“I don’t know what that means, but I like the sound of it.” Mason glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Dr. Miliron, I think we have a successful experiment.”
Dr. Miliron danced his way across the lab and planted himself between Kathryn and me. Rubbing his hands together, he said, “Now observe the reflux condenser. That’s the key to this experiment. You’ll notice that the condensate progresses up the inner cylinder, then cascades back into the elixir, which, of course, is home to a chemical reaction that will alter the carbon chain.” He smiled and shook his head. “Once again, I get carried away.” He turned to me and winked. “We’re really only hydrolyzing lysergamides. A simple process, actually. Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. Go ahead and analyze this one, Mr. Draudimon.”
Dr. Miliron pranced over to the next experiment, whistling the Star Wars theme song.
“What did he say?” Kathryn asked me.
“We’re done boiling gookem puckey.”
“Ladies,” Mason said, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to show you the analytical tests we use.”
I faked a sweet smile and handed Mason my beaker.
Kathryn and I followed him to the other end of the lab where a heap of equipment sat blinking and flashing. I’m sure Dr. Miliron had a techno term for it, but to me, it was a silver and black doohickey with curly metal tubes. Next to it were shelves with sealed bottles labeled pass and rework. Much more mad scientist lab-ish.
“This,” Mason said, swishing his hand like a game show host, “is a gas chromatograph.”
“It has a name,” I said.
“It does.”
“Just a sec’.” Kathryn stepped close to Mason, took him by the face and tilted his head up, then sideways, like she was checking him for fleas.
“What are you doing?” Mason asked quietly.
Kathryn released his face. “You’re confusing me, Mason. You’re being nice. I thought maybe you had been replaced by an alien.”
“Sorry, it’s the real me.” Mason opened a drawer under the chromatohickey, pulled out a thin glass syringe with a long needle, and filled it with solution from my beaker.
His eye caught mine, and he smiled. “I fake being nice pretty well, don’t I?”
Half truthfully, I said, “You have your moments.”
“Do you like it?”
“Maybe.”
“Careful, it might become a habit.”
I’ll believe that when I see it.
Mason’s deep blue eyes sparkled, but behind them lay the pain I saw Friday night, and a tenderness I had never noticed before.
“It’s you, all right.” Kathryn suddenly shoved me behind her and dropped into what I could only assume was a fighting stance, although it looked more like SpongeBob doing the Jellyfish Jam. “Come near us with that needle and I’ll kick you so hard your mother will feel it.”
Mason looked hurt. “Hey, it’s me.”
“Hence my defensive posture,” Kathryn said.
“I told you she doesn’t like me,” Mason said to me.
“What’s to like?” Kathryn said, shuffling her feet, apparently adjusting her fighting stance. “You pick on skinny blonds who don’t stand a chance against you, you’re nasty to any teacher who hasn’t had the benefit of a doctoral dissertation, and you abuse smaller boys who are too polite to slam you into oblivion.”
Mason dropped his eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I get carried away when my friends let me down. I’ll talk to Bobby. And for the record? My mother’s dead. But she had no feelings when she was alive.”
For the first time since I had known Kathryn, she was totally speechless. She just shook her head slowly and stared at Mason. “I’m so sorry,” she finally whispered. “I didn’t know.”
“Nobody does,” Mason said. “Don’t worry about it. Hey, do you want to see how the chromatograph works? Watch, this is cool!” He stuck the syringe into the front of the machine, pushed a button, and it started to hum quietly. A narrow strip of paper with a jaggedy line emerged. Something beeped, and Mason ripped off the printout.
“Another good one, Dr. Miliron. Chromatogram looks excellent. These two ladies have perfect peaks.” He poured my experiment into a new bottle, sealed it and placed it on the shelf labeled pass.
Mason grinned at Kathryn, but the twinkle in his eye was gone. “It was a long time ago, and I’ve moved on.” He turned to me and the twinkle reappeared. “Rinnie, I would like you to consider donating some time after school to help continue this project. It would mean a lot to me, and it’s for a very good cause. Please think about it. For me.” Then he nudged me gently with his shoulder and went to the front of the lab. I stood in a mild state of shock, gaping at Mason as he glided to the next finished experiment.
Then I turned toward Kathryn. “Hey, what’s with the skinny blond crack?”
“Just covering your trail, girl. When he pulled the needle, I was afraid you might kick his wombat butt with one chromatogram tied behind your back.” Kathryn smiled. “I’m practicing to be a Whisperer.”
Chapter Seventeen
The Strange Nature of Gookem Puckey