A/N For those of you who aren't on FanFiction.net and therefore don't know this, I have hidden references to other PBS Kids shows (as well as other books/movies/fandoms/etc.) throughout all 43 chapters of this fanfic. On the other site I'm holding a Contest to see who can find the most; so if you find a reference, awesome, just please don't share it in the public comments because I want participants to figure it out for themselves. (Plus, if you decide to participate as well, it hurts your chances of winning.) Thanks for your understanding, and be sure to keep your eyes peeled. Some references are less obvious than others!

And now for another one of these...

DISCLAIMER: Yes, I do realize that Odd Squad deliberately doesn't explain certain things about the show in order to keep the whole "equality" thing going. No, I am not completely disregarding this by offering my own explanations as to some of the characters' backstories. I totally respect the TV writers for not wanting to go into things like who the characters' families are; the problem is my story doesn't really work if I don't invent these kinds of backstories. Plus, it's only a fanfic. So don't judge me. :) I promise I'll still be keeping certain things vague.

The Brainstormer

"Opraaaaah!"

Eight-year-old Oprah, upstairs in her tiny attic bedroom, groaned. Picking up her paintbrush, she resumed her work and pretended not to hear.

"Oprah, darling! There's a telegram for you!"

"Leave me alone, Auntie," she muttered under her breath.

"It's from the Odd Squad!"

Oh, no. Oprah dropped her paintbrush, splattering red paint all over her sign. A swear escaped her lips.

"Oprah, I won't tolerate you hiding in your bedroom, dear!" Auntie May called, a subtle hint of frustration evident under all the superficial sweetness. "Come downstairs right this instant!"

Oprah sighed. It was no use. If she ignored her for any longer, Auntie would eventually come upstairs herself and discover the grand scheme. Nothing was worth losing a year's worth of hard work and imagination to her meddling aunt. "Coming, Auntie!" Oprah answered, putting away the paintbrush and standing up to brush off her old calico dress. Carefully she climbed through the trapdoor in the corner and down the ladder, careful to avoid splinters since she hated wearing her black boots and stockings indoors (much to Auntie's dismay).

Her feet had barely touched the floor below when there was Auntie May towering over her, waving the abominable telegram envelope in her plump hand. A triumphant grin was on her face. "I just knew you'd make it in, darling! Would you like to open your acceptance letter now, or wait until your uncle and cousins come back from town?"

Well, that was a no-brainer. Uncle Chester only pretended to care about her accomplishments, and she wasn't in the mood for the inevitable taunts from Lunette and Molly. "I should rather open it now, Auntie. The sooner the better."

"Oh, alright. Here it is, dear." Auntie May looked on with gushing approval as Oprah slid her finger under the tab and tore the envelope open. "I always said you were a smart girl, you know. And you may have fought against me on taking the exams, but is it not such a great honor to be accepted into the Odd Squad Academy —"

"I failed the exam."

Auntie May stopped. "I'm sorry?"

Oprah held up the telegram with a smug smile. "I failed the exam," she repeated. "The telegram expresses their sincere regret that I was not qualified enough to be accepted into the Odd Squad Academy. Besides, I should have gotten a letter by post if I were accepted —"

"Let me see that!" Auntie May all but snatched the telegram out of Oprah's hands to read it for herself. Her grey eyes widened as they skimmed over the choppy lines of text. "There must be some mistake. This simply cannot be right!"

"It doesn't matter," Oprah countered. "I've told you before, Auntie. I do not want to join the Odd Squad. I have other plans for myself."

Auntie May sniffed. "Other plans?" she said coldly. "Don't be ridiculous, child, you're only eight years old. You cannot even put your hair up properly yet."

"I'm a gifted child. You said so just now."

"And what might these 'plans' involve?"

Oprah puffed out her chest, brushed aside her as-yet unbraided hair, and held her chin high. "I'm going to be an entrepreneur."

Auntie May burst out laughing. "An entrepreneur! What a ridiculous notion! You might as well forget the idea immediately, then. Gifted girls like you belong on the Odd Squad, not out on the streets soliciting rubbish. No matter. I'll schedule you for the next exam right away..."

With that, Auntie May bustled away into the kitchen. Moments later she called over her shoulder, "And you can march right back up to your room without any supper for your insolence, young lady. While I am raising you under my roof, you must learn to be obedient. Need I remind you of your miserable origins?"

"No, Auntie," Oprah answered with thinly veiled sarcasm. Without another word she trudged up the ladder steps and shut the trapdoor. If there was one thing Auntie May Casser liked to talk about besides that stupid Odd Squad, it was how she and Uncle Chester had heroically taken her into their family. Oprah had been told she was found six years ago near Lake Erie from somewhere across the border, presumably as a runaway from the American South. How she ended up there all by herself with no memory of anything but her name was anyone's guess, but the Casser family (or at least Auntie May) was quick to take her in and bring her up "as a true Canadian lady." Which seemed to mean getting her into the Odd Squad as soon as possible. It had been Molly's idea originally — she was the right age, her name started with an O, and she was smart enough to make it into the Academy — and Auntie May had latched onto it ever since. Contrary to her family's belief, leaving home wasn't what bothered Oprah about the idea. Auntie May had never shown her any real affection; Uncle Chester had never shown her much of anything at all; and Lunette and Molly, ages eighteen and thirteen respectively, were constantly treating her as "too young" to know or do anything. No, what bothered her was Odd Squad itself. The agents were always prancing about proudly, regaling their tales of fighting oddness and bragging about all the privileges they got as kids working for the government. Especially that one blonde girl with the wires in her mouth, she was the worst. Honest hard work was more in Oprah's interests, which was why she had deliberately sabotaged the exam last month.

Once alone in her room, Oprah headed straight for her wooden chest of clothes. Moving aside some stockings to expose the old milkcan in the corner, she unscrewed the lid and ladled out a cup of fruit juice for herself. Never mind bed without any supper. Her secret juice stash from the Shmumbers would get her through the evening just fine. Plus, she had work to do.

By the time the sun set, Oprah's dress, hands, and even the bedroom floor were all covered in a rainbow of paint. But the end result was worth the mess. She now had a rectangular sign with apples, bananas, pears, oranges, cherries, and all sorts of fruit displayed on it. With the booth already built and sitting in Mr. Shmumber's warehouse, and his daughter's agreement to be hired as an assistant, Oprah's dream of running a fruit stand was so close to becoming a reality, she could almost taste it.

"All I need now is the fruit," she said with a grin.