Kate the Chemist: Dragons vs. Unicorns

by Kate Biberdorf

  ON FRIDAY MORNING, I paced back and forth in the science lab. My nerves must have been firing extra fast because my skin literally prickled with excitement. Today was the dress rehearsal. This was the very last time to practice before the show on Saturday afternoon.

  This was the last chance to figure anything out.

  I stood in front of the counter, along with Ms. Daly and the three main dragons, Jeremy, Rory, and Julia. We had tried to test out the dragon breathing special effect yesterday but we ended up spending so much time getting a couple of dancing and singing numbers right that we didn’t have time. Today, we had all arrived at school extra early to test it out.

  Soon fog would shoot out of the Cheetos now soaking in the cups of freezing-cold liquid nitrogen on the counter. There was one cup for each dragon.

  “Ready for some dragon smoke?” asked Ms. Daly

  “Oh yeah!” I said. But it was a teeny lie. We were about to do potentially dangerous special effects. That was, if we didn’t follow our protocol with an experienced adult standing next to us.

  But we had followed every safety precaution. And Ms. Daly and I knew what we were doing. Just to be safe, we were all wearing the special coated gloves to protect our hands. These were the gloves I had wanted for my birthday. Ms. Daly had convinced the community college to let us borrow them for the play.

  She and I guarded the bowls of liquid nitrogen.

  “The rules are you must leave the liquid nitrogen in the cup and never touch it,” I said.

  “Otherwise, it can burn you,” finished Ms. Daly. Like me, she wore a lab coat and safety goggles.

  Jeremy stepped back. “Are you sure this is safe?”

  “Positive. As long as you carefully follow the directions,” I said.

  The dragons all stabbed a Cheeto with a long wooden spear that looked like an extra-long toothpick.

  “Can we eat the Cheetos now?” asked Julia. “I’m hungry.”

  “Not yet,” said Ms. Daly. “Hold your horses. I mean hold your unicorns.”

  We all laughed at the corny joke.

  “We need to wait until all the liquid becomes a gas,” I said. “Maybe we should all count to ten Michigan to be super safe.”

  “Ten Michigan?” asked Jeremy, raising his eyebrows.

  “It’s a thing,” I said.

  Everyone held their speared Cheeto, waiting. Then after ten Michigans, when the Cheetos released puffs of clouds, I said, “Okay, it’s ready!”

  The three dragons crunched on their Cheetos and exhaled. Smoke curled out of their nostrils. Okay, not actual smoke. More like fog. I bounced up and down clapping, “It’s awesome!”

  “The Cheeto tastes pretty good, too,” said Jeremy.

  “You look like real dragons,” Ms. Daly told them.

  All of the dragons roared their approval.

  “It went so perfectly,” I gushed, feeling truly pleased. “Now we just need to see if it will work in the performance. The trick will be to eat your Cheetos behind the curtain and hold your breath while you race onto the stage. It will basically be a one-time stunt as the chorus of other dragons sings, ‘Breathe fire, dragons, breathe!’”

  Jeremy waved his arm. “This is going to rock!”

  Or rather, smoke! I thought.

  A few minutes later, we were all back in the theater. I waved at Elijah in the lighting booth. And also at Birdie, who stood with the unicorns as they adjusted their costumes.

  Soon, Mrs. Hansberry gathered the rest of the cast and crew onto the stage. “While this isn’t an actual performance with an audience, it’s going to be like a real performance,” she said. “So we need to treat it like one.”

  After, we went over a reminder of who needed to be where and when, and Mrs. Hansberry gave a little pep talk. She discussed teamwork and pointed out how well everything was going. “I want to compliment you all for being on time today. Furthermore, I’m pleased to see that everyone is following the rules. Long pants. Closed-toe shoes with sturdy rubber soles.”

  Before doing this, I didn’t know that putting on a musical would be so complicated. Or that you would have to think about safety just like with chemistry.

