Jaclyn Hyde Read online

  November 29

  The experiment is not going well.

  I administered the Perfection Potion to Mouse #1.

  Once inside the maze, the test subject changed dramatically in appearance.

  Test subject grew larger. Claws sharpened. Tail thickened. Fur became wiry. Eyes turned green. Test subject resembled a monstrous rat.

  Over the course of the experiment, test subject did not improve her performance in the maze as expected. She destroyed the maze entirely.

  Test subject escaped the lab and has not been seen since.

  However, I did find a large hole chewed through my snow boots.

  Note: Those were my only snow boots.

  Note: My feet are cold.

  December 13

  The experiment has gotten out of hand.

  I have administered the Perfection Potion to multiple mice. They all exhibited the same transformation. They’ve all become monstrous rats.

  With continued observation, I’ve witnessed an even more unexpected phenomenon. At first, the mice returned to their original physical forms, frequently changing from mouse to rat and back again.

  However, all of them eventually became trapped in their altered state. The change seems to be permanent.

  Jaclyn’s eyes widened. “What if Jackie comes back and . . . never leaves?!”

  “I don’t even want to think about that,” said Paige.

  “Wait, look!” Fatima said, pointing to a note at the bottom of the page.

  January 4

  It pains me to admit that the experiment has failed.

  Mouse #23 is the only test subject who has not escaped the lab.

  I have discovered that a repeat dosage of the Perfection Potion reverses all the effects.

  Mouse #23 has permanently returned to its original state.

  Note: I wish I had figured this out before the other test subjects ate all my shoes.

  Jaclyn was flooded with relief. “That’s it? I just have to take it again?” She smiled. She couldn’t believe it was so easy. She had a whole bottle full of the Perfection Potion sitting in her desk drawer at home.

  Fatima put her arm around Paige. “That, my friend, is what we call an antidote.”

  “Cool.” Paige nodded. “I still don’t get what a dote is, though.”

  Jaclyn, Paige, and Fatima bounded out of the house. They wanted to thank Henry, but he wasn’t outside anymore. They saw through the window of his cottage that he was sitting at a table set for one, looking longingly at the empty chair across from him.

  “Wow,” said Fatima. “He must really miss Mrs. Goodman.”

  He glanced up and saw the girls, then gave them a little wave. They waved back.

  “Come on,” said Jaclyn. “We’ve got enough time to go home and reverse the effects before the play starts!”

  They hopped on their bikes and pedaled as fast as they could to Jaclyn’s house. Jaclyn’s dad was sitting at his computer.

  “Hi, Dad!” Jaclyn said, running right past him.

  “Hi, Mr. H!” Paige and Fatima shouted as they whizzed by in a blur.

  Jaclyn ran into her bedroom, so excited that she nearly tripped over her own feet. When she opened her desk drawer, she felt like her stomach was being wrung out like a wet washcloth. The Perfection Potion was gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Fog Brain

  Jaclyn, Paige, and Fatima rushed down the stairs two at a time.

  “Dad!” Jaclyn shouted, skidding to a halt in front of him. “Were you in my room?”

  Dad swiveled his chair around to face her. “No. I’ve been down here all afternoon making this.” He showed her a T-shirt that said Proud Dad of the World’s Best Understudy. “I can’t wait for the show tonight.”

  Jaclyn’s face flushed. “Dad, you don’t have to come. I’m just the understudy.”

  “The world’s best understudy!” he corrected her. “I’m going to get a seat all the way to the side, so I can try to see you backstage. And Paige, I hear you’re great as the tree!”

  “I’m still working on my line,” said Paige. “What is it again?”

  “‘It sure is foggy out,’” Fatima told her for the hundredth time.

  “It sure is,” Jaclyn’s mom said, walking through the front door. She hung her coat up on the hook. “Girls, shouldn’t you be getting ready for the musical?”

  “Mom, did you go in my room?” Jaclyn asked.

  “No, and frankly there’s still an odd smell coming from in there. I think you should give Charles’s cage another scrub. Now, are you all set for the big show tonight?”

  “Yes, Mom, but listen—”

  “You know all your lines, right? And all the dance steps? And every note to every song? Just in case.”

