“Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.”
“Just go to the party. You can keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t have any fun.”
Ella looks up at me. “You think having you and your friends torture her is fun?”
“Why would we torture her? She didn’t do anything.”
“Neither did I and yet you won’t leave me alone.”
“Shit,” I say, noticing the stuff in the flask is boiling over. I grab it, forgetting about the hot glass and almost dropping it as I set it down. “Fuck!”
Ella laughs. “You deserve that.”
“Really?” I hold up my hand, showing her my fingers, which are already swelling up.
She stops laughing, concern covering her face. “Let me see.” She takes my hand, then lets it go and races to the front of the class, forgetting to take her backpack with her. She hurries back with the first aid kit.
“Set your hand down,” she orders, taking a small tube out of the first aid kit.
“What are you doing?” I ask, watching as she dabs gel from the tube onto each of my burned fingertips.
“It’ll take away some of the pain and reduce the swelling. You have to rub it in a little.”
“I’m good. Just leave it.”
“It won’t work sitting on top of the skin. You have to rub it in.”
“I’m not touching it. It hurts like hell.”
“Don’t be such a baby.” She grabs my hand and lightly rubs her finger over mine, which actually doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would, and the sting from the burn is starting to go away.
Why is she doing this? She hates me. Even my own mother wouldn’t do this. Growing up, she couldn’t deal with me getting sick or hurt. She said it made her queasy. She’d make the nanny deal with it.
I watch as Ella continues to care for each of my fingers, then gently sets my hand back on the table.
“You should put more on when you get home. It’s not blistering yet so it’s probably okay.”
“It’s fine,” I mutter, feeling uncomfortable that she did that. I’m also kind of angry. I’ve learned to feel nothing but hate for this girl, and it’s all I ever want to feel. She didn’t do anything to deserve that hate, but it doesn’t matter because it’s how I feel, and I refuse to feel differently.
“I’ll finish the lab.” She goes to get a new flask, then starts the experiment again, doing it correctly this time.
I move back, giving her space to work, but also wanting to get away from her so I can go back to hating her and get rid of the guilt I’m feeling for what I’ve done to her and am about to do.
When class ends, I get up and leave, not saying anything to her.
At the end of the day, I’m still feeling off and just want to go home and sleep. Maybe when I wake up, I’ll be back to feeling like myself again.
“Why didn’t you show up today?” Parker asks, catching up to me as I go to my car.
“What are you talking about?”
“You said to meet you outside the cafeteria. You weren’t fucking there.”
“Shit, I forgot. I went to the gym and worked out.”
“So what did you want?”
“Nothing. Just forget it.”