  I knew that Mrs. Hansberry said that a bad dress rehearsal meant a good opening night. But I didn’t think I could take too much more Murphy’s Law.

  I really wanted the dress rehearsal to run smoothly.

  And while some actors dropped lines, and I had to give cues, and the lights were behind in a few places, it still felt like a real show.

  The unicorn horns finally stayed on everyone’s heads. Birdie tossed her mane wildly, and her horn didn’t budge. Without the distraction of the falling horns, Birdie and the rest of the cast were able to concentrate on singing and dancing.

  Afterward, we gathered to discuss what we could improve for the actual show tomorrow. Mostly Mrs. Hansberry asked that we go to bed early. Because a good night’s sleep was essential for the cast and the crew. And for directors, too. Her eyes met mine.

  “I’m truly excited,” she said. “I think the audience is going to enjoy this tremendously.”

  “Yeah, my horn feels like it’s part of my head now,” said Memito, shaking his mane.

  “Thanks to Kate’s chemistry skills,” said Mrs. Hansberry.

  “The dragon smoke looked great from the lighting booth,” said Elijah. “I aimed some lights with a blue gel, which made the smoke look smokier.”

  As everyone was packing away their costumes, I remembered Mrs. Hansberry’s warning. “Does that mean we will be in trouble tomorrow,” I asked Birdie, “because today went so well?”

  “As long as you say break a leg, and not those other words.” Birdie punched me playfully in the shoulder. “I’m sure everything will be fine. The dragon smoke was seriously cool. I can’t believe you figured it out.”

  I looked at Birdie. “How did you see it?”

  “Well.” Birdie’s cheeks turned pink. “I got here early and peeked in through the classroom window. A few other unicorns did, too. And some of the chorus dragons. It really is awesome.”

  I was kind of glad I didn’t know so many people were watching. It would’ve made me nervous! But I was happy Birdie got to see how it looked.

  “Actually, figuring out the dragon’s breath was easy. At least compared to discovering how globs of glue showed up in my backpack yesterday.”

  That’s when I glanced over at Avery, who glanced back at me.

  I crossed my arms. “Give me your backpack. I want to look at your bottle of glue.”

  “Why? It’s just glue. Glue is glue is glue.”

  “Actually, it’s not. There are different kinds. And different levels of adhesion. It all depends on if the glue is water based or—”

  “I got to go.” Avery grabbed her backpack.

  “Wait a minute. We need to talk. Why did you put glue on my stuff? You did, didn’t you? Twice?”

  Avery sighed. “So what if I squirted glue on your bag? Maybe now you’ll actually listen to me, Kate.”

  “What are you talking about? I listen all the time!”

  “No. You plow ahead doing whatever you want. You became assistant director when I told you that’s what I wanted!”

  She had said this the other day, and I really had no idea what she was talking about.

  “I’m confused. When did you tell me you wanted to be assistant director?”

  “In your mom’s minivan. We were coming back from the soccer tournament two weeks ago,” Avery said, leaning against the back of one of the audience chairs.

  “Well, I didn’t hear you,” I told her, crossing my arms.

  “That’s impossible. You were right there.” Now her hands were on her hips, and I could see she was getting mad all over again.

  I looked around for Birdie. “I seriously don’t remember that
conversation.”

  “I was sitting right next to you. Having a conversation with Monica and Heather, who were sitting in the back row.”

  “So you weren’t talking to me then,” I said, figuring out when this must’ve happened. “After a game, I just kind of zone out. I’m always super tired from running around.”

  “Oh, because you’re never on the bench.”

  “I didn’t say that.” I rolled my eyes. “Avery, you were only on the bench during the second half. I’m hardly on the bench because we don’t have any backup defenders.”

  Walking over, Birdie waved her arms. “Stop. There’s no point arguing about any of this. Does it matter right now?”

  “Not really,” I admitted.

  “And it’s true, Kate,” said Birdie “You’re my best friend and I love, love, love you. But sometimes, you do get stuck in your own head and don’t pay attention to what’s going on around you.”

