Kate the Chemist: Dragons vs. Unicorns

by Kate Biberdorf

  “This is a miracle,” I said. “Since I’m awful at Bubble Zap.”

  “And now you’re a legend.”

  “Wait until we tell Elijah. I’m going to destroy his top score!” Pop! Pop! Pop! I continued to rack up points. But a couple of bubbles vanished before I could get them. Then all at once the game was over.

  “What?!!! It can’t just end. I was so close. This thing is rigged!” I flung the iPad so that it bounced against a pillow, landing with a soft thud on a stack of magazines on the coffee table.

  Birdie snapped out of her headstand. “Hey, easy on that.” Her face was firework red. The super bright kind made from a gray carbon powder called strontium carbonate. Birdie plopped next to me on the couch. “You never give up on games. What’s going on?”

  “I should have beaten Elijah’s score with those ten bubbles at once.” I harrumphed.

  “Oh, c’mon. It’s just Bubble Zap. It’s so dumb they should pay us to play it.”

  A smile crept onto my face, so I bit my bottom lip. I didn’t want Birdie to stop cheering me up. I sighed like my grandma Dort.

  “Seriously, what’s really up?” asked Birdie softly.

  Flopping back against the couch, I tried to figure out the best way to explain that I’d been worrying about fall break camp all week. I really wanted to do it with Birdie and Elijah. But I didn’t think there were any choices that all three of us would want to do together. “We can’t do chemistry camp during fall break since Ms. Daly will be gone,” I said. “But that’s the only camp we’d both like. Elijah, too. And I’d miss you if I did math camp while you did art camp.”

  “That’s why you’re in a bad mood?” Birdie flopped back next to me. “I’d miss you, too! I can’t believe Ms. Daly is going away to St. Paul. But I’m sure we can figure out something.”

  “I mean, Ms. Daly deserves an awesome vacation. But still. Kids need science as much as breathing. I mean, every time we”—I made a gulping sound—“breathe, it’s science. Oxygen molecules going in and”—I exhaled—“carbon dioxide molecules going out.”

  Birdie dramatically puffed out air. “Yup. There go some molecules right now. See ya”—she waved—“have a nice life.”

  “Not just some molecules. Billions and billions. A whole galaxy.”

  “Wow,” said Birdie. “I never thought of it that way. I’ll have to sketch this galaxy.”

  “You could during fall science camp.” I hopped off the couch. “If it existed.”

  “Wait, maybe you could run camp! If any kid could do that, it’d be you, Kate.”

  I thought about that. I could totally run a science camp. I knew so many experiments from watching Dr. Caroline on YouTube. “Hm,” I said, pondering the idea. “I could definitely come up with some fun experiments and demos.”

  “But probably don’t do the fire breathing one.” Birdie glanced at the fire extinguisher in our kitchen. “It went amazing yesterday. But that poor cactus.”

  “Good point. But there’s a glue demo I could try.”

  “Ooh, and then we could use it to make a collage!” Birdie said.

  I took a deep breath. “Okay, so all I have to do is convince my mom I could lead fall break chemistry camp. Which means I need to get her in a really good mood. You came up with the perfect solution, Birdie!”

  Birdie took a bow. “What are best friends for?” she asked.

  Pacing back and forth in front of the couch, I talked to myself. “Think, Kate. C’mon. I could wash her car. Except it’s already clean. She just waxed it.” I tapped my head, trying to think harder. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  “Are you trying to pop bubbles in your brain?” joked Birdie.

  “I sure hope not,” I said. “Hey, I got it! Mom just bought a new bag of chocolate pieces. Which means she is getting ready to bake brownies. But with her grant due, she hasn’t had time. We’ll make them for her! That’s perfect!”

  “It’ll make me happy, too,” said Birdie, licking her lips.

  We both jumped together like we were on the trampoline. Then Birdie suddenly stopped. “That’s a good sign,” she said. “That she bought the chocolate, I mean.”

  Birdie was big into signs and omens. Not me. The only way to know the future was by testing out a hypothesis, which was basically an educated guess.