  Finally, Jaclyn couldn’t take it anymore. “So nobody was in my room?!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

  Jaclyn’s dad blinked at her a few times. “Well, your science fair partner. What’s his name? Shawn?”

  Fatima’s scowled. “Shane?”

  “That’s right. Shane. He was just here. He said he had to pick up something for the project. He’s a very polite young man.”

  “I didn’t know you had another science fair partner,” said Mom.

  “We don’t,” said Paige.

  A look of panic crossed Jaclyn’s face. “We’ve got to go!”

  As they ran out the door, Dad called after them, “See you at the show!”

  The girls took off on their bikes as fast as they could go. Shane lived at the end of Paige’s street in a house with a big tree in the front yard. It was a cherry tree, a fact that Jaclyn knew all too well because when she went over to Paige’s house, she’d often have to ride by while Shane hid in the branches and pelted her with sour cherries. It was as good a reason as any to wear a helmet while biking.

  “Let’s take the shortcut,” Paige called out, turning into the Fog Island Orchard.

  “I hope we can find him,” Jaclyn said, trying to keep her tires steady on the dirt path.

  “Oh, we’ll find him,” Fatima snarled, “and when we do, his brace-face better brace for my fist!”

  “How did he know about the potion?” said Jaclyn.

  “He must have been snooping on us during lunch. The little weasel!” Fatima said, weaving through a row of apple trees. “Scratch that. That’s an insult to weasels!”

  Paige was already biking out of the other side of the orchard. As Jaclyn tried to keep up, she looked over her shoulder toward the fenced-off area where she had picked the rotten apples. She saw something that made her slam on the brakes of her bike. The tree was ripped out of the ground. It was laid next to a tractor, its roots dried and frayed. Jaclyn remembered how she’d suggested to the woman in the apple vest that they dig the tree up at the roots. Apparently, they had taken her advice. She kicked herself for saying anything at all. Now, she could never make more Perfection Potion. She had to get it back from Shane. She gripped her handlebars tight and caught up to Paige and Fatima.

  They popped out of the orchard and turned onto Paige’s street. They looked around. There was no sign of Shane.

  “Oh, no—we missed him,” said Jaclyn.

  But just then, Shane turned the corner. The Perfection Potion was in the water-bottle holder of his bike, the dark-blue liquid sloshing around as he rode. When he saw the girls, he braked so hard he nearly tipped over.

  “We’ve got you now, you human wart!” Fatima shouted.

  “Oh, yeah?” Shane said, turning his bike around. “Come and get me!” He sped off in the opposite direction, the thick fog engulfing him almost immediately.

  “Challenge accepted!” yelled Paige. She pedaled off after him at full speed.

  “Oh, great.” Fatima groaned, clutching her side. “I was really hoping the exercise portion of this day was over.”

  They raced through town with Shane in the lead, Paige in the middle, and Jaclyn and Fatima bringing up the rear. As they got to the town square, Paige n
early caught up to him. She reached out to grab the potion, while still pedaling at full speed. At the last second, Shane swerved, sending Paige off balance. She crashed into the gazebo in the middle of the square. Shane biked off into the distance.

  Fatima and Jaclyn caught up to Paige.

  “Are you okay?” said Jaclyn.

  “Yeah, it was nothing,” Paige said, brushing herself off. “Come on. He’s heading toward the Foggy Woods.”

  “Wait, Foggy Wood or the Foggy Woods?” said Jaclyn.

  Foggy Wood was the local lumberyard. The Foggy Woods was the creepy forest on the outskirts of town.

  “The Foggy Woods!” Paige shouted in frustration. “Why does everything on this Island have to be named after fog?”

  Fatima explained, “Because when the founders landed here, all they could see was fog. It really limited their creativity. They called it ‘fog brain.’”

  The girls rode to the edge of the Foggy Woods. They slowed down as they entered the forest. Centuries-old trees towered over them, the trunks covered in knots that looked like wooden eyeballs. The dense leaves blocked out nearly all the light from the sky. Green stringy moss hung from the branches like the trees had runny noses. They biked forward as quietly as they could, listening for any sign of Shane. A gray squirrel darted along the ground, and the girls jumped at the rustling sound.

