“’Scuse me.” She spun around. She was holding the ends of a pair of black and orange streamers. “Pep rally decorations.” Her smile was blinding. “Go Oilers.” She said this with a shrug in her voice like she was partly making fun of herself.
Standing at the steps of the school, I was about to continue with my train of thought when I registered how his eyes were lingering on Cassidy as she pulled the streamers high over her head to wrap them around the top of a column, so that her pierced belly button peeked out the top of her jeans.
“Good morning, Cassidy Hyde,” Adam said, formal, flat, but strangely charming because of both those things. “Do you need help with that?” Adam walked over with his stiff gait. He took a pair of streamers from her and stretched up to tape them higher than she could reach.
She put her hands on her hips. “Well, look at that. I didn’t think they made real gentlemen anymore.”
I felt a scowl overtake my mouth. They didn’t, I wanted to tell her. I did.
*
“OUCH-GOSHDARNIT—DAMN!” MY FINGER sprung out from under the metal hot plate I was working to pry free from its base. I shook it and stuck the tip in my mouth while it stung.
“How are you still single?” The door to the chemistry lab swung closed behind Owen. He cocked his head as I continued sputtering jumbled curse words under my breath. “I mean, really, it’s an unsolvable paradox. You have such a sweet demeanor about you. That’s what I always say, anyway.” I removed my finger from my mouth and examined the broken nail left over. He strolled through the empty classroom to the lab table I was occupying near the back and paused at the sight of my project in progress. “Maybe a little light would help?” He moved for the switch.
“I didn’t want anyone to know I was in here,” I said sourly. Late afternoon light trickled in through the blinds, casting the classroom in shadowy gray. Trace smudges of dry erase marker covered the whiteboard where Ms. Dot had erased today’s notes, and the freshly wiped countertops smelled like antibacterial soap.
“You mean while you’re defacing school property?” Owen’s white T-shirt read Wikipedia is accurate.
“I mean while I’m working.” It was nearly five o’clock. Ms. Dot, my AP chemistry teacher, had collected her giant tote bag and stack of manila folders half an hour ago. I had keys to the lab and exactly twenty-five minutes before Adam would be finished with football practice. Even in my head, I couldn’t say it without a sneer. Football practice. Now, scattered around were crucible tongs, a base holder, boss heads, burette clamps, and a hot plate.
“Well, you’re doing a good job of that at least. I’ve been looking for you for thirty minutes,” he said, dropping his backpack on a nearby stool. “You might want to consider fixing the whole cell phone situation at some point.” I cringed at the thought of my phone splintered on the road and how it’d found its way back to me. Annoyed as I was about football and Adam’s sudden rise in popularity, the day had been pleasantly uneventful, and it almost felt as though phones and missing boys could slip into the background and disappear. “We’re living in the twenty-first century.” I decided not to deal with his cell phone comment.
Since I’d been unsuccessful in wrestling the hot plate away, I gripped the base in both hands and began beating it against the tabletop. Owen jerked and plugged his ears. “What are you doing?” His eyes were wide behind his lenses. I made several more noisy blows before he put his hand over my wrist. “Tor, stop!” I held the hot plate in midair before striking again. “Are you insane?”
“I’m trying to loosen it.” I clamped my tongue between my teeth and went to try for another blow, but Owen held me firm.
“Step away from the hot plate.” Like a cop disarming his suspect, he slowly extracted the piece of equipment from my grasp. I huffed but folded my hands in my lap. “Now speak in sentences,” he said. “What is it that you’re trying to do?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m trying to build this.” I reached into my bag for my composition book and flipped through the pages until I landed on the one I wanted. I shoved the notebook in his direction. On the open sheet of lined paper, I’d drawn a circle diagram with four smaller circles inside.
Owen squinted. “Which is…?”
I snatched the composition book back and frowned at the rudimentary drawing inside. “It doesn’t have a name yet.” I glanced sidelong at him. “Adam malfunctioned last night. He completely lost his energy, and his whole body started to shut down.” I shuddered. “I … had to do it again.”
Owen did that thing where he looked over his glasses and made me feel like a little kid in trouble. “Electrocute him?”
“A little,” I fibbed, exactly like a little kid. “Okay a lot.” I nodded. “He was going to die, though.”
Owen pushed his fingers into his hair and left it standing straight up. “He already is dead.”