Izzy Newton and the S.M.A.R.T. Squad Read online

  As Izzy changed her clothes, she stared at a snapshot of Marie and herself that was taped to her bulletin board. Izzy thought she looked pretty much the same: wiry, with big eyes that matched her dark brown skin, a cloud of curly black hair, and a shy smile. She was shorter than Marie, who smiled at the camera with confidence. They were holding between them their third-grade science fair project, which was a balsa-wood airplane powered by rubber bands and balloons. Pinned to their shirts were the first-place ribbons they’d won. Izzy still had her ribbon. It was taped next to the photo, looking a little faded now in the narrow beam of sunlight that came in through her window.

  Izzy’s flute always helped her concentrate, so she took it out and began to play. The soft silvery notes usually took her mind off her troubles—but not this time.

  After a while, Granddad poked his head in the door. “Your flute sounds worried,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “Too much,” said Izzy. “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “Start where you are,” said Granddad. “That’s usually best.” He sat at Izzy’s desk and looked at her intently. He was focused and ready to listen.

  “Okay, then,” said Izzy. “Tomorrow is the first day of middle school, and I’m really worried.”

  “That seems normal to me,” said Granddad.

  Izzy laughed. Somehow, Granddad telling her it was okay to worry made her feel better—and oddly enough, less worried.

  “Be specific,” said Granddad. Even though she was only 11 years old and not turning 12 until January, Granddad always spoke to Izzy in a very grown-up way, scientist to scientist. Izzy loved it. “What precisely are you worried about?” asked Granddad.

  “Well, for starters, I’m worried that I’ll be sort of invisible because I’m so little and quiet,” said Izzy.

  Granddad tilted his head. “You aren’t quiet all the time,” he said. “You talk up a storm with your friends, and I’ve heard you be as loud as your brothers, The Noise Boys. Listen to them in the kitchen now. They’re making pizza, a mess, and a racket.”

  Granddad was right. Her brothers were drumming a reggae rhythm on the cooking pots and crashing lids together like cymbals.

  “I mean I’m quiet with people I don’t know well,” said Izzy. “I’m nervous about meeting all the new people tomorrow.”

  “Mm-hmm,” said Granddad. “With strangers you are quiet—on the outside, but your brain is whirring on the inside all the time. And just because you’re quiet doesn’t mean you have nothing to say. Quiet, introspective people have lots to contribute. You know that.”

  Izzy nodded.

  “And I know you, Izzy,” Granddad went on. “You feel just as passionately and you get just as excited as anybody; you just keep it inside and use it as energy, like an internal combustion engine, instead of exploding like fireworks. And you’re not always shy, either. If there’s something you’re determined about, you speak up. Remember the decision about Wickins?”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Izzy, smiling. Her parents had been completely against getting a cat, but Izzy had set forth her arguments with such conviction that they had finally given in. Izzy picked Wickins up now and held him close so she could feel him purring.

  “Anything else?” asked Granddad patiently.

  Izzy sighed. “Marie is back from Paris. Allie, Charlie, and I haven’t heard from her in a long time, but back when she did send us some pictures, she looked really different—super grown-up. Allie and Charlie think she’s gotten so sophisticated and cool that she won’t want to be our friend anymore. I don’t want to believe that, but honestly I don’t know what to expect.”

  “Now you’re entering the realm of pure speculation,” said Granddad. “You have no solid evidence and no firm facts. Valid conclusions can’t be drawn from insufficient data.”

  “Well, yes,” said Izzy, “but if Marie does feel the way Allie and Charlie thinks she feels, then maybe she won’t want to be our friend. We won’t know how to act, and—”

  Granddad held up his hands. “Stop,” he said. “Listen, Izzy. All scientific theory follows a rule called Occam’s razor. It’s a logical principle that states that you should not make more assumptions than the minimum needed. It means simplest is best. Don’t assume things are more complicated than they appear. You are breaking that rule now by making lots of baseless assumptions, which only leads to needless worry.” He stood up and hugged Izzy, saying, “So, meeting adjourned. Come on, Ms. Izzy. We better go to the kitchen and restore order before your brothers wreak more havoc. That we know is not a baseless assumption. It is a real possibility based on lots of past evidence and experience, right?”

