Race the Sun Page #4

I'm so outta here.

I thought you couldn't get your

trust fund unless you graduated.

So? When my real dad finds out

what kind of sh*t I put up with...

believe me, he'll give it to me.

He's my son. I know what he can do

and what he can't.

But he better start working for

a living, 'cause he's no Einstein!

What a dork.

So what do you say, Cin?

You in or out here?

She's out. Now, get back in here

and finish eating! Both of you!

I'm in.

All right, we need materials.

- No!

- It's too big!

A better place to work.

A new set of blueprints.

The sun shines

on the solar panels...

which then trickles its way

down to the batteries...

which then pushes its way

to the control box...

through to the motor...

- Yes!

- All right, Braz!

Down to the wheels, which turn,

which make the car go.

Simple, right?

- I don't know.

- It sucks.

- What's wrong with it, Braz?

- Nobody could build this thing.

- You're dreaming here, Daniel.

- You come up with something, then!

Come on, you guys.

It's not the design here.

We put it together wrong?

Four weeks left.

We're never gonna make it.

Ready for some good news?

This is a bill of lading...

and this is a check from

the U.S. Department of Energy.

Our solar panels are on their way.

Our solar panels are on the way!

Let's all have one big hug, eh?

What? Okay, so it's not perfect.

But it's a start.

- Come on, Gilbert.

- Guys!

Listen, if you're gonna flunk

anybody, flunk me.

I'm the one who blew it.

Okay, Mr. Machi,

I'm gonna make this brief.

I got $10,000 worth of solar panels

on their way here, and no car...

and exactly four weeks to resolve

it, and I need your expertise.

Sounds great. No, thanks.

I'm going to handle all

the paperwork, all the details.

All I need you to do... all they

need you to do is help them.

You didn't hear me, Miss Beecher.

I'm not interested in your project.

You are a teacher here, aren't you?

Come here.

Look around.

You see all this?

Every fall, they drag this crap in,

saying how they'll fix it up...

and every summer, I call the scrap

yard and have it hauled away.

They're quitters, that's all.

They don't finish anything, ever.

Which is what you're finding out

and why I didn't get involved.

They're kids. They need help.

They need our help.

They're lolos, lady.

And what they don't need

is another lesson in failing.

That's all they know about and

all they expect from themselves.

And you know what that gets them?

Five bucks an hour...

cleaning up after tourists.

Look...

you seem like a nice lady.

I'm sure you mean well.

But you're setting them up for

disappointment, and I won't help.

Well, looks like we got

a little problem here again, huh?

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