ask!)

  One day, while I downloaded data from the satellite, my dad rolled up on his rusty old motorcycle. “Your piano lesson starts in ten minutes,” he said, taking off his helmet.

  “But I’m tracking asteroids,” I replied. “There’s dozens of them whizzing by today!”

  Dad walked over and peeked at the data. “How’s the satellite looking?” he asked, adjusting his glasses.

  “It’ll be fine,” I assured him. “It doesn’t seem like any of the ’roids will take it out.”

  “That’s good news,” he said, opening the workshop door. “Because I have work to do!”

  After reading a news article about a fisherman who fell overboard, Dad towed an old boat into our workshop. Then he started designing a safety system for fishing boats. His idea was to cover each crewmember’s jacket, pants, and boots with thousands of tiny magnets and rig the fishing boat with a superpowered magnet. If a fisherman fell in the water, the magnet could pull him back to the boat safely.

  “How’s the suit coming?” I asked.

  “I’m ready for a test, Benji,” he said, putting on one of the magnetic jackets. “Climb into the boat with me, will you? Let’s see if this gizmo is strong enough to pull me back in!”

  “Are you sure it’s safe to test?” I asked.

  “Nope! But there’s only one way to find out.” Dad leaped off the boat and onto the shed floor below. “Man overboard!” he cried out.

  I flipped the safety switch. Instead of being pulled toward the ship, he shot away from it as if he’d been fired out of a cannon. WHAM!! He blasted through the old shed like a human wrecking ball.

  I quickly jumped off the boat and ran up to the hole in the wall.

  “Are you all right, Dad?” I asked, worried.

  “Yep! Guess I had the magnets reversed,” he said. “When you flipped the switch, they repelled instead of attracted me. If the attraction is that strong, I think this idea just might work, son.”

  “Benji! Your piano teacher is here!” I heard Mom shout from the house.

  “Do I have to go, Dad?” I asked.

  “You know the drill, kiddo. Piano is great for the mind,” he said. “It helps develop your synapses.”

  “What if my synapses don’t want developing?”

  “As much as I’d like for you to stay here and give me a hand, you’ve got to go,” he replied.

  “But...what if I had a terrible headache?” I asked, holding my forehead.

  “You’d have to go straight to bed and maybe the doctor,” he said.

  “But...what if—” I began.

  “Benji, what if you stopped trying to excuse yourself?” he said. “Go tickle those ivories.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Excuse Yourself

  Weeks earlier, my tech teacher, Mrs. Heart, had assigned a class project. Each student in the class had to create a computer app that people would want to buy.

  When Dad said, “What if you stopped trying to excuse yourself?,” an idea hit me like an asteroid. Kids all over the world try getting out of BORING stuff every day. They make up endless excuses to avoid the chores they don’t want to do.

  What if I created an app to help kids get out of these tasks? I wondered. Like piano lessons!

  I even thought of an app name...Excuse Yourself!

  I could hardly concentrate during my piano lesson. I kept thinking about my grandfather. He used to say that his greatest ideas always came to him in a flash.

  “Brilliance strikes like lightning!” he’d tell me. “One minute it’s not there, and the next—BOOM!—an idea flashes across the sky. You can’t miss it.”

  The Excuse Yourself computer app was a brilliant idea. I knew that much instantly.

  After a few days, the app worked just the way I wanted it. I’d taught myself how to write computer code when I was younger, and the skill really came in handy. Mrs. Heart had taught us a few useful tricks in class to help create an app, but most of the cooler features I had figured out on my own.

  The day the app was due, I realized most of the kids in my class had created games. As my time to present neared, I could hardly contain my excitement. A few kids presented before me, and then Mrs. Heart called me to the front of the class.

  I stood in front of the large digital board. “How many of you have made up an excuse to get yourself out of trouble?” I asked.

  Every hand went up. Perfect! I thought.

  “Of course you have,” I continued. “We all make excuses, and even lie from time to time. But what if I told you there was an app that helps you get out of trouble? Raise your hand if you’d use it.”

  Again, every hand went up.

  This time though, when the hands went back down, one person’s remained up—Cindy Meyers’s.

  Cindy never raised her hand unless she wanted to complain about something. “Do you want to say something, Cindy?” I asked, cautiously.

