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“No,” I bite. “No. His mom married my dad.”
“Oh, cool. I saw those pictures of you. But seriously, who fucking cares? You’d think we’re still in middle school with all the drama people create. My girlfriend, Samantha, used to date Elijah freshmen year. Before she realized men weren’t exactly her taste.” Elizabeth smirks.
I hope it’s not the Samantha I met at the bar the night Derek attacked me. There’s no way this part of St. Paul is that small, though.
“You’d be surprised how little growing up people actually do here,” I say.
Today is lab day, which is surprisingly fun. The professor always has us do cute little kid experiments to give us a break from the heavy lecture, but also practice our work. Today, we’re learning how to extract DNA from various fruits. The professor gives us the materials, but doesn’t tell us what to do. She says it helps get our minds working in the right gear.
She plops down mushy strawberries, a cheesecloth, an Erlenmeyer flask, a graduated cylinder, sodium nitrate, test tubes, funnels, dish soap and isopropanol.
Elizabeth inspects each piece and looks at the strawberries without touching them directly. From her perspective, I can see how lab experiments are a bit like working with an engine. It’s tedious and changes according to the car or the science. She touches the bottle of isopropanol and gasps. “It’s really cold, that’s a clue.” She pulls out a piece of paper, scribbling down some notes of the supplies and testing.
I line up the supplies in a row and pull out the strawberries using long forceps.
“Wait,” Elizabeth says, “crush them first. I think we need to make them into a liquid.”
I look around the room and don’t see anyone else crushing the strawberries. But it’s not like we’ll get reprimanded, since this class technically doesn’t grade lab. I place the strawberries back in the bag they came in and she squishes them to a pulp.
“How do you know what to do?” I ask.
“I’ve done something similar in high school. Or maybe I’m just smart.” She raises her eyebrow suggestively.
“I don’t doubt that,” I say.
She pours the liquid mixture into the cylinder and filters it with the cheesecloth into the Erlenmeyer flask.
The professor walks up to Elizabeth and watches her process of extracting the DNA from the mushy—now liquid—berries. We are both in awe of how fast she works. The professor places a crystalizing dish in front of her and stands back with a wide smile on her face.
Ten minutes pass, and I’m just following Elizabeth’s instructions until we have a white foamy layer forming on top of the red juice.
“DNA,” she says, handing it to me. “Careful not to mix.”
“Duh,” I say, having no idea what I’m holding at this point.
Class hits the thirty-minute mark by the time Elizabeth is completely done. The professor lets us out early and the rest of the class watches in envy. Looks like I chose the perfect partner after all.
She stops me outside of class. “Hey, if you ever want to hang out, just let me know.”
She says it with a bit of pity in her voice, but I can’t explain why. My stomach growls but I still have another class after this one before my break. I can probably run home really quick with this extra thirty minutes between classes.
“Thanks. Uh, you too! I’ll see you tomorrow, K?”
She watches as I stumble off in a hurry, eager to get to my car and eat some lunch with King. Dad has pizza from the weekend still in the fridge that’s calling my name.
I pass by Elijah in the parking lot standing by his Jeep. He always gets the front row parking for being a stupid hockey player. He throws the middle finger as I walk by, and I stick my tongue out at him. My heart flutters for some stupid reason.
At least I know I’ll have some privacy when I get home. I get to my car; it barely starts up. I can feel the heat struggling to increase in the chilly interior. Luckily, it roars to life but stalls for a second as I leave the parking lot onto the main road.
As I approach the hill, my car shifts gears before it’s ready and I can see smoke coming from the engine. Fuck.
I pull it over onto the side of the road, barely in time to make way for cars coming behind me. I can still see the campus clearly from my spot on the side of the road.
“Fuck!” I yell. A car pulls up behind me and a girl gets out with a cigarette in her hand.
Samantha? Fuck me.
“Hey girlie,” she says, flicking the butt. “Need a ride?”
