I rolled my pen across my knuckles, a small smile on my lips.
“May I have a volunteer?” Dr. Langford asked.
Out of twenty-four students, twenty hands went up.
Langford grinned. “I love your enthusiasm. You, sir,” he said, picking a student. “First lesson in my class: Never volunteer for anything.”
Everyone laughed as a student came up the aisle only to be loaded up with heavy chemistry textbooks. He plunked them down on our desks one at a time.
“All of the information contained in these extraordinarily heavy textbooks is also in your iPads,” Langford said. “But these are for you to take home in case of technological malfunctions…and ouricebreaking assignment today. Introduction, page three.”
I stiffened. Harper pulled her book toward her and opened it to the intro. I left my book untouched.
“Most everything we do in chemistry begins at the atomic level.” Langford gestured at the huge periodic table on one wall. “I thought it’d be fun to begin by examining how our understanding of atoms and molecules evolved over time. Please read the paragraph on the different atomic models as described by five different scientists.”
Shit, bollocks, fuck again.
“Your icebreaker assignment is to read how each scientist imagined atomic structure and then sketch a model based on their descriptions. Please label your work with a brief description.” Langford glanced at the wall clock. “You have ten minutes. Go.”
When I didn’t move, Harper glanced at me. “Ready?”
“Always.”
“You sure?” She offered a tight smile. “Tick tock, partner.”
Translation: Hurry the fuck up.
Feigning a bored sigh, I opened the book.
Day One. Let the games begin.
The paragraph was short, no more than four lines. I set about the arduous task of forcing my ADHD brain to stay focused on the letters, building them into words, and then building the words into sentences. The letters blurred and slid sideways, like fish beneath the water’s surface. I could catch their shape, but there weren’t enough of them to build meaning, so I gave up. I rested my cheek on my fist, pretending to nap while the tension in my gut coiled tight.
Like the rest of the class, Harper was done reading in moments. Every pair broke out in discussion.
“How do you want to split it up?” Harper asked. “Do you—Orion?”
“Hm?”
“We have only a few minutes. I’ll take Dalton and Thomson. You take Rutherford and Bohr. We’ll collab on Schrödinger.”
“How about you read the paragraph to me, and I sketch?”
“Why?”
“Perhaps because I like listening to your lovely voice?”
She shot me a withering stare, and I could feel that whatever little bit of something was between us—that little spark—would snuff out if I wasn’t careful.
“I’m a crack visualizer and can sketch like a pro,” I said. “You label.”
“That doesn’t give me much to do.”
“My handwriting is like that of a serial killer, and I don’t want to frighten you so early in our partnership.”
Another joke. Another shield. Another shot fired in my endless battle.
Harper looked about to protest. I clenched my jaw. “Tick tock,partner.”
