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

by Valerie Tripp

  After Izzy signed up to play her flute in the Marching Band, she went from table to table, too. She looked for Marie’s name on every sign-up sheet but never saw it. She looked for a table for the ice hockey team, too, and didn’t see that, either, so she went to the table for the girls’ field hockey team and patiently waited in line. Izzy was interested to see Marie and her new friend standing near the line, clearly arguing about whether to sign up or not.

  When it was Izzy’s turn, the seventh grader at the table handed her a clipboard. “Print your name,” said the seventh grade girl to Izzy.

  “Oh,” said Izzy shyly. “I…I’m not…I just wanted to ask: Where do I sign up to try out for the ice hockey team?”

  All the girls at and near the table, including Marie and her friend, stared at Izzy.

  “First of all,” said the seventh grader, sounding superior, “ice hockey is a winter sport, so those tryouts won’t be until later. Second, girls don’t play ice hockey.”

  “Oh,” said Izzy again. She burned with self-consciousness. And something else made her hot, too: her stubborn streak. “Well,” she said, “I do.”

  “Not in middle school you won’t,” dismissed the girl. She looked behind Izzy and said, “Who’s next?”

  Izzy pivoted and left. Gratefully, she joined Charlie and Allie, who were sitting on the floor in a corner, eating their lunches.

  “How can you possibly be sweaty?” Charlie asked as Izzy swiped at her forehead with her palm. “It’s freezing in here! My yogurt’s turned into frozen yogurt.”

  Izzy explained what the seventh-grade girl at the field hockey table had said.

  Allie made a face at the girl, which luckily the girl did not see. “Seventh-grade snob,” Allie said.

  “You weren’t even asking to sign up for field hockey,” said Charlie.

  “I signed up for everything,” said Allie merrily. “I figure, go for broke!”

  “You know what’s strange?” said Izzy. “I looked at all the sign-up sheets, and Marie’s not on any of them.”

  “I know,” said Allie. “I checked them, too, and I noticed the same thing. Why not, do you think?”

  “It’s beyond me,” said Izzy.

  “I can’t believe she’s not interested in anything offered here,” added Charlie, waving her spoon in an arc at the room. “That’s weird.”

  Mr. Delmonico clapped his hands for attention and called out, “Last call. Time’s just about up. Remember, team tryouts are tomorrow, Friday afternoon, after school. If you signed up, show up. Before we end, any suggestions for new clubs?”

  “Yeah!” called out a seventh grader. “How about a Heat Wave Club to warm up this meat locker of a building?”

  “How about a club called The Ice Breakers?” shouted out another kid.

  “I think we need a Cryobiology Club to figure out how we can survive in here,” added another.

  Mr. Delmonico nodded wearily. Izzy felt a wave of sympathy for him. She could tell that he was really tired of jokes about being cold. “We’re working on the cold problem,” he said. “Any serious suggestions for new clubs?”

  Izzy had an inspiration. “Hey,” she whispered to Allie and Charlie, “Marie always loved chemistry and science-y stuff as much as we do. What if we had a STEM team? Do you think Marie would join that?”

  “I don’t know about snooty Marie,” said Allie, “but I’d join it in a flash. Suggest it.” She ripped a blank page out of her notebook and shoved it and a pen toward Izzy. “Use this as your sign-up sheet.”

  “Oh no!” whispered Izzy, leaning back, both palms raised. “I couldn’t!” She hated to call attention to herself. Talking at the field hockey table had been agonizing enough. She couldn’t possibly stand up in front of the whole cafeteria and talk all by herself. She absolutely, positively could not. “You suggest it,” she said to Allie.

  “No way, no how,” said Allie. “I’m not taking credit for your good idea.”

  “Me either,” said Charlie. “Don’t overthink this, Izzy. Pretend you’re jumping off the rope swing and just do it. Buena suerte.”

  Izzy’s stomach tied itself in knots. She shook her head no. But then she thought: What if a STEM team was a way—what if it was the ONLY way—to reach out to Marie? With all her heart, Izzy wanted to reconnect to Marie. She remembered what Granddad had said: If there’s something you’re determined about, you speak up.

