Anna Staniszewski - Clique Here

T here are eleven days until seventh grade starts, and I am not letting myself freak out. Instead, I invite my best friend over for an emergency slime-making session. Nothing calms me down like, as Kat calls it, doing science.

Lincoln will definitely be better than Hemlock, I say for the fifth time that afternoon. Im totally making the right decision.

Kat looks up from her spot at my kitchen counter, where shes been sketching out ideas for her newest batch of food-inspired superheroes. Yes, Lily, she says with a groan.

Its bigger, it has a ton more clubs and sports teams, and its coed, I go on, pretty much reciting the presentation I gave my parents last spring when I was trying to convince them to let me change schools.

And most importantly, Kat chimes in, it does not have Queen Courtenay.

I nod. Shes right. But after years of being singled out by Courtenay Lyons and her minions at Hemlock Academy, a fresh start at Lincoln Middle School sounds too good to be true. A place where no one cares that I do science experiments for fun and that my family isnt rich and that Im nothing like my sister. A place where maybe I could even work up the courage to try out for soccer again.

What do you think? Kat asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. Should Tater Tot shoot ketchup out of his eyes or out of his fingers?

Why not his ears? I joke. It would be like he has tomato-y earwax.

Kat chuckles. Perfect! She hunches over her sketchbook again and starts drawing furiously, her rainbow-streaked black hair falling in her eyes.

You can always count on me for good ideas, I say.

I adjust the lime-green safety glasses that Kat got me for my twelfth birthday and grab a box of baking soda. Then I sprinkle a half teaspoon into the shaving cream, Elmers glue, and food coloring that I already combined in a bowl. That done, I squeeze in three tablespoons of my moms contact lens solutionIll have to remember to add it to the shopping list so I dont get in trouble for using so much againand mix everything together. The pale blue concoction slowly stops sticking to the bowl and starts sticking to itself. I lift the spatula and the slime squelches in a way thats vaguely gastrointestinal.

Kat scrunches her nose as she glances over at the bowl. That sounds so gross.

It sounds like chemistry. There is nothing more satisfying than combining ingredients and creating a whole new substance.

Just more proof that art is better than science, Kat says with a grin.

I snort. Keep dreaming!

This little argument has been going on between us for pretty much as long as weve been friends. Of course, at Hemlock Academy, neither art nor science is a winner. All that matters is being rich and pretty andjudging by Queen Courtenay100 percent pure evil.

I give the slime another stir. The new formula Im testing out seems frothier and less adhesive than ones Ive tried before. I pull my trusty notebook and combination pen/screwdriver/ruler/level out of my pocket and flip through my notes on past experiments. When I come to a clean page, I jot down the results.

Light footsteps echo on the stairs. A moment later, my older sister, Maisie, practically bounces into the kitchen. Shes wearing an outfit youd expect to see on a toddlera sparkly purple T-shirt and denim overallsand theres glitter sprinkled in her hair. On any other almost-high-school-freshman it would look ridiculous, but it perfectly fits her upbeat personality.

Hey, guys! she chirps. Then she spots my bowl. Uh-oh. Someones stressed out!

My sister knows me too well. Not stressed, exactly, I insist. Im just

Totally freaking out about changing schools, Kat cuts in.

Hey! I cry. Although maybe its a tiny bit true.

Aww, youll be fine, Maisie assures me. I know its weird for both of us to be leaving Hemlock, but we can start over together, okay?

Right, except that our situations are totally different. Im slinking off to public school with my tail tucked between my legs while Maisies practically riding off to St. Marys, her new private high school, on a parade float. Courtenay might be the feared queen of my grade, but Maisie has been the adored mayor of Hemlock Academy since we were little. I dont think her starting over is going to be quite the same as mine.

Besides, Maisie goes on, no one at Lincoln knows you. This is your chance to show them who you really are.

In that case, can I be Exploding Emma? I ask.

Kat shakes her head. I dont get why youre so obsessed with her. All she does is make stuff explode.

Who are you guys talking about? Maisie asks, her forehead crinkling.

Shes a YouTuber who does these cool chemistry videos, I explain. Shes only sixteen and already a total science celebrity. I would kill to be her.

Maisie smiles. Except youre you, she says, clearly not getting it. Then she peers into the bowl of slime. That looks great, but you know what it could use?

Kat and I look at each other. Glitter? we say in unison.

Totally! Maisie glances at her phone. Oops, gotta go. Im late meeting Ty for ice cream.

Which one is Ty again? I ask. My sister has so many friends that Ive been thinking of putting them into a spreadsheet to keep track.

I met him at one of Moms fundraisers last year, remember? He gave me his number, so weve kept in touch. Only my sister would go to a charity event and come home with a guys number.

Is it like a date? I ask.

Maisie laughs. I dont know! I mean, hes cute, but hes just fun to hang out with, you know? She slings her glittery bag over her shoulder. Want me to bring a scoop of chocolate Oreo home for you, Lil?

She really does know me too well. Absolutely!

You got it! Tell Mom and Dad Ill be back for dinner, okay? Then she rushes out of the house in a cloud of perfume and sparkles.

One day Im going to convince Maisie to donate her brain to science, I tell Kat. There has to be some mysterious chemical that makes her so amazingly cheerful and nice all the time.

Maybe its all the glitter, Kat says.

I snort with laughter as I scribble a reminder in my notebook: Research brain chemistry and happy hormones.

As I tuck my notebook away, I spot movement outside my kitchen window. Could it be? I squint toward the blue house three doors down, trying to get a better look. I can see the basketball hoop at the end of the driveway, but no ones using it.

Lily?

I almost drop my pen. What? I ask, pulling my eyes away from Parker Tanakas house.

Are you still stalking him? Kat asks.

No! Who?

Kat rolls her eyes. Why dont you just go talk to Parker?

No way! Remember what happened at the neighborhood block party last year?

So you froze up. No big deal, Kat says. I bet he doesnt even remember.

But froze up doesnt cover it. When Parker said hi to me at the snack table, instead of saying somethinganythingback to him, I stood there like a statue as my brain went into overdrive.