  “Well, I—Okay. Yeah.” I stared at my shoes. “Next time, tell me directly.”

  “Next time,” said Avery, “try to listen more.”

  I breathed in. My parents tell me to do this when I get worked up. “I didn’t mean to—you know, not listen. I’m sorry about that.”

  Avery bit her lip. “Well, I could have said it to you directly, I guess. My dads get on me all of the time about that. I wanted to impress them so they’d give me more responsibility around their theater, and I thought being assistant director would be a good first step. That’s why I wanted it so badly.”

  I sighed. I knew what it was like to want to impress your parents and show them that you were responsible. “You’re an amazing dance captain, though—and assistant choreographer. The dragons never would’ve been as great as they are if you weren’t there to show them the steps.”

  “Thanks. And you’re really organized. You came up with some really great science things that made our show cooler. So I guess it all worked out after all. I’m sorry I was a jerk about it.”

  “And I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention to you in the car,” I said.

  It felt good to have apologized and to hear Avery apologize, too. But there was still one mystery left unsolved.

  “So where did you put my Cheetos the other day?” I asked. “Did you eat all of them?”

  “I promise that one wasn’t me.” Avery crossed her heart. “Look. I’m super sorry about the glue. And messing with the schedule. But I didn’t eat a single Cheeto.”

  “Okay, I believe you,” I said.

  But I still had no idea who took my Cheetos.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  N-R-G!

  Kinetic Energy (noun). A solid has a low amount of kinetic energy. A liquid has more kinetic energy. Like when the DJ has kicked up the bass. The liquid molecules are moving and having a dance party.

  IT WAS SATURDAY AFTERNOON, October 17, and our show was actually about to happen! Mentally, I went through the list of everything we needed. The stagehands and the props were in place. The actors waited backstage.

  Right now, it felt as if a dozen balls bounced in my stomach.

  The call time had been 12:30 p.m. (the time when the cast and the crew needed to arrive). At 2:00 p.m., the curtain would rise, and the show would officially begin.

  By 1:30 p.m. everyone was in costume and makeup. The house lights were up but not for much longer. Elijah and his crew had already performed their lighting check to make sure the equipment worked.

  I had gone through a prop checklist with the backstage crew.

  The scenery had been repositioned perfectly into place.

  The scripts were jammed in backpacks. Everyone today was really, really off-book.

  As the assistant director, I had to react quickly. But not panic.

  Still, I couldn’t stop worrying.

  I waved at Elijah and the crew running the lighting board.

  “Everyone, please gather on the stage,” said Mrs. Hansberry. Soon, a couple dozen kids grouped around us. “Whatever you do, keep plowing ahead,” she added. “If you need to, ad-lib until you get back on track.”

  “Yes,” I said. “And I’ve got the script right here. I’ll whisper a line if you forget. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll shout. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll march onstage.”

  “Fantastic,” said Mrs. Hansberry. “We have plan B, C, and D.”

  I glanced down at the prompt book with all the cues and technical notes for the show. Today, I shouldn’t have to call out any cues, but I knew exactly what I needed to do if I had to.

  “It’s time to get in a circle,” said Mrs. Hansberry. “This is a time-honored theater tradition.”

  The cast and crew made a big circle on the stage. “This, my friends, is a very special circle. I would like for you all to say the letters N-R-G.”

  “N-R-G,” we said.

  “Louder,” said Mrs. Hansberry.

  “N-R-G,” we said.

  “Now repeat it. Louder and faster.” We did until everyone broke into giggles as we realized we were all saying energy.

  “We are going to give energy,” continued Mrs. Hansberry. “Lots of it. Crew and cast alike. Now let’s gather tighter.” With our right arms crossed over our left arms, Mrs. Hansberry had us hold hands with people on either side. I was holding hands with Birdie on my right and Phoenix on my left.

  “We work as an ensemble to make a helping hand,” said Mrs. Hansberry. “And we need all of our fingers. Each of you contributes and together we are one group. There are no small parts. No small roles. It takes all of us coming together for this one-act musical to work.”