  So Izzy took the pen and paper from Allie. Then she took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and stood up. Behind her on either side, Allie and Charlie nudged each other and opened their eyes wide in happy astonishment. But it was so noisy and chaotic in the lunchroom that no one noticed Izzy. So Charlie put her fingers in her mouth and blew an ear-piercing whistle, and Allie jumped up and down yelling, “Hey, hey, HEY!” Out of the corner of her eye, Izzy saw Trevor flicking the lights on and off.

  When the kids got quiet, Allie shouted, “Take it, Izzy!”

  Izzy thought she might throw up.

  “Yes?” said Mr. Delmonico, looking at Izzy.

  He wasn’t the only one. In fact, it seemed to Izzy that every head in the room turned toward her. This was her nightmare. Knees shaking and voice squeaky, Izzy said, “How about…how about a STEM team?”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Mr. Delmonico. “Funds are tight. Budget may be a problem, so I’ll have to ask the school board to approve. I’ll tell you what; why don’t you do some research about STEM teams for me that I can share with the board. Anybody else interested in a STEM team? Give me a quick show of hands.”

  Allie waved both arms, whooping, “Woo-oooo!” Charlie raised her hand; it happened to have a bunch of grapes dangling from it. Trevor raised his hand, and then some other kids did, too. Izzy held her breath and, Yes! she thought joyfully, because Marie raised her hand as well.

  Mr. Delmonico said, “Okay, everybody’s who’s interested in a STEM team, go see…” He turned back to Izzy, asking, “What’s your name?”

  “Izzy Newton,” said Izzy. Her voice was faint, but it didn’t matter because Allie and Charlie called it out with her at the same time.

  “Go see Izzy Newton and write your name on her sign-up sheet,” said Mr. Delmonico. As kids headed over to do so, he went on, “I’m not saying it’s a definite go, but the more names on the list, the more the board is likely to approve it. Include the list with your research, Izzy.”

  Izzy nodded. Allie flung her arm around Izzy’s shoulder with a smile a mile wide, and Charlie tilted her head toward where Marie was standing. Izzy looked at Marie and met her glance. Was that an infinitesimal smile on Marie’s face? Yup. But it didn’t last long; the new girl next to Marie said something to her and Marie’s smile slipped off fast.

  But, Oh, boy! thought Izzy, pleased to have caught Marie’s interest. Izzy sat at the end of a cafeteria table. She printed STEM TEAM at the top of the paper and under it she wrote: 1. Izzy Newton. Then she turned the paper around and handed the pen to the first kid crowded up next to the table. Allie took charge of the rest of the kids who wanted to sign up, corralling them into one orderly line. Charlie sat next to Izzy and instructed everyone to print neatly so that all the names would be legible.

  Izzy was hardly aware of the happy commotion. She felt weak with relief and, at the same time, proud. It might seem insignificant to other people, but to Izzy, her victory over shyness was huge. It was, she thought happily, one small victory for friendship.

  * * *

  Right after lunch, Izzy went to her locker to put the sign-up sheet away. It had 24 names on it. Marie had not signed the sheet, but Izzy was sure she’d show up if the STEM team took off. Izzy’s locker was easy to find because it was near the cafeteria, in the same hall as Allie’s and Charlie’s lockers. And her combination was easy to remember: 3-14-16, which was pi, rounded to the nearest ten-thousandth. Then Izzy went to the Girls’ Room, which was even more of a freezer than the cafeteria. Izzy was surprised the water in the toilets hadn’t turned to ice! She was
in a stall when she heard two girls come in.

  “So that’s the girl you told me about, right?” Izzy heard an unfamiliar voice say. “That intense girl?”

  “Mm-hmm,” the other girl answered.

  “She’s out there! I mean, it’s like she just didn’t get the memo about what’s cool and uncool in middle school,” the new voice went on. “She wants to be on the ice hockey team? And on top of that, she’s a science nerd. I’m like, ‘Whoa! That girl’s toxic.’ Hey, by the way, I saw you raise your hand, but you know you can’t join that STEM team thing of hers, right? It’s impossible.”

