So many moments, both big and small, make up a year. Beth Ain chronicles them all in this heartwarming novel in verse, perfect for back to school--no matter what that looks like!   It's a new school year, and Izzy Kline is having some feelings. There are plenty of reasons for the butterflies in her stomach to flap their wings. There’s a new girl in her class who might be a new best friend. The whole grade is performing Free to Be . . . You and Me —and Izzy really wants a starring role. And new changes at home are making Izzy feel like her family is falling apart. First-day jitters, new friends, an audition . . . How many butterfly problems can one kid take? " Beautiful and real. Once you've entered Izzy's head you won't want to leave.” – Wendy Mass , New York Times bestselling author of The Candymakers   "A heartwarming story about life’s happy moments, frightening flashes, and annoying boys.” – Elly Swartz, author of Finding Perfect "Captures the soap opera that is fourth grade with honesty, humor, and heart ." -- Kirby Larson , Newbery-Honor Wunning author of Hattie Big Sky   " Charming … Recommended for middle grade readers who are graduating to chapter books and in search of characters to love.” – Melanie Conklin, Kidliterati blog and author of Counting Thyme   " Bright and believable , just right for young middle graders." -- Kirkus Reviews   " Buoyant . Ain’s verse format is ideally suited to the novel’s examination of profound concepts while maintaining a lighthearted tone." – Booklist   "Izzy Kline takes readers through a year of vulnerability, self-searching, and triumph … Heartwarming." – Publishers Weekly   "A well-rounded portrait of a thoughtful and unique main character . Ain makes use of all a poet’s tools—repetition, rhythm, rhyme, distillation, silence, and ambiguity… The authenticity of Izzy’s voice demonstrates that fourth grade is fourth grade, no matter when.” – The Horn Book Beth Ain grew up in Allentown, Pennsylvania, where she and her best friend were free to finger-paint in the basement, and make plays, and get in and out of fights and hysterical fits of laughter, all to the soundtrack of Free to Be . . . You and Me. She is glad to have friends and family who encouraged her to be creative with her memories. She is the author of several books for children, including the Starring Jules series. She lives in Port Washington, New York, with her husband and two children. Visit her online at bethain.com. Summer Slide     While I am busy   swimming in pools and lakes,   roasting marshmallows on a stick,   singing camp songs with camp friends,   scratching the itchy bite in the middle of my back--   caterpillars are busy too.   Busy eating their way out of their cocoons   and into something else.   Something that   flutters   when I cartwheel   down the backyard hill,   when I ride my bike   down into the cul-­de-­sac,   skidding to a screech when the mail truck rolls up with those cards.   Room assignments, like anyone cares which room they happen to be in with that old,   yelling teacher and that brand-­new class of kids with only one person I used to like   for five minutes   in kindergarten.   Lilly, with two l’s   where there should be only one.   Used to like   until I had a playdate with her, and she cried the whole time and told me her toys   belonged to a superhero princess from Mars,   that she was just watching the stuff for a while,   TAKING VERY SPECIAL CARE of it,   that was why she could not share it with me.   It was a good one. Lilly with two l’s was clever   at least.   Anyway,   there were other friends to make   and not make   that year we moved here,   all those years ago.   But last week, when the mail truck rolled up   as I rolled   down,   that’s right about when the cocoon burst.   Right about when that VERY HUNGRY caterpillar became one VERY ANGRY butterfly or   else one million butterflies.   Making me--on that last night before fourth grade--   into a night owl,   something moms say when they talk about us to their friends.   Something they say that isn’t exactly the way it is.   I am a night butterfly.   Flitting around in my bed,   in my head,   all the way until 7:25 in the morning,   when the alarm clock, whose name is Mitchell   and who isn’t really an alarm clock   but who is a giant dog of the Saint Bernard variety,   licks my face.   Messy hair, rolled around and around in due to certain BUTTERFLY PROBLEMS,   messy hair   and shorts   and a tank top.   Summer doesn’t end when school starts.   Doesn’t end with the reading of that   room assignment card.   Something they don’t teach you at school.   You learn it on your own when it is too hot   to pretend to be nice to Lilly with two l’s.   Too hot to build a building out of marshmallows and very thin pretzel sticks,   and without talking.   An activity Mom will think   sounds like loads of fun when I see her later   and when she forces me to tell her   one inter