  “Right!” said Izzy. She put Wickins down, packed her flute away, and went off to help Granddad and the boys make dinner. As she did, she thought, I’ll have to remember that Occam’s razor thing: Don’t make assumptions. Don’t make things more complicated than they need to be. Maybe Marie is still the same old Marie. Maybe middle school will be okay!

  The next morning, Wednesday, Izzy was so anxious about being late that she arrived at school much too early to expect to see Allie and Charlie. She pedaled her bike around the school grounds awhile to kill time. Atom Middle School was a scruffy two-story brick building that was long overdue for a renovation. Even from the outside, Izzy wondered how 900 sixth, seventh, and eighth graders could possibly fit inside. Plans had been drawn up to expand and modernize the school with up-to-date science labs, a library with all new computers, and state-of-the-art gyms. But funds hadn’t yet been allocated for the multimillion-dollar overhaul. Still, the more Izzy looked at it, the more she liked the old building. It was on a hill that sloped down to the playing fields. There were shops across the street and woods behind the building. From the parking lot, Izzy had a view of the lake. She really, really wished that she could rewind and have it be yesterday again, when she and Allie and Charlie were at the lake together. Her stomach was queasy, and even though it was a brisk, cool morning, her hands were sweaty on the bike handlebars.

  Just then she heard someone call out, “Izzy! Yoo-hoo!” Allie skidded up and stopped next to Izzy with a screech of brakes. “Hi!” she said.

  “Hi,” said Izzy. “How come you’re here so early?”

  “ ’Cause I knew that you’d be here way too early, so I came to keep you company,” said Allie.

  “Thanks.” Izzy grinned.

  “Plus, I’m excited,” said Allie. “I mean, middle school, right?” She took off her bike helmet and her gorgeous white-blond hair looked as wired as she sounded. It stuck up and out all over her head in exclamation points, catching the sunlight, looking bright, electric, and exuberant. “You look great, Izzy,” Allie said, and before Izzy could respond, Allie looked down and sighed, “I’m a walking disaster.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Izzy.

  “Well, look!” Allie made a sweeping motion with her hands from her shirt downward.

  She was wearing a bluish tie-dye shirt, blue jeggings, and mismatched blue socks that peeked out over her blue tennis shoes. “Bubbie decided that I’m old enough to do my own laundry,” Allie explained. “So I put my new blue jeggings in the wash with lots of my socks and T-shirts. The jeggings bled all over them and tinted them different shades of blue!”

  “Blue’s nice!” said Izzy.

  Allie sighed again. “Oh, well,” she said. “At least now all my clothes go together, so I have the greatest possible number of combinations of outfits.”

  “It’ll make getting dressed in the morning quicker,” added Izzy. “You won’t have to waste time deciding what color shirt to wear. They’re all—”

  “Blue!” Allie chimed in cheerfully. She looked around. “It seems like there are hundreds of kids arriving, more every minute. But I don’t see Char. I’m the one who’s usually late! Oh, well. She probably got distracted by an earthworm or something.”

  It was true that when Charlie was watching an animal or studying an unusual plant she became so absorbed that
she forgot about everything else.

  “No, I bet she’s here and we just can’t find her,” Izzy said, trying not to sound anxious. “There are lots of bike racks. We should have checked it out ahead of time and said specifically which one we’d meet at.”

  “I’ll call her,” said Allie, getting out her cell phone.

  “Don’t let a teacher see that,” warned a passing student, “or it’ll end up in phone jail.”

  “Phone jail?” repeated Allie. “What’s phone jail?”

  “A box in the principal’s office,” said the boy. “You can’t get your phone back till the end of the day.”

  Allie quickly jammed her phone into her pocket. “Now what’ll we do?” she asked Izzy. “How will we find Charlie? What if the bell rings and it’s time to go inside? We can’t be late on our first day!”