  The other girl’s response was lost in the rush of water as the girls washed their hands. But it didn’t matter. Izzy knew that the girls had been talking about her. She froze solid in the stall, because when she looked down, she saw Marie’s glowing shoes! And then she heard Marie say, “Come over to my house this afternoon. We’ll hang out.”

  “Okay,” said the new girl as she and Marie left the Girls’ Room together.

  Izzy leaned her forehead against the cold metal door of the stall, thinking: So the new girl can go to Marie’s house and have fun, but Charlie, Allie, and I can’t. And what’s worse, Allie’s right: Marie thinks I’m a giant loser.

  So, should she give up her hopes for renewing her old friendship with Marie? Izzy didn’t know. But Izzy was sure that there couldn’t be any worse feeling in the world than thinking that she’d lost an old friend, especially one who used to really get her and like her in all her weirdness—a friend who liked the real Izzy and seemed to know that real Izzy better than she did herself. It was unusual to have a friend who liked you because of your unique quirkiness, down to your soul. That’s who Marie had been. That’s whom Izzy was pretty sure she’d lost. Because Marie now thought Izzy was a dork, somebody to avoid because she was—what was the word the new girl had used? Toxic.

  The next day, Friday, was blissfully Forensics free. Izzy, Allie, and Charlie all stayed after school. Charlie bundled up in a hoodie and vest because of the cold weather outside and headed to the field to try out for the track team. Allie set out on a marathon of club meetings. Izzy went to the library and media center to gather information about STEM teams to present to Mr. Delmonico.

  Izzy always loved libraries. They were usually quiet but humming with ideas and, best of all, full of Izzy’s favorite stuff: books, computers, and other things to read. Since it was after school, there were lots of kids in the library playing games on the computers and doing homework even though it was uncomfortably cold; there seemed to be a polar vortex whistling through the bookstacks. Izzy saw Trevor sitting on the floor near the windows, but he had the hood of his parka pulled up and was so deep into his book that she didn’t think he saw her. Izzy noticed that Trevor was reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, which was her favorite book in the series. She reminded herself not to tell Allie that she and Trevor liked the same book. Allie was sure to read too much into that fact.

  “May I help you?” asked Ms. Okeke, the Atom Middle School librarian and media specialist. She was tall, and her bright blue gele made her even taller.

  “Yes, please,” answered Izzy. “I’m looking for information about STEM teams.”

  Ms. Okeke smiled. “You are the girl who suggested a team, aren’t you?”

  Izzy nodded.

  “The school I worked in back in Nigeria sent a team to the global competition,” said Ms. Okeke. “Come on. Let’s find information to convince Mr. Delmonico and the school board that Atom Middle School should have a team, too.”

  With Ms. Okeke’s enthusiastic help, Izzy found several excellent articles to show Mr. Delmonico. “I think this one’s the best,” said Izzy. She showed Ms. Okeke an article about a team of girls who called themselves “the Hoppers.”

  Sixth-Grade Girls Win STEM Contest

  The seven sixth-grade girls call their STEM team “the Hoppers” in honor of Grace Hopper, a computer pioneer. The Hoppers invented a compost receptacle that’s biodegradable. They won their regional STEM tournament and their state tournament, and then they went to the World Finals and competed against kids from 25 countries. Every team was allowed only $145 for all their materials.

  “Only a hundred and forty-five dollars for materials,” said Ms. Okeke. “That should help Mr. Delmonico feel better about the budget.”

  Izzy printed copies of the newspaper articles they had found. She attached the STEM Team sign-up sheet to it. Then she wrote a note and attached it to the articles, too:

  Dear Mr. Delmonico,

  I’m Izzy Newton, the girl who suggested a STEM team here at Atom Middle School. You asked me to present you with research to share with the school board to convince them to approve the idea. Here it is. Ms. Okeke helped me.

  I’ve attached the sign-up sheet. You can see that 24 students wrote their names on it to show their interest. I think even more kids would join the STEM team once it got started.

  A STEM team would be fun, educational, and inexpensive. We could go to competitions, and we might also be able to solve problems right here at Atom Middle School. That way, we’d be following your One School Rule: Be kind.

