“Okay,” Izzy croaked. Ms. Martinez moved on. One idea? thought Izzy. Sure, I do have one idea I feel strongly about and have something to say—in fact, shout—about. It’s the same idea I had before: Isn’t there ANY way I can get out of this class?
* * *
If Izzy was hoping for a calm time after Forensics, lunchtime was not it. The scene in the cafeteria was wild. Seventh and eighth graders recruiting for teams and clubs had taken over. They had taped labels to tables with the names of their clubs and teams. They stood on chairs shouting out encouragement to the sixth graders, saying, “Line up to sign up!” Members of the French Club wore paper berets and handed out French fries. Rock climbers demoed their gear, yoga clubbers twisted themselves into pretzels, and the volleyball team was tossing mini volleyballs to one another across the cafeteria. A few members of the Marching Band had set up in the corner and were playing and dancing to the Atom Middle School’s fight song, which was, of course, “The Electric Slide.”
Several teachers and Mr. Delmonico roamed the room keeping an eye on everybody. In the throng, Izzy spotted Charlie eating an energy bar and doing warm-up stretches with the track team at their table. Allie bounced from the Homecoming Committee table to the tables for Math Club, Pep Squad, Orchestra, Jazz Dance, and Chorus—far too many activities to handle. Although if any human being could do it, that person would be Allie, thought Izzy, watching her energetic friend.
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.”