  Based on the number of bags of semisweet chocolate pieces Mom had purchased in her lifetime, especially when she was worried, I could safely guess she was craving brownies, her absolute favorite dessert. Since last night, she had been holed up in her office working on that grant for a school garden. The deadline was Monday. She wanted to name the garden in honor of a second-grade teacher, Mrs. Farwell, who was retiring this year.

  Super chocolaty brownies were definitely the answer.

  They just had to be.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LIKE MUD

  Condensation (noun). A gas turns into a liquid when the conditions are just right. It’s like a bunch of molecules at a party, sliding into one another mosh-pit style. Then an electric wand messes with them, and now the molecules are closer together and dancing in unison.

  WITH WIDE EYES, Liam studied the bag of semisweet chocolate on the counter. And the sugar, eggs, vanilla, flour, cocoa powder, and salt. “What are you making?”

  “Brownies,” said Birdie.

  “Hey, I want to make brownies!” cried Liam.

  I put my fingers to my lips. “Shhh, keep your voice down.”

  Liam squinted. “Is it a ’prise?”

  “A surprise,” I corrected. “For Mom. She’s been working really hard and needs a little treat.”

  “I could hear you shouting earlier,” said Liam. “You were loud.”

  “We shouldn’t have been,” said Birdie, setting out metal measuring cups.

  “I want to make brownies!” Liam grabbed the bag of chocolate pieces.

  “You’re too little to cook by yourself,” I said. Liam was in kindergarten. Mom didn’t let me cook by myself until the summer after third grade.

  “At school, I’m a paper passer.” Liam proudly thumped his chest. “And a line leader.”

  “Well, now you can be the official taster,” I said. “That’s the best part of brownie making.”

  “You get to lick the bowl,” explained Birdie.

  “But I want to cook!” Liam waved the bag of chocolate. It dropped out of his curled fist, thwacking against the island counter.

  “Hey, what’s going on in here?” asked Dad, walking in from the basement. That was where he has his woodworking area and spent several hours during the weekends. He glanced at the ingredients on the counter and then at Liam. “Why don’t we let your sister and Birdie take care of baking? Buddy, I need you to go with me to the grocery store. We’re clear out of milk. And you can’t eat brownies without milk, now can you?” Dad scooped up the car keys from the rack. “Plus, I need a shopping associate. And just maybe you can help pick out some chips.”

  “The kind that gets my hands orangey?” Liam stared at his palm. “Or the kind with green flecks?”

  “Orange or green. Dealer’s choice.”

  “Yes!” As Liam charged to the door, he knocked into our dog’s water bowl. A small puddle spread out on our new kitchen floor.

  “I’m on it!” I grabbed a rag and wiped the wood floor.

  “Thanks, Kate,” said Dad. “But next time let your brother do it himself.”

  “Sure!” I tossed the rag to Liam. “Go for it!”

  “You already did the good part,” moaned Liam. “It’s hardly wet now.”

  Only my brother would think that wiping up a spill was fun. Once after Liam complained that I got to unload the dishwasher, Dad had said that I made everything look cool since I was five years older. I grabbed a glass of water and spilled it. “There you go! A huge puddle!” Dad rolled his eyes but di
dn’t say anything. He was awesome like that.

  As Liam wiped, Dad put his hand on my shoulder. “There’s something I want to ask you, girls.” He drew in his eyebrows in a serious discussion face. “I want you to think about this long and hard before answering.”

  Birdie and I looked at each other. When it came to very important questions, my dad, a therapist, who asked people the right question to help them figure out their problems, was an expert.

  “Cakey or fudgy brownies?” asked Dad.

  I laughed, relieved that Dad was just being a goofball. “For brownies, I’m team fudgy.”

  “Me too,” said Birdie.

  Dad told us that was wonderful news and asked if we needed any brownie-making advice from Mom. In our house, Dad’s the cook, but Mom’s the dessert maker. I’ve helped her make brownies but never made them myself. Still, I told him that I had it covered.

  “Baking is sort of like a science experiment,” said Dad, winking at us. “Where you still have to clean up after yourself.”

