Hi! My name is Dr. Kate Biberdorf, but most people call me Kate the Chemist. I perform explosive science experiments on national TV when I’m not in Austin, Texas, teaching chemistry classes. Besides being the best science in the entire world, chemistry is the study of energy and matter, and their interactions with each other. Like how I can use limes to power a calculator or liquid nitrogen to make a thundercloud! If you read The STEM Night Disaster carefully, you will see how Little Kate the Chemist uses chemistry to solve problems in her everyday life.
But remember, none of the experiments in this book should be done without the supervision of a trained professional! If you are looking for some fun, safe, at-home experiments, check out my companion book, Kate the Chemist: The Big Book of Experiments. (I’ve included one experiment from that book in the back of this one—how to make a lemon battery!)
And one more thing: Science is all about making predictions (or forming hypotheses), which you can do right now! Will Little Kate the Chemist and Birdie be able to use their science skills to save STEM Night? Let’s find out—it’s time for Kate the Chemist’s third adventure.
ALSO BY DR. KATE BIBERDORF
Kate the Chemist: The Big Book of Experiments
Kate the Chemist: Dragons vs. Unicorns
Kate the Chemist: The Great Escape
PHILOMEL BOOKS
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York
First published in the United States of America by Philomel,
an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2021.
Copyright © 2021 by Kate the Chemist, LLC.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
Ebook ISBN 9780593116623
Edited by Jill Santopolo.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
pid_prh_5.6.1_c0_r0
For Cheryl, Hillary, and Jill,
the three amazing women who helped me bring the Kate the Chemist series to life
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE: The Great Unknown Assembly
CHAPTER TWO: Misleading Evidence
CHAPTER THREE: Tickled Pink
CHAPTER FOUR: Bouncing Ideas
CHAPTER FIVE: Robotic Ideas
CHAPTER SIX: Power Up!
CHAPTER SEVEN: A Fruitful Search
CHAPTER EIGHT: Making Lemonade
CHAPTER NINE: The Sweet Spot
CHAPTER TEN: Something’s Really Up
CHAPTER ELEVEN: A Strawberry on Top
CHAPTER TWELVE: Focusing on the Positive
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Loops and Whorls
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: A Volt and a Jolt
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Starting from Square One
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Spilled Ink
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Seeking Solutions
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Almost Showtime!
CHAPTER NINETEEN: Partners in Crime
CHAPTER TWENTY: On Cloud Nine
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Measuring Results
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: The Responsible Party
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Together We’re Better
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: The Winning Team
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Reaching Out
CHAPTER ONE
The Great Unknown Assembly
Inference (noun). The process of drawing a conclusion based on evidence. Like if your little brother has cheeks full of crumbs, you can infer that he just ate the last cookie.
WAITING WAS TORTURE. The entire fifth grade sat in the auditorium. Any moment the administration was supposed to make a huge announcement. I bounced in my seat. I twirled my hair. I sucked in my cheeks.
“C’mon, Kate,” said Elijah Williams, one of my closest friends. “Tell us what’s going on.”
“I wish I knew.” I had to practically shout. All around us students were chatting and chairs were squeaking so loudly I could barely hear.
Birdie Bhatt studied the white cinder-block walls. “Maybe we’re going to paint a giant mural.” This didn’t surprise me. Birdie and I had been BFFs since kindergarten, and she was all about art.
Next to me, Memito Alvarez patted his middle. “I hope they’re going to announce a cooking club.”
“Doubtful.” Avery Cooper shook her head and her blonde braids swayed. “I think they’re going to make the cafeteria go completely green. My student council committee has already drawn up a proposal.”
“No plastic straws or paper napkins,” explained Phoenix Altman from the row in front of us. “And more options for vegetarians.”
“I’m fine as long as there are no Brussels sprouts.” Jeremy Rowe leaned back in his chair. “Bet you a dollar none of you are right,” he said, smirking.
“I haven’t guessed anything yet.” Elijah pointed in my direction. “I’m going to go with whatever Kate thinks. ’Cause of Mrs. Crawford.”
Of course, at that moment, it got quiet enough so everyone could hear Elijah. All the kids looked at me. Even the rows farther away.
That was because Mrs. Crawford happened to be the principal of Rosalind Franklin Elementary School. And she also happened to be my mother. But truly, I had no idea what was going on.
Ms. Gottfried, the librarian, who was our audio-visual guru, adjusted the height of a microphone in front of the stage area. A banner below the scoreboard read: Today is THE day!
“C’mon, Kate,” insisted Elijah. “Tell us what’s up.”
I wracked my brain. “I really don’t know.”
“What does your gut tell you?” Phoenix leaned forward, her parrot earrings swishing.