  Then she had us close our eyes and she gave energy to the person on the left by squeezing their hand and the energy was passed around from person to person. Nobody said a word.

  When everyone had finished, Mrs. Hansberry said, “Break a leg, everyone.” Then she had the cast and crew turn out of the circle by uncrossing their arms.

  “Curtain time is in twenty minutes. Prepare to turn down the house lights at my command. I’m opening up the doors. The audience will now be seated.” We scrambled into place as the sound of theatergoers filled the once empty theater.

  Somewhere in the audience sat my parents and Liam. I was too afraid to peek.

  If I listened really hard, I thought I could hear Liam’s raspy little voice.

  The cast and crew held their breath as we waited for the show to begin.

  And then the house lights went down.

  The curtain opened.

  Showtime!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CURTAIN CALL

  Conclusion (noun). Summarize the way your results support or contradict your original hypothesis. Like anytime you say, “Told you I was right!”

  UNBELIEVABLY, INCREDIBLY, the show went really well. Sure, there were a couple of slip-ups. One of the dragon’s tails came off. And a unicorn mane slipped sideways. And one of the doors wouldn’t open to a dragon’s cave.

  But the energy (or N-R-G) was great. Birdie remembered all of her dance steps and didn’t look at the other unicorns. Elijah’s lightning storm special effects were awesome. During the finale, the lead dragons breathed smoke out of their noses. The crowd went wild.

  My mom stood up in the first row. And my dad, Ms. Daly, and Liam. And the rest of the audience. The clapping was thunderous. There were whistles and cheers.

  As the cast took their bows, Mrs. Hansberry nudged me on the shoulder. “Go out onstage, Kate.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Very.” Mrs. Hansberry pushed me forward with the rest of the cast to take our final bow. Elijah flashed the spotlight right on me, which made me blink, but I couldn’t help grinning. I’m sure everyone could see my tonsils.

  Then Avery stepped out of the line of actors and toward the front of the stage. For a moment, I h
eld my breath. What was she up to?

  My stomach plummeted.

  “There’s a tradition in my dads’ theater of acknowledging the director with a bouquet of white roses,” said Avery. A stagehand hurried onstage and handed her the bouquet. “Mrs. Hansberry, could you please come onstage?”

  Mrs. Hansberry strolled onstage, with her clipboard still in her hand, and accepted the flowers. “We also have flowers for our accompanist, Mrs. Hagel.” Avery pointed to Mrs. Hagel, who waved from her upright piano. Then another stagehand scurried out and handed her a bouquet of yellow tulips.

  “And also for our assistant director,” said Avery, waving a bunch of Texas bluebonnets.

  I was shocked. I bowed again and accepted the bouquet. “Thanks!” My parents and Liam beamed. “And thank you for being the greatest cast and crew. The show was amazing!”

  “Yes, you children were wonderful,” said Mrs. Hansberry, gesturing at the crew with a sweep of her long arm. “We’re ever so thankful for all of our volunteers who helped with makeup, costumes, and set building. And parents, thank you for your patience. I know that many nights during our fall break were spent running lines at home and finding props. Thank you for lending me your marvelous children. Good night!” She threw out a kiss. And then Elijah made the lights blink as if we were at a disco. There was a burst of thundering applause until the house lights went back on.

  The show was over.

  Parents flooded the stage. Suddenly, everyone was taking photos and giving hugs.

  Liam brought me a silver Mylar balloon that said STAR SISTER.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “It was really good,” said Liam, waving the program with Birdie’s awesome unicorn on it.

  “It was fantastic,” said Mom. “I can’t believe how much you all accomplished in a week.”

  “The dragon smoke was so cool.” Liam tilted his head. “Was it real?”

  “Yes, Liam. Those were real dragons.”

  Liam threw back his head and laughed. “Ha-ha. You’re kidding. Those were Cheetos. I could smell them.”