  Izzy was already on edge, and Allie’s questions came close to nudging her into a panic. Luckily, just then they saw Charlie rolling toward them on her bike, eating a banana that she held in her free hand. Charlie was wearing cotton pants and a T-shirt that said “Lettuce turnip the beet.” She looked unruffled and unhurried, even as Allie was waving to her and shouting, “Hurry up!”

  “I love your shirt,” said Izzy. “Very vegetarian.”

  “Thanks,” said Charlie as they all parked their bikes in the bike rack. “I wore short sleeves because last year on the first day of school I roasted. But I’m starting to regret it…it’s chilly out today!”

  When the girls entered the building, Allie shivered and said, “Yikes! It’s freezing in here!”

  “My shirt should say ‘Lettuce turnip the HEAT’!” said Charlie, rubbing her arms to warm them.

  “The temperature must be absolute zero,” said Izzy. Granddad had taught her that absolute zero is the coldest possible temperature. “I’ve got goose bumps,” she continued. “But maybe that’s just because I’m excited.”

  “Body temperature rises with emotion,” said Charlie. “It doesn’t sink.”

  Then I should be boiling, thought Izzy, because I’m a hot mess.

  It was just as hard to walk in the busy, bustling, bulging building as Izzy had feared it would be. The halls were so jammed that the girls were shoved and buffeted, jostled and pushed, and they had to wiggle their way along the wall to get by. There were two staircases, and both of them were challenging to navigate because some students were cascading down while others were battling to go up.

  “I feel like a salmon swimming my way up a waterfall,” said Charlie as she and Izzy and Allie struggled up one of the staircases. Charlie was the tallest of the three girls, so she led the way. But even so, because of the congested halls and staircase, the girls were last to the auditorium for sixth-grade assembly, which was nerve-racking. And worse than that, they were scolded when they finally got there. “Girls, you are going to have to move faster,” a teacher said, shaking her head as they skittered into the auditorium.

  Allie began to protest, “We—”

  “Go!” said the teacher. She waved them forward into the auditorium, saying, “Find seats.”

  In among the scary sea of strangers, Izzy was glad to see some faces that were familiar from her old elementary school, the lake, and even her neighborhood. But of course, she admitted to herself, she was really searching for one face in particular: Marie’s.

  It was Allie who first spotted her. “Don’t look now,” Allie muttered. She tilted her head toward the front of the auditorium. “There’s Mademoiselle Marie.”

  Izzy’s heart lifted at the sight of her old friend. When Marie had cut off communication with her, Izzy had tried not to care so that she didn’t hurt so much. Now all of her feelings for Marie came rushing back. She was so glad to see her! Marie was down by the stage. She was standing up, looking around.

  “Marie is looking for us,” said Izzy happily.

  “Not likely,” said Allie. “See that one empty seat next to her? She’s saving it for someone. That’s a no-brainer.”

  “Maybe,” said Izzy. “But let’s go say hi anyway.”

  “Okay.” Allie shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”

  Izzy led the way. Charlie was close behind, walking slowly as if toward an animal she didn’t want to startle, and Allie was lagging last. Izzy kept her eyes on Marie’s face as they went toward her. When Marie saw them, Izzy gave her a little wave. Marie didn’t exactly frown, but she didn’t smile, either. Her expression was a hard-to-read chemical concoction of surprise, dread, and discomfort.

  “Welcome back, Marie,” said Izzy. She spoke softly and reached out for a hug.

  Marie stepped back, out of hugging range. “Thanks,” she said flatly.

  She only nodded when Charlie said, “We’re happy to see you.”

  Allie and Marie said at the same time, “Hi.”

  “So! No more glasses,” said Izzy, a little too heartily. “You’ve got contact lenses now. Very cool. And you don’t have braces anymore, either.”

  “I’m still a metal mouth,” said Allie, pointing to her braces. “And a motormouth, too.”

  Allie laughed loudly at her own joke and Izzy cringed, thinking, Turn your volume down, Allie. Quickly, Izzy said to Marie, “I love your new hairdo. It’s The Best!” Marie always had been very particular about her appearance, and straight-up fearless about fashion and hairdos. Today her hair had a hot pink streak from her part to her chin that matched her shirt’s hot pink sequin stripes and the pink sparkles scattered across her tulle skirt. “You should be, like, a social media influencer or something!” said Izzy.