  They reached a fork in the road. Jaclyn looked at the two paths, each swallowed by fog. One path went up to Fog Point, a crag of rocks at the edge of the wood that jutted out high above the ocean. The other path wound down to Pogwilly Beach.

  “Which way?” said Fatima.

  Jaclyn sighed. “I have no idea.”

  Paige shuddered. “This place is so creepy.”

  “It’s not creepy. It’s just foggy,” said Fatima.

  “Look! There’s blue goo coming out of the trees!” Paige said, pointing to a tree on their left.

  “What are you talking about?” said Fatima.

  Jaclyn walked over to the tree. There was something bright blue on the trunk. But it wasn’t coming from the tree. It was stuck on the tree.

  “It’s his gum,” said Jaclyn.

  “He’s got to be this way. Let’s go,” said Paige.

  They tore off as fast as they could, but biking up a steep hill wasn’t easy.

  “Why did he have to go the uphill way?” Fatima called from behind.

  Finally, the ground leveled off. They picked up speed until they reached Fog Point and skidded to a stop.

  Shane was standing at the edge of the rocks, holding the Perfection Potion. He was surrounded on three sides by sheer cliff. Far below, the icy gray waves churned and smashed against the rock wall.

  They skidded to a stop.

  “Don’t come any closer!” he said, dangling the bottle over the cliff.

  Jaclyn got off her bike. “Shane, please. Give it back.”

  “Pretty please, Shane?” he mimicked. “Not so perfect without your precious perfect juice, are you, Jaclyn Hyde? I knew you were a fake. All this time, everyone thought you were so amazing. Ever since kindergarten when you could say your ABC’s forward and backward.”

  Paige leaned over to Fatima. “There’s a backward version?”

  Shane continued, “When I heard you at lunch talking about your little potion, it all made sense. You’re a cheat and a liar. You always have been.”

  “You don’t understand,” said Jaclyn.

  “No, you don’t understand!” he shouted back, startling all three of them. “Every teacher on this godforsaken island is always bugging me.” He took on a high-pitched whiny voice. “‘Would Jaclyn do that?’ ‘Take a page out of Jaclyn’s book!’ ‘Why can’t you be more like Jaclyn Hyde?’” He kicked a rock, and it tumbled off the edge of the cliff. “I’m sick of it.”

  Fatima put her hands on her hips. “What’s your plan here, Shane? We’ve got you surrounded.”

  “My plan?” He shook the bottle. “I’m going to be the perfect one now. Get ready, Jaclyn. Before you know it, everyone is going to be asking you why you can’t be more like that perfect Shane Zeigler!” He grinned widely.

  Just as he was about to open the bottle, Jaclyn blurted out, “It’s not going to work.”

  “Why? Because I’m just so imperfect that perfect juice won’t work on me?” he scoffed.

  “No!” Jaclyn shouted. “Because it’s a complex scientific formula that requires precise preparation. You can’t just drink it. You have to heat it up to exactly one hundred and sixty-eight degrees. You need a Bunsen burner. You need a thermometer. Did you think any of this through?!”

  Shane stared at her, bewildered. Then his eyes cast down to the ground and his face twisted into a furious scowl. “Stupid . . . stupid . . . stupid . . . ,” he muttered. He smacked his own forehead. “You are so stupid.”

  Jaclyn’s face softened. “Shane, stop.”

  “No. Everybody says that I’m dumb. That I always mess everything up. My teachers, my parents, even my little brother. And I guess they’re right.”

  “Come on, Shane, that’s not true,” said Jaclyn, taking a step toward him.

  “Don’t act all nice now. It’s your fault.”

  Jaclyn’s mouth fell open. “How is it my fault?”

  “Everyone has treated me like a screw-up ever since the day you told them I broke your stupid flamingo.”

  “You did break my flamingo. And it wasn’t stupid!”

  Shane grimaced. “Whatever you say, Jaclyn. I guess I’ll never be perfect. But now . . . neither will you.”

  He tossed the bottle off the cliff.

  “NO!” Jaclyn, Fatima, and Paige screamed. They ran to the edge and watched it plummet all the way down until it landed in the frothy waves.

