Page 31 of Fundamentals of Chemistry

Second, the gag had to be discreet. It was important for Cooper to know that I was messing with him, but it was entirely another thing for the rest of the faculty or—God forbid—the students to find out what we were up to. My first priority was unquestionably teaching science, and nothing could get in the way of that.

Those restrictions aside, I still had nearly infinite options with which to antagonize Jack Cooper.

Monday morning, I started small. I put out two fresh, black markers, carefully labeled with custom stickers that I ordered over the weekend—for rectal use only. It felt so right—telling him exactly where he could put his markers.

But I didn’t stop there. I also set a decoy prank with the hope that he would use the rectal markers for a while before finding the stickers. While the first period students were working on their quiz, I carefully covered the surface of the desk from edge to edge with yellow post-it notes, and labeled them as a periodic table of elements, complete with the lanthanide and actinide groups at the bottom. It was a thing of beauty, if I did say so myself.

A little thrill skittered up my spine as I watched him advance toward the front of the room, only seconds from finding my masterpiece. I couldn’t stop the grin from taking over my face when his dark eyes met mine. He might not be amused by my antics, but I sure as hell was.

A smirk slid over his face, and I swore his eyes lit up with interest when they landed on the desk. Did he like it? Was this actually working? It couldn’t possibly be this easy. I couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed across my face as he took it all in.

“Very cute,” he murmured, low enough that only I could hear. “Looks like someone had a little too much free time.” Then he plopped his backpack right in the middle of the transition metals.

I choked back a gasp, but when his smirk turned smug, I knew he heard me.

It was physically painful to leave the room—it felt like running away, which I definitely wasn’t doing. He hadn’t won. He had been so focused on the decoy that he hadn’t spotted the real prank.

The post-its had been removed by the time I came back for third period, but the markers—and their rectal stickers—were still in the tray at the bottom of the white board. Success. I was a petty revenge queen.

To celebrate, I spent my time during the third period quiz merrily covering the desk with more post-its. This time, I used different colors to make a rainbow gradient from edge to edge, and the atomic symbols were drawn in bubble letters. If he liked cute, I would give him cute.

Since his next class wasn’t until fifth period, I didn’t get to see his reaction, but I could picture it. First his brow would furrow before relaxing into another amused smirk. Maybe he would even grin, or—gasp!—chuckle. Not that it mattered, since the post-its weren’t the real prank.

On Tuesday, the markers I had left Monday were gone, and I couldn’t contain my grin. I set out two new ones, carefully labeled with more for rectal use only stickers.

During my undergrad, I read a study that found that rats were more likely to press a bar if food was awarded sporadically rather than consistently. The unpredictability resulted in more obsessive thoughts. Cooper was my rat. I wanted to get in his head. I needed him thinking about me as much as I was thinking about him. I intended to lull him into a false sense of security while I spread out my jokes like Nutella on toast.

On Wednesday, I got to the classroom early to set another decoy prank before the students arrived. As expected, Tuesday’s markers were gone, and once again, I set out two more carefully labeled markers. At the rate we were going, I was going to need another pack from TJ by the end of the week, but I suspected she didn’t care. She hadn’t batted an eye when I requested stacks of printouts of the famous photo of Albert Einstein sticking out his tongue which had me wondering what other weird shit other teachers requested over the years.

But it also meant that Cooper had a growing stash of rectal markers, a thought which amused me to no end. I wondered how many he would take before he finally noticed the stickers. I had barely made a dent in my sticker supply, and I was in for the long haul.

Sitting in the desk chair, I pulled the printouts from my tote and arranged them into four equal stacks, before slipping each stack into one of the four drawers.

The last drawer was full of markers.

I stared for just a moment, trying to process what I was seeing, before I spiraled in manic giggles.

They were all here, every marker that Cooper had stolen from the room, safely tucked away, even the fucking yellow marker that started all this drama. He hadn’t been stealing them after all, just hiding them, and it had taken my dumb ass over a week to find his cache.

I’d assumed he was playing checkers while I had been playing chess, but it looked like he had been playing chess too. Or maybe not… half of the markers in the drawer sported a rectal use sticker.

What did this mean? Did this mean he was playing with me too, and not just being a dick? Or was I seeing something that wasn’t there. I thought I had seen a glimmer of amusement in his eyes when he saw the post-its, but maybe I had imagined that. Or maybe I hadn’t. It felt like he might be playing with me too.

The first students walked in, and I abruptly stopped my unhinged giggles. I dropped the final stack of Einsteins on top of the markers and slammed the drawer shut. Cooper would know I found them when he found the printouts later this morning. It was going to be so hard to focus on Fun Chem when all I wanted to do was confront him.

I was back in the room before the bell for the end of second period even finished ringing. As usual, Cooper was at the front of the room, erasing the whiteboard. I all but skipped up behind him, grinning with giddy anticipation.

His face was relaxed and neutral when he turned around. “Can I help you with something?”

This was not the reaction I was expecting. There was no hint of amusement, no knowing smirk. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he didn’t have any feelings toward me at all, even animosity.

“Um,” I fumbled, “I just wanted to see if you want to start planning the exam. It’s a little early, but we could get a jump on it.”

All he said was “sure” as he packed up his bag and strolled toward the door. Even cucumbers weren’t that cool.

My smile faded. He hadn’t found the Einsteins. Or he had, and he wasn’t playing with me after all. An unexpected and overwhelming feeling of disappointment washed over me like an ice bucket dumped over my head. I was wrong. I hated being wrong.

I dropped my bag on the desk and pulled open the bottom drawer that I knew hid the marker stash. Einstein was still there, but Cooper had drawn a spiky, bejeweled tiara on his head in yellow marker. My smile was back in a flash as I picked up the photo. A short note was scribbled on the back in the same thick ink.