  “If you’re talking about an excuse app, Benji, save your breath,” she said. “It’s been done.” She pointed to another app on her cellphone.

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “Plenty of excuse apps already exist, but none like the one I’ve created!”

  I tapped the digital board, and my computer app launched. The words “Excuse Yourself” appeared on the screen’s homepage.

  “Clever name, Benji!” the teache
r exclaimed.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Heart,” I said. “Like it’s name, the Excuse Yourself app is anything but ordinary. If you need an excuse, simply type your question into the powerful search engine.” I scrolled through the app’s menu bar, demonstrating for the class.

  “Like other apps, Excuse Yourself gives you dozens of possible excuses,” I explained. “But, unlike the competition, my computer app helps you determine the likelihood the excuse will work! Someone give me an example of something you needed an excuse for today.”

  A kid named Mark raised his hand. “I got in trouble last period,” he said. “I didn’t read the book Mr. Frayne assigned.”

  “Fantastic!” I said. Then I typed: Didn’t read the book I was supposed to read for class.

  The app immediately created a list of excuses:

  EXCUSE

  ODDS OF WORKING

  Lost it.

  30%

  Family emergency.

  85%

  Book made me cry.

  80%

  Read the book; couldn't understand it.

  67%

  Received eye drops at doctor; can't see.

  98%

  Headache/stomachache/ache of any kind.

  25%

  More options...

  The class seemed interested.

  “That’s not all,” I continued. “Once I’ve made my selection, the app will advise me of the possible challenges I may encounter if I decide to use this excuse. Which one do you want to use, Mark?”

  “The eye drops,” he replied. “That’s a new one.”

  I clicked on the fifth option: Received eye drops at doctor; can’t see.

  The app generated a list of advice for the user:

  May need a note.

  School nurse may call or e-mail home to confirm.

  Teacher may ask, “What’s wrong?” Say you don’t know the name of the condition; a kid wouldn’t remember something like that.

  Rub your eyes, but don’t overdo it.

  “That’s awesome!” Mark said.

  “Hold on. The app goes one step further, ” I said. “Most kids use the same excuse over and over. I’ve added a feature that tracks when you’ve used excuses and who you’ve used them on.” Again, I demonstrated the feature on screen.

  “Also, the app keeps a record of all your excuse activity,” I explained. “If someone asks you about an excuse you gave a few weeks back, there’s no need to remember the details. Simply click your excuse history, and it’s all there for you.”

  You could’ve heard a pin drop in the classroom. The other students’ minds were spinning with possibilities. My teacher chewed her bottom lip and tried to force a smile.

  A few kids had their cell phones out. They were hiding them under the desks, so Mrs. Heart wouldn’t notice. I thought it was pretty rude that they were playing on their phones, and I hadn’t even finished my presentation!

  Mrs. Heart interrupted. “I just want to be clear, Benji. Are you encouraging kids to lie?”

  “No, ma’am!” I exclaimed. “Honesty is the best policy, of course. I’m saying that, like it or not, we all tell fibs from time to time. My Excuse Yourself app helps once someone has already made the decision to make an excuse.”

  “That stills sounds a lot like lying,” she said.

  “Kids already do a lot of lying on their own,” I argued. “And that brings me to one final feature, which I’m very proud of.”

  I felt like a salesman on a TV infomercial. I was really selling it! “Excuse Yourself provides users with graphs, data, and charts to help them understand how often they make excuses,” I explained. “Kids might actually learn about their behavior and maybe even change.” Mrs. Heart had to like that part, even though she was unsure about the app.

  “Very imaginative,” said Mrs. Heart. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t encouraging lying in order to get out of responsibility.”

  “It’s AWESOME, Franklin!” Mark said again.

  “Yes, Mark,” Mrs. Heart said. “It is awesome, but it still concerns me a bit. You kids shouldn’t actually use the Excuse Yourself app. It’s simply a fun idea.”

  “Can I buy it?” asked Mark, ignoring her.

  “It’s available online,” I replied. “But, like Mrs. Heart said, the app’s not really for everyday use. It’s more of a goof than anything else.”

  $$$

  That night, I helped Dad in the workshop with the deep-sea safety gear. The magnets were working much better. When he flipped the switch, the magnets pulled me across the floor. The invention wasn’t ready to pull a grown man out of the ocean, but it was getting closer.

