KA-BLAM!

Newton’s bickering with Rowan was cut short by smoke erupting from the beaker, billowing through the classroom.

She’d never experienced anything quite so fierce … until the clearing smoke revealed her teacher’s angry expression. Ms Bloom’s normally pale face was flushed red, her greying brown hair was a mess, her eyes were wild and her nostrils were flaring.

‘That does it!’ shouted Ms Bloom. ‘I’ve had just about enough of the two of you. Get out!’

Newton grimaced. Science was her favourite subject. She was good at it, and she wasn’t used to the science teacher being angry with her. Usually, Ms Bloom was praising her work, not shouting like this.

No, thought Newton, this isn’t fair.

‘I mean it,’ continued the teacher. ‘Get out of my classroom. You know where to go.’

Newton glared at Rowan.

Rowan glared at Newton.

Newton did not like Rowan. And she was pretty sure that he didn’t like her either. The two of them were so different, in every way imaginable, that their mutual dislike wasn’t a surprise to anyone – least of all Newton. As she glowered, her mind ticked over their differences.

She was tall, Rowan was short. She had long dark hair, always pulled back into a neat ponytail; Rowan’s hair was short, white-blond and unruly. (She wondered why he didn’t just use some product.) Rowan seemed to struggle at school, but she was a straight-A student. Her parents were university academics, Rowan’s were ex-hippies who owned the local organic food store. Rowan had been named after a tree, apparently; she after a scientist. Both had people shortening their names, but while she liked being called Newt, it was obvious from his reactions that Rowan hated Ro.

They did, however, seem to have one thing in common. Reading! Whenever Newt saw him, Rowan usually had his nose stuck in a book. While Newt loved reading (mostly science stuff), she was appalled by his obsession with what she thought of as trashy fantasy novels.

But, differences and similarities aside, it was their mutual dislike for each other that had led them to where they were now – outside the principal’s office.

‘It was your fault!’ said Newt.

‘What?’

‘You’re the one who added too much of Compound A to Solution B, causing it to blow up,’ said Newt.

‘Hang on,’ said Rowan. ‘I didn’t know how much to add because you wouldn’t tell me.’

‘You should have known,’ said Newt, ‘if you’d done the reading for homework like you were supposed to. But hey … it’s a book about science, so why would you read it?’

‘I did do the reading,’ said Rowan, looking away. ‘I just didn’t understand it. Which is why I asked you. But no … you wouldn’t tell me. You said I had to figure it out for myself. So this is actually your fault.’

‘Actually it’s probably the teacher’s fault,’ said Newt.

‘How do you figure that?’

‘Well, it was her idea that the two of us work together,’ she said. ‘She should have known better.’

‘You know … you like to blame other people a lot,’ said Rowan. ‘It’s always someone else’s fault. Never yours. It’s one of the things I hate about you.’

‘Better than being into magic,’ retorted Newt. She immediately realised how lame that comeback was, but now that she’d started, she felt she had to continue. ‘You do know that it’s not real? Yeah?’

‘I’m not into magic,’ Rowan said with a sigh. ‘I’m into reading fantasy books, like The Lord of the Rings and stuff. Fantasy! As in, not reality. It means, I have an imagination. Unlike –’

‘Attention!’

Startled, Newt and Rowan looked up at the owner of the annoyed voice.

‘Can the two of you ever stop arguing?’ The principal glared down at them. ‘Get into my office. Now!’

Newt swallowed hard.