  “Oh,” said Marie, tucking a pink streak of hair behind one ear. “Thanks.”

  “And wow!” said Charlie, pointing to Marie’s sneakers, which were shiny and changed colors when she moved. “How’d you make your shoes glow like that?”

  “Oh,” said Marie again, “phosphorescent paint.”

  Izzy saw that Marie was distracted, and she saw why: Two girls were staring at Izzy, Marie, Allie, and Charlie and whispering to each other. A wave of self-consciousness swept over Izzy from head to toe. Politely she said, “Listen, Marie. We’re late to this assembly already because of the crowded halls. Aren’t those stairs just the worst? And can you believe how cold it is in here? Anyway, we have to hustle to find seats, so we can’t talk now, but can you come over after school? Granddad would love to see you! We’ll make sundaes, like we used to! Or peanut butter toast or sandwiches with—what did you always call it when we were little? Swish cheese!”

  “Thank you, Izzy,” said Marie, also polite. “But no, I have to go straight home.”

  “We could come to your house,” suggested Charlie.

  “No,” Marie said again. “That won’t work.”

  “Oh, right,” said Charlie. “I remember that your mom always was sort of strict.” Marie’s mom kept the house “just so” at all times and decorated it elaborately.

  Izzy piped up, “Remember that time we made an explosion in your kitchen and blew the fuses and all your Christmas lights went out? Your mom was pretty mad about it. So I guess—”

  “Look,” Marie said abruptly, “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

  “Oh! Okay,” said Izzy, Charlie, and Allie together, all three taken aback by Marie’s coldness.

  Sometimes, when Izzy was anxious, she made dumb jokes. This was one of those times. She grinned too wide and said goodbye to Marie the way they used to when they were in third grade: “See you later, alligator!”

  Charlie understood that Izzy was nervously trying to remind Marie of the fun they used to have. She laughed kindly and said, “¡Vale! Okay, Izzy! We’re not in third grade anymore, but I’ll pick up my cue. I say, ‘In a while, crocodile.’ Right?”

  Not one to miss a beat, Allie chimed in, “And I say, ‘See you soon, raccoon!’ ”

  They waited for Marie to say, “In an hour, sunflower!”

  When she didn’t, Allie said, in an exaggeratedly bad French accent, “Au revoir, minotaur! That’s a French on
e I made up for you, Marie.”

  Marie winced, and Izzy saw that the two staring girls were snickering at them now. “Yes, well,” Marie said curtly, “as Charlie said, we’re not in third grade anymore. I’ll see you around.” She turned away and sat down.

  “Yikes,” said Allie as she and Charlie and Izzy walked back up the aisle. “I’d say I told you so, but that was even more awkward than I thought it would be.”

  Even Izzy had to admit, “Marie didn’t exactly seem overjoyed to see us.”

  “Ya think?” said Allie. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

  “It’s like she’s Marie’s evil twin,” said Charlie. She sighed. “Well, there’s no way we can stop her from being different from the way she used to be. She has evolved.”

  Izzy felt torn in two. Part of her still believed that Marie wanted to be their friend, even if she had changed in other ways. But after that encounter, part of her couldn’t shake off this nagging, negative thought: One law of physics is that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Marie certainly had an equal and opposite reaction to our warm friendliness: a very cold shoulder.

  Izzy glanced back and saw Marie wave to someone—a new girl that Izzy didn’t recognize—and motion the girl toward her and the seat that she had saved. The new girl had snappy brown eyes. She wore eyeglasses with big frames and overalls with lots of pockets. Marie spoke animatedly and intently to her as they took their seats next to one another. It was clear to see Marie had no cold shoulder for the new girl.

  For a second, Izzy was crushed. Then her determined streak kicked in, and she thought, I don’t know how, but Allie, Charlie, and I will warm Marie up. We’ll make her want to be our friend again.