Maggie directs our class play, but honestly, I think she is in over her head. She keeps screaming at everyone, pulling her hair, and complaining that we’re all blockheads.

Maybe I should talk to Maggie. I could show her the revisions I’ve made to the play. I’ve scribbled a few pages of notes, rewritten scenes, added some new ones, and eliminated others. I think I’ve made it a lot better.

A musical has three parts: the lyrics, the music, and the script. The script consists of all the parts that aren’t sung. I can’t fix the music or the lyrics, that’s not what I’m good at, but I can improve the script a lot. I have improved the script a lot.

For example, the Boston Tea Party wasn’t a tea party hosted by Martha Washington. So I took that scene out of the play. The Boston Tea Party was actually about a bunch of people throwing tea into Boston Harbor to protest taxes. I bet Kyle could write a good song about tea.

I also think we should completely eliminate scene number nine in the second act, in which Thomas Jefferson emails the Declaration of Independence to the British.

I don’t think it happened like that.

But I doubt Maggie would listen to me, anyway. She would just get mad and tell me to mind my own business. Kyle would be mad, too.

I don’t want to make trouble.

After all, I’m a colorless plant: unnoticed and unplucked.

So I keep my notes in my backpack, stay in my seat, and write a new story instead, a story that I can keep to myself. I call my new story “Soda, the Magical Disappearing Hamster.” But Soda quickly becomes an invisible rabbit. Eric, the hero of the story, is a shy, quiet kid who captures a rabbit in a field. He doesn’t realize he has actually captured a rabbit that can turn itself invisible. He arrives in class with a towel over a rabbit cage. All the kids in class gather around Eric as he removes the towel.

The cage is empty.

Confused, Eric opens the cage to look inside. The rabbit leaps out. It’s invisible, so nobody can see the creature as it runs around biting students, knocking things over, and eating a box of cupcakes one of the students brought for a birthday treat.

No one knows what’s happening until the rabbit briefly turns itself visible. Everyone yells at Eric to do something, so he lures the critter back into the cage with some lettuce from the turkey sandwich in his lunch bag.

Eric knew he shouldn’t have shared anything with the class. He should have kept quiet.

After school, Eric takes the rabbit back to the field and opens the cage to return it to the wild. “Get out of here!” he yells.

As he stands there, cage open, Eric hears a loud bull snorting from behind him. He spins around, but the field is empty. Still, the snorting grows louder and Eric sees the long grass being crushed beneath mighty invisible bull feet, coming closer and closer and closer until—

“No! That’s all wrong!” Maggie yells at Lizzie from the front of the classroom. I look up from my page. Adam, back from the principal’s office, jumps in and argues with Maggie. Things aren’t going very well. Maggie complains that the play is a complete mess.

“One if by sea,” says Eli, who is playing Paul Revere.

“It’s two if by sea!” yells Maggie. “Can’t anyone do anything right?”

Eli stomps away. So do Lizzie and Adam. Maggie stands by herself, her eyes red and puffy. I think she might cry.

I sigh and remove my script notes from my backpack. Something needs to be done, and not just with the script—with everything. The sets need to be set better, the acting needs to be acted better, and the costumes need to be created somehow, too.

I can’t do everything, but I can do my part. I take a deep breath. I consider approaching Maggie, but instead I turn around and slink toward Samantha, who is huddled with Giovanna in the back reading a magazine instead of creating the sets. I stop three times before I reach her. Each time I stop, I consider returning to my seat. But then I start walking again.

And then, somehow, I’ve crossed the room and am standing right next to Samantha. I didn’t even realize I had walked so far.

She looks up at me. “What do you want?” she asks, as if accusing me of something.

I wish I could disappear, like an invisible rabbit. What was I thinking? She’ll probably laugh at me. I should have kept my idea to myself. I should have remembered I’m a colorless plant. But it’s too late now, so I clear my throat and unlock my arms, clasped in front of me. I take a deep breath. “Um, so, this play. It’s sort of a disaster,” I say.

Samantha nods. “I’ve noticed.”

“Well, um, I have an idea, but I need your help.”

“My help?” she says. A small smile creeps onto her lips. Her eyes lock onto mine. “I’m just the person to ask. I specialize in helping. What can I do?”