  “It’s only an experiment if we test something out,” I said. “And not just anything, but a hypothesis.”

  “I have a hypothesis,” said Dad. “That your brownies are going to be delicious.”

  Dad got a big thumbs-up from Birdie and me.

  Although after he and Liam left, I wished I had asked if Dad knew where to find Mom’s brownie recipe. It took Birdie and me forever to find what looked like the perfect fudgy recipe on her phone (saved by the bowl of rice that absorbed all the pond water).

  Suddenly, Birdie’s phone’s battery icon turned red. “Oh no! It’s running out of power.” Birdie frowned. “Snap! I forgot my charger.” Unfortunately, my parents’ chargers didn’t work with her phone. And I didn’t have a smartphone. Just an old flip one only to be used in an emergency. “Maybe we should look up the recipe on the computer and print it out,” said Birdie.

  “Nah.” I tapped my head. “It’s all up here.” I just need to get the ratios right. “Cooking is chemistry!”

  I boiled water in a pot like I’d seen Mom do, set a metal bowl on top of it, then stirred up the chocolate and butter into creamy deliciousness. When we set the smooth melted chocolate onto the counter, it immediately turned into what looked like pebbly mud.

  I yowled in frustration.

  “What is wrong with it?” shrieked Birdie.

  “I don’t know!” Okay. Don’t panic, I told myself. You can fix this.

  Examining the bottom of the pan, I noticed beads of water—condensation!

  “Aha!” said Birdie. “The chocolate seized. It’s when chocolate gets all mushy instead of luscious and silky. I saw that once on a cooking show.”

  “Right. It’s because it came into contact with moisture.” I slapped my forehead. “I should have thought of that! That’s basic chemistry. We’ve got to start all over again.” I glanced up at the clock. It was 4:00 p.m. Dinner would be in one hour because Mom wanted to eat early tonight. She had to be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow for her fitness boot camp class.

  I pulled out a clean glass bowl and set it over the pan of boiling water. This time everything had to be perfect.

  “The chocolate looks great,” I said a few minutes later.

  “And smells amazing.” Leaning over, Birdie admired the rich walnut-brown color. “Super creamy,” she exclaimed.

  “And this time, we’ll wipe off the condensation right away.”

  Just as I was about to pull the glass bowl off the stove, it shattered with a loud pop.

  Like a rain of hail, broken bits of glass and globs of chocolate hit the floor.

  “What’s that noise?” asked Mom.

  Uh-oh!

  CHAPTER SIX

  KITCHEN CHEMISTRY

  Thermal shock (noun). When a rapid temperature change stresses a material and causes cracks. It’s like when you pop out at someone and surprise them, and they totally lose it.

  “WHAT JUST HAPPENED HERE?” Wide-eyed, Mom peered around the kitchen.

  “Nothing,” I said, desperately picking up chocolate-covered glass chips with a cloth towel.

  “That’s glass,” observed Mom.

  “Maybe a little,” I squeaked. “We were making you brownies. Really fudgy kind. For dessert tonight.”

  “Oh, honey, you’ll have to make sure there’s no glass left anywhere. Liam’s always running barefoot. Get the broom out of the closet. And the dustpan. And make sure to—”

  “Wear gloves. I know, Mom. It was a total accident.”

  “I can see.” She studied the chocolate spread all over the stove.

  I couldn’t believe we just messed up like that. Right after wanting to do something nice for Mom. It made me think of entropy, the degree in which molecules can get dispersed. And right now, there was a whole bunch of entropy in this kitchen.

  Our dog, Dribble, bounded over to the oven, sniffing. He loved entropy.

  “Down, Dribble,” scolded Birdie. “You can’t have any. Chocolate is bad for dogs.”

  “I really appreciate you girls making dessert,” said Mom. “But why did you have the glass bowl over boiling water? Not smart.”