  Shane brushed past them and got on his bike. “Don’t be late for the musical, losers.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The Moose Is Loose

  The last of the Perfection Potion was gone. Jaclyn wished she could go home to her chemistry set and make more, but the tree had been uprooted. There were no more rotten apples. She had no choice but go to the musical and hope that Jackie wouldn’t show up. And if she did, Jaclyn worried that she might never turn back into herself. Dr. Enfield wrote in his notebook that all the lab mice eventually became trapped in their altered states. The thought of becoming Jackie forever was almost too much to bear.

  From the backstage of the theater, Jaclyn peeked through the curtain. The auditorium was filling up with people. Parents settled younger siblings into their seats. Grandparents readied their cameras. She spotted her mom and dad all the way at the far end of the front row, her dad sporting his homemade T-shirt. Sitting in the center of the front row was Miss Carver. She had a pair of small opera glasses around her neck. She always brought her opera glasses to the student productions, as well as every sporting event, so she could better spot the mistakes.

  “Five minutes until places. Everybody circle up,” Mr. Collins announced. The cast and crew gathered in a circle backstage. Jaclyn stood next to Marina. They were dressed in the exact same costume, the red checkered pioneer dress. Even with all her other problems, Jaclyn couldn’t help but feel jealous that Marina was going to be the only Penny Pogwilly onstage. Fatima stepped in the circle next to Jaclyn, and Paige squeezed in next to Fatima, though it was hard for her to find room with all the leaves sticking out of her arms and legs. Shane skulked over, making sure to stand as far away from the girls as possible.

  Mr. Collins began his pep talk. “Okay, my little Fog Islanders, tonight is the big night. You all have worked your foggy little bottoms off for this, and I just know it’s going to go off without a hitch. Except for the part when we hitch a wagon to the Fog Island Ferry. That’s on you, Zeke.”

  “Got it!” Zeke Trimble piped up.

  “I’d like to give a special shout-out to my coplaywright, Fatima Ali. Without you, Fog Island: The Musical wouldn’t exist.”

  Everyone in the circle clapped.

&
nbsp; Fatima gave a humble nod. “Well, Mr. Collins, without your songs, Fog Island: The Musical would just be Fog Island: The Factually Accurate Play.”

  “Thank you for saying that.” Mr. Collins clasped his hands together. “I do have one more creative suggestion—”

  “Oh, no . . . ,” Fatima said under her breath.

  “Have you considered changing the title to Fog Island: The Moose-ical?” He held up the moose costume, his eyes full of hope.

  Fatima clenched her fists. “Mr. Collins, for the last time, there are no moose on Fog Island.”

  “Fine, fine. I had to try. It’s just such a great costume.” He put the costume down. “And one more thing,” he said, his tone becoming much more serious. “Miss Carver will be watching our every move tonight, so make sure you do everything as we rehearsed it. No—better than we rehearsed it. Darcy, make sure the sound cues are timed exactly right. Miss Carver isn’t going to cut you any slack just because it’s your birthday.”

  “You got it, Mr. Collins,” said Darcy.

  “And Ryan, run the lights just like we planned. I don’t want any artistic interpretations.”

  Ryan brushed his sandy hair away from his eyes. “The stage is my canvas and the lights are my paint,” he said softly.

  Mr. Collins looked a little concerned, but he pressed forward. “Shane, you’re on the fog machine, so . . . well, I guess it’s not a big deal if the fog isn’t perfect. Just try not to mess up too much.”

  Jaclyn looked over at Shane. Instead of his usual smirk, he cast his eyes to the ground, his shoulders slumped. “Okay, Mr. Collins,” he said quietly.

  “All right, everybody, hands in!” said Mr. Collins. Everybody put their hands in the middle. Paige laid a branch-covered hand on top of the pile. “One-two-three . . .”

  “Fog Island: The Musical!” the students all cheered at roughly the same time. Then they scampered off to their places. Paige went off to the corner to practice her one line.

  Fatima walked over to Jaclyn. “Are you okay?”

  Jaclyn forced a smile. “Yup. I’ve got everything under control. I’m just going to be the perfect understudy and stay right here in case anyone needs me. I might even get some work done on our science fair project during intermission. I still need to reformulate the lava so it doesn’t explode everywhere.”