  Sincerely,

  Isabelle Newton

  Ms. Okeke gave Izzy a big manila envelope to put everything in. “Good luck, Ms. Newton,” she said. “I’m rooting for you and your STEM team idea.”

  “Thanks!” said Izzy. “And thanks for all your help.”

  Izzy held the envelope close to her chest as she left the library.

  “Hey,” said Trevor, catching up to her. “What’s that?”

  “Stuff about STEM team,” said Izzy.

  “Good!” said Trevor. He gave Izzy a thumbs-up before he loped off down the hall to his locker.

  Izzy walked to the principal’s office. Mr. Delmonico was not there and the door to his office was closed, so Izzy slid the envelope under his door, where he’d be sure to see it first thing Monday morning. Izzy shivered. It was as chilly in the doorway outside Mr. Delmonico’s office as it was in the rest of the school. When we have a STEM team, she thought, WE’LL solve the mystery of the cold school!

  Izzy had finished her after-school task, so she went outside to watch the track team tryouts. Izzy sat in the sunniest spot on the bleachers to warm up. She was just in time to see a race with both Charlie and the new girl, Marie’s friend, in the lineup.

  Marie’s friend had changed out of her school outfit and was wearing red tights underneath cut-off jeans, a T-shirt that said “Daytona Beach,” a plaid shirt tied around her waist, purple high-tops, and brown socks. Her outfit looked like it had been collected from four different secondhand stores and thrown together any which way. But the new girl looked confident and completely comfortable—actually, very happy—not to look quite like anyone else. She didn’t look mean. But Izzy frowned to herself when she recalled how snarky the new girl had been when she made fun of Izzy in the Girls’ Room.

  Breet! went the coach’s whistle, and the runners were off.

  Charlie ran so gracefully and effortlessly, her long legs stretching forward, that Izzy didn’t realize how fast she was moving until she pulled out ahead of all the other runners. It was as if Charlie was not in a race at all but was just running by herself for the sheer pleasure of it. As Izzy watched Charlie run, she had a thought she’d had many times before: Charlie running was what beautiful music would look like if it were visible.

  Izzy saw the new girl put on a burst of speed, her

  plaid shirt flapping behind her. She nearly caught up with Charlie. Charlie won, but only by a stride. The rest of the runners cheered for her and thumped her on the back after crossing the finish line themselves. All except one: Marie’s friend. She frowned, put her hands on her hips, and walked away to catch her breath—but also to avoid congratulating Charlie, Izzy was sure.

  Nice new friend you’ve got there, Marie, thought Izzy. She’s snarky AND a sore loser!

  “TGIF!” hollered Allie. She came fl
ying up to Izzy and Charlie at their lockers after Charlie’s practice. “Want to hang out?”

  “Yes, but not at my house,” said Izzy, pulling the books she needed for weekend homework out of her locker, “because we’ll be interrupted nonstop. My brothers will bug you to play video games with them. It kills them that you always win.”

  “Just naturally brilliant, I guess.” Allie shrugged, beaming. “What can I say?”

  “I think your brothers are nice,” said Charlie.

  “They can be,” said Izzy. She actually did have lots of fun with her brothers.

  “And as I’ve told you a million times, your brothers are total eye candy,” said Allie. “Definitely crush material.”

  “Hunh,” scoffed Izzy, rolling her eyes. “Talk about crush. They can crush about a million pancakes at breakfast, no sweat.”

  “Ohh,” moaned Charlie. “Pancakes! You’re making me hungry. Let’s go to my house. It’s closest.”

  “Great!” said Izzy and Allie. They always liked to go to Charlie’s. She and her moms and brothers lived in a big rambling old house. Charlie’s moms were both veterinarians, so there were sometimes recuperating animals in the house, and just born baby animals to play with.

  As they biked from school to Charlie’s house, Allie asked, “So how’d it go with your STEM research, Izzy?”

  “Easy-peasy,” said Izzy. “Ms. Okeke and I found lots of good info.”

  “Did Mr. Delmonico agree to ask the board for money?” asked Charlie.

  “Not yet,” said Izzy. “He wasn’t in his office, so I left my research and the sign-up sheet and a note in an envelope under his door. I hope we’ll hear back from him soon. Maybe Monday.”