  After that, we tracked some debris approaching our satellite, and then we headed to pick Mom up from the food pantry where she volunteers.

  When we arrived, she was organizing cans of food and placing them on shelves.

  “I’m about ready to go,” she said. “I just want to drop a care package off to a family on the way.”

  “No problem,” Dad said.

  She grabbed me by the hand. “Come with me, Benjamin. You can help carry a few more things.”

  Mom has volunteered at the food pantry so long that she practically runs the place. She handed me an empty bag and walked toward the fridges.

  “Grab two containers of milk and some butter,” she said to me. “I’ll meet you back at the front.”

  I opened the large, silver refrigerator doors and walked inside. It was FREEZING! I saw some chicken, eggs, and butter, but no milk. I grabbed the items and headed back to the front to meet Mom.

  “You’re out of milk,” I told her.

  “Again?” she said with a sigh. “I can’t seem to keep it on the shelves. We’ll have to stop on the way and pick some up.”

  “We’d better go,” Dad said. “It looks like rain.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t bring that ridiculous motorcycle,” Mom groaned.

  “I didn’t bring that ridiculous motorcycle,” Dad said, smirking. He turned to me and whispered, “It’s not ridiculous.”

  “Uh-huh,” Mom said. “Then I’m driving. Benji, you can sit in the sidecar with your father.”

  “Not AGAIN!” Dad cried.

  Dad got funny looks from people when he drove the motorcycle. But when Mom was driving with Dad and me in the sidecar...people died laughing!

  $$$

  We stopped to buy milk and then dropped the supplies off for a family. I was surprised that there were two kids playing out in front of the house when we pulled up. I’d been to the pantry with Mom many times, but I’d never seen the families she helped in person. The mother hugged my mom. It was clear that Mom had been there many times before. She introduced us to the woman and her kids.

  “Your mother is one of the most generous people I’ve ever known,” said the woman.

  “I just like to help,” said Mom.

  “You’re an amazing person,” the woman added.

  “You guys take care of yourselves,” Mom told them. “Remember, let me know if you need anything at all.”

  The woman teared up as we left. I never knew how much Mom’s work helped people.

  Later that night, I was setting the table for dinner. “How would those people have fed their kids if you didn’t bring them all that stuff?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure, Benji,” she replied.

  “How come you guys were out of milk?” I asked.

  “We operate on donations, so we only have what people give us,” Mom explained. “Today, there wasn’t enough milk, so I decided to buy it.”

  “How often do you buy the stuff yourself?”

  “More often than you’d think,” she said. “We get a bunch of food around the holidays, but the rest of the year is pretty tough. Working on donations alone just isn’t sustainable. We’re always running out of things an
d people go hungry.”

  “Isn’t there a better way to help people that need food?” I said.

  “When you figure it out,” she said. “I’m all ears.”

  CHAPTER 3

  My First Million

  The next morning was Saturday. I logged into the bank account I’d created for my app. I figured a few kids in my class might have bought it. Maybe I’d have enough money to buy some candy (YUM!).

  I clicked my balance and couldn’t believe my eyes! When I left for school Friday, my account was at $1.39 because I’d bought the app myself to make sure it worked. The app sold for $1.99 online. Every time someone bought it, $1.39 went straight to my new bank account.

  I was expecting ten dollars or so, but the balance was...$344,052!

  CHA-CHING!!

  I got out my calculator and divided the balance by $1.39. If my math was correct (and why wouldn’t it be!), the app had been downloaded nearly 250,000 times. Overnight!

  This must be a mistake, I thought. I refreshed the page, expecting the number to return to something like ten cents. But instead...

  $353,060!

  CHA-CHING!!

  Could that many people have downloaded the app in only a few seconds? I clicked it a third time, and the number went up again!

  By the time I called my parents into my room, the account was even higher. The numbers were changing so rapidly that it reminded me of numbers on the gas pump when Dad fills the tank. They were spinning too fast to even make out the digits.

  “You didn’t hack into a bank or anything, did you?” Dad asked, warily.

  “Of course he didn’t hack into a bank. Don’t be ridiculous,” Mom said. “You didn’t, did you?”

  “No!”

  “The Federal Reserve?” Dad asked.

  “Remember that computer app I created for tech class?” I asked.

  “The last time you mentioned it, you were stuck for ideas,” Dad replied.