“That I’m super hungry,” joked Memito. “I only had one waffle for breakfast and it’s almost lunchtime.”
We all laughed.
“Just guess what you think is going to happen, Kate,” pleaded Elijah.
“Scientists don’t guess,” I said in my most patient voice. Elijah, who is my next-door neighbor, has heard me say this about a billion times before. “Guesses are often random.”
You see, I’m interested in science—chemistry, especially. Actually, strike that. I’m obsessed. Because chemistry is everything. It’s everywhere. It’s how your stomach breaks down the candy bar you’ve just inhaled. How laundry detergent scrubs the dirt off your socks. Why popcorn pops in your microwave and tastes so yummy.
Birdie gently poked me. “Then make a hypothesis.”
A hypothesis is an explanation that can be tested. I think about the most recent observations I’ve made surrounding the mystery at our school. Unfortunately, I haven’t had time to test out anything.
“I could make an inference.” I shrugged. “You know, come up with an idea based on evidence.”
Ms. Gottfried tapped the microphone. “Testing,” she said. “Testing, one. Two. Three.” The microphone wasn’t working. We could barely hear Ms. Gottfried’s voice from across the auditorium.
Kids whipped around to look up front. Some students in the back were getting squirmy. The chatter in the room grew louder.
Jeremy’s gaze followed the teachers scurrying up front with clipboards. “The assembly is going to start any second,” he said. “If you want to win the bet, you’ve got to make your predictions right now.”
“You mean, make an inference.” I grinned at him.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jeremy shrugged. “An inference, then.”
That got me thinking about all of the observations I had made in the past week. I definitely knew there was a mystery going on around school. And I was about to use my powers of observation to figure it out!
CHAPTER TWO
Misleading Evidence
Evidence (noun). In science, evidence is information, facts, or data that support a hypothesis or claim. Like when your little brother has cheeks full of chocolate crumbs, and the last brownie went missing—the evidence would be the chocolate crumbs.
THE CLUES TO THE MYSTERY at Rosalind Franklin Elementary were everywhere. I considered the evidence. First of all, there were new signs put up last week. As in actual signs.
In the library, a giant banner read: Be curious.
I ask so many questions, curious could be my middle name. Kate Curious Crawford. (My real middle name is Alexis, which I think sounds like a type of car.)
Next to the water fountain by the front office, a poster read: Are you ready?
I like to think I was born ready. At least, that’s what my soccer coach always says. But the truth is I’m more like just on time or even one to two minutes late, because I’m always trying to do one more thing before I have to leave.
By the lost and found closet, a banner read: Be positive.
Maybe this meant, Don’t worry. You probably didn’t lose your water bottle. Check the lost and found closet! I seriously hate to misplace anything. Once I lost a mitten and I searched for half a day by the pond. Luckily, I found it under a pine tree.
By the teacher’s lounge, a sign read: Have a growth mindset.
That doesn’t mean you’re supposed to suddenly sprout up like a mushroom. Mom loved to talk about this saying after she went to a conference last summer. She told me it meant you should be up for challenges and believe in hard work. My soccer coach says that good things come to those who sweat! I think it’s kind of the same thing.
I reviewed all of the signs. Be curious. Are you ready? Be positive and Have a growth mindset.
Aha! A pattern had emerged. I could see what all the messages had in common.
“I’ve come up with something,” I announced to my friends.
“Awesome!” Elijah drummed his hands on his chair.
“The anticipation is killing me,” moaned Memito.
“Based on the evidence.” I spread out my hands. “I think they’re going to announce a mindfulness assembly. So we can learn breathing exercises that teachers hope will calm us down in class.”
Memito pretended to snore. In the chair in front of him, Rory Workman cradled his head and also went, “Zzzzzzzz.”
“Hey, I like meditating. I do it with my uncle,” said Elijah.
“Sitting around and learning how to breathe, really?” Jeremy snort-laughed. “Kate, you’re going to lose the bet. All of you are going down.”
“Sorry, there’s a hitch in your bet plan.” I stared at Jeremy as he flicked his bangs with the dyed purple streak in them. “You never said what you think.”
“I don’t have to guess,” he huffed. “I’m betting you guys are wrong.”
My mother stepped up to the microphone and tapped it. The mic made a loud pop. “Good morning, fifth graders,” she said.
Jeremy and Rory continued talking.
“Zip it,” I blurted.
Oops! I hope the principal, aka my mom, didn’t hear me say zip it.
I try not to blurt stuff out.
But sometimes I can’t help it.
Mom held up her hand as if she were stopping traffic. “It’s time for our assembly.”
Immediately the room grew silent. “Look how quickly you were quiet,” she continued. “That’s amazing.”
Kids cheered.