  The truth? I just wasn’t thinking. But I didn’t want to admit that to Mom. Not now. It probably wasn’t the ideal time, but maybe I could distract her from the broken glass with Birdie’s idea about chemistry camp. “Um, well, it was more than just brownie making,” I said. “It was part of an experiment. And speaking of experiments, during fall break, since Ms. Daly won’t be around . . .” As I continued to talk, Birdie kept on giving me this look, like be quiet. Only I couldn’t be quiet. Once I started talking about chemistry, I couldn’t stop, and plus, I was nervous about making Mom mad. “We thought I’d be the perfect person to lead a chemistry camp instead. We could make magnetic slime. And do vinegar and baking soda explosions. Nothing would be dangerous. All of it would be fun.”

  “I’m sure it’d be fun.” Mom eyed the gloppy bubbly chocolate and shards of glass still left near the burner. “But no.”

  I moaned. “C’mon, Mom. There’s nothing else that both Birdie and I like to do—Elijah, too. And we want to spend fall break together.”

  “I guess you’ll just have to think of something else.” She opened the fridge to grab a bottle of ginger kombucha, a fizzy drink that’s supposed to be good for your health, unlike soda.

  “Hey, could I borrow a kombucha?” I asked. “It’s fermented. It’d be great for an experiment.”

  “It’s my last one. You’ll have to find something else, Kate.” Mom glanced at the clock on the microwave. “My deadline awaits. Good luck, girls. Make sure you get all the chocolate off the stove, too.” My mom was used to my messes—at least she knew I was a good cleaner-upper.

  After Mom went back into the office, Birdie sighed. “That didn’t go so well. Don’t worry, Kate. We can still make brownies and figure out what do during break. What about doing drama camp?”

  I pictured my face full of stage makeup, hot lights burning on my cheeks all while I had to figure out how to spin in the same direction as everyone else. “I’m just not good at being onstage like that.”

  “But you were great breathing fire! And theater camp is going to be Dragons vs. Unicorns, a short one-act musical. Mrs. Hansberry wrote it, and it’ll be performed for the first time ever at the end of fall break. Unicorns. Honestly. Can it get any better? If you’re a dragon, maybe you could even breathe fire.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “One teensy problem,” I said. “I’m not really good at singing or acting . . . and especially not dancing.” I bent over to pick up the dustpan I was using and dumped the glass into the trash can.

  “Let’s hear you sing, ‘Happy Birthday,’” Birdie said as she got a sponge to clean up some spattered chocolate.

  I stopped by the sink and belted it out. My vo
ice came out screechy and awful.

  “Okay.” Birdie plugged her ears. “You’re right. Maybe you’re not the best singer. What if you just mouthed the words?”

  I sighed. “Elijah’s coming over after dinner. Maybe he’ll have some other fall break camp ideas.”

  “It’ll be okay,” Birdie said, patting my shoulder. “The important thing is we’re going to get to spend a whole five days together. We’ll figure out something.”

  I hoped she was right.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LEAVING IT UP TO CHANCE

  Gas (noun). The molecules have moved farther apart than in a solid or a liquid. They are like bumper cars ramming into one another, completely out of control.

  AFTER DINNER—AND DELICIOUS brownies that Birdie and I managed to get perfectly fudgy—Elijah, Birdie, and I jumped on the trampoline in my backyard.

  “We’re out-of-control gas molecules,” I shouted, throwing my arms wildly and slamming into Birdie, who giggled and plugged her nose like we were stinky.

  “Does everything have to be about chemistry?” asked Elijah. “Like, couldn’t we just be kids jumping on a trampoline?”

  Birdie stuck out her tongue. “Boring! Don’t you ever pretend that you’re something else when you’re practicing the drums?”

  “No,” said Elijah. “That would be weird.”

  “Can you two stop it?” I said, plopping myself down on the trampoline. “I want to have a very important conversation: What fall break camp are we going to do together? Don’t you think the robotics club sounds cool?”

  Birdie made a face and plopped down next to me. “My sister did that one a few years ago and brought the stuff home. I already know everything they’re going to do. So, no thanks.”

  “Hey, I’ve got an idea!” Elijah picked up the info sheet and then tossed it so it fluttered, settling near the netting of the trampoline. “The writer’s workshop. That’s what we should do.”