“We have a super fun assembly planned for you today,” said Mom. “We’re going to be kicking off something new.”
“What is it?” called out Rory.
“You’ll see,” said Mom. “And here’s the person to tell you all about it.” She stepped away from the microphone.
Ms. Daly, the chemistry club advisor, burst out from behind the stage curtain. She wore a baseball cap over her short gray hair. The hat said chemists have all the solutions. Which was typical of her awesome corny humor.
In her arms, she carried a big blue bucket the size of a kindergartner. It wasn’t a bucket I recognized. Since I never miss a chemistry club meeting, I pretty much know all of the equipment in our school lab.
“What do you think is in there?” whispered Birdie. “Some kind of chemical?”
“Maybe,” I whispered back.
With a heave, Ms. Daly dumped the bucket upside down.
Ping-pong balls exploded out, hitting the floor with a series of clacking sounds. They rolled right up to our rows of chairs.
Rory reached so far to grab one that he fell off and his seat flipped up. Kids laughed and I had to hold back a gasp. Not because he fell. But because if anyone was going to have their seat flip up, it would have been Jeremy. Birdie and I scrambled to pick a couple of balls careening down the center aisle.
I scooped up a bright yellow one. In small writing, it read: STEM Night begins Nov. 20!
“STEM Night?” I whisper-shouted to Birdie. “Yes! Yes!”
“Kate guessed wrong,” sang out Jeremy. “And Memito, you were wrong too. And Birdie.”
“Quiet back there,” called out Ms. Daly.
“I’m never wrong,” said Memito.
Essh! I don’t like being wrong. But if science is involved, I’m kind of okay with it.
Ms. Daly began chanting, “One, two, three, eyes on me.”
“One, two, eyes on you,” we chanted back. It’s a thing we do at our school when a teacher needs to get our attention.
“For the first time ever, Rosalind Franklin Elementary School is going to have a community-wide STEM Night,” explained Ms. Daly. “There’s going to be hands-on science activities for families to do together, and a science project exhibit area open to fifth graders only.”
“Fifth graders? That’s us!” A huge smile spread across Elijah’s face. A ginormous one was on mine, too.
“The event will happen in three weeks,” continued Ms. Daly. “The science projects are mandatory and must include original experiments.”
Suddenly, Mrs. Eberlin, my fifth-grade teacher, and Mrs. Que, the other fifth grade teacher, waltzed up onstage. They both wore blue lab coats and goggles and were dancing to loud, happy music playing over the speakers.
“Yup, you guys are going to rock your science projects,” said Ms. Daly as our teachers continued to boogie. Kids laughed and clapped their hands in time to the music as Mrs. Eberlin twirled around Mrs. Que.
Ms. Daly raised her hands over her head. “Let’s hear it for science!”
We cheered. I yelled my head off. This was like a pep rally for science.
Projected on the wall above the stage, giant words appeared. They said: guess who’s coming.
“On STEM Night, someone special will visit Franklin Elementary,” said Ms. Daly. “And I’ve got to emphasize the word special.”
Who could it be?
“The next slide will reveal the answer,” Ms. Daly said. We all leaned forward, waiting.
CHAPTER THREE
Tickled Pink
Potassium iodide (noun). A white salt made up of crystals. It’s used in photography and the medical field. It turns yellow because it reacts with the oxygen and carbon dioxide in the air. I guess then you could call it mellow yellow.
THE SLIDE SHOWED A SCIENTIST in a hot pink lab coat, her arms raised in a champion salute. Her eyes shone behind pink goggles.
For a moment, there was a stunned silence.
I definitely recognized that lab coat. And those goggles.
“Dr. Caroline!” I shrieked, popping out of my seat.
Kids whispered and pointed at Dr. Caroline’s picture. Others stood up and cheered.
And I was cheering the loudest.
Dr. Caroline is my favorite scientist on YouTube. She does all of these really cool demos. My favorite is how she makes puking pumpkins using a solution of hydrogen peroxide and dish soap, just like we did with Ms. Daly at the Fall Festival this year. I learn something new every time I watch Dr. Caroline. With the puking pumpkins, I learned about catalysts, things that speed up a chemical reaction. In this case, the catalyst was potassium iodide. So cool!
I’ve watched all of the episodes on her channel at least a dozen times.
Okay, sometimes more. I’ve pretty much memorized them.
I’m pretty much her number one fan.
Suddenly, my mom headed back to the microphone with a really wide smile. “I have some wonderful news,” she trilled.
Hard to believe there could be anything more after this.
“Our school has won a special community grant, which is allowing us to fly Dr. Caroline here to judge the science projects and get you guys all fired up about science,” said Mom.
The STEM Night Disaster Page 1
