ARIANNE ENTERED THE KITCHEN one muggy October morning to find her father still sitting at the breakfast table. She stopped by the swinging door and raised her eyebrows until they touched her fiery bangs. He sat there in his suit, reading the sports section, contentment in the set of his shoulders. His brown hair gleamed with touches of gold brought by the sunlight sneaking in from the window.
“You’re still here?” She hid the surprise in her voice well. Or so she had thought when she walked to the fridge.
“Good morning to you too, Daughter,” her father barked, not taking his eyes off the paper.
She flinched before opening the fridge to grab the orange juice. “That’s not what I meant.” The snap of a page being flipped almost made her drop the carton.
“Huge pile-up on I-75. I called work and said I’d be late.”
“What about the 85? I’m sure that’s still free. What are the odds of an accident happening there too?” She took a glass from the dishwasher as if her father’s irritation didn’t poke at her between her shoulder blades.
“Larger than you’d think.”
“There’s an accident on the 85 too?” She smirked.
“No, there isn’t. Why are you intent on spoiling my morning?” he whined.
Arianne poured herself some juice and took a sip before she kissed him on the cheek and plopped down on a chair at his side.
“Lazy bones,” she said in imitation of her mother.
“I’m entitled to a morning off once in a while, aren’t I?” He tugged at a ribbon of her hair.
She rolled her eyes. “Of course you are.”
“Let’s keep this to ourselves, shall we?”
“I take it you’re only this brave because Mom spent the night at Saint Joseph’s again.” She snatched the untouched toast from his plate and bit into it, chewing merrily.
“They’re waiting for news on a possible donor.”
“Still no luck?”
He dropped his gaze like a hot potato.
She stood up and hugged him. “Oh, Daddy, something’ll turn up, you’ll see.”
“Where do you get all this optimism from?” He gave her a squeeze before breaking the contact.
Arianne smiled. “Carrie,” she said.
A sheen of unshed tears surfaced in his eyes. “How did I get so lucky being surrounded by such strong women?”
“You just are.” She glanced at the wall clock. “Gotta go.”
“You visiting this afternoon?” he asked just before she left through the back door.
Arianne glanced at him over her shoulder, a wicked twinkle in her eye. “I’d like to see anyone try and stop me.”
For every step Arianne took to the bus stop, she prayed no lives were lost on I-75. Then, feeling no shame at all, she sent out a prayer for a donor. She blinked away the onset of sadness. As much as anyone in her family, maybe even more, Arianne wanted her sister healthy. “She’ll be fine,” became her daily mantra. If she could have shirts printed out with those words on them, she would, but the printers required at least a hundred pieces per order. Arianne didn’t have that many friends.
She kept her eyes on the sidewalk until she passed the Fletchers’ bungalow. On its freshly watered lawn stood a naked man, facing the house. His ashen pallor made Arianne pause a moment. She rubbed her chest to ease some of the tightness she normally felt when she encountered one of them. The man glanced to the right, as if someone had called to him. When Arianne blinked, he was gone. She said a silent prayer for him and for those he’d left behind.
Resuming her walk, she spotted Ben—in his slacks, button-up shirt, Braves cap, and Converse—using the bus stop sign to keep upright. He had his head bowed and his eyes closed, barely staying vertical. Arianne laughed. When he didn’t need to be fully awake, he stayed in what she thought of as a functioning hibernation mode.
“Hey, sleepy,” she greeted loudly.
Ben groaned. “Too early,” he grumbled.
Arianne cooed, “Oh, I know, I know.” She slipped her arms around his waist. “Bad mornings, bad!”
He snaked his arm around her shoulders and transferred all his weight onto her until her knees buckled.
“I may be sleepy,” he murmured, “but I do know when I’m being patronized.”
Seconds later, the school bus screeched to a stop and the door slid open.
“Come on, you two,” the driver called, waving them up.
“Get on the bus, you big lug.” Arianne yanked Ben as hard as she could. He stumbled forward, eyes shuttered, shoulders slumped. His bag took up the rear.
A typical scene, their schoolmates paid no attention to the proceedings.
They found a seat in the middle, and Arianne slid in by the window. The forward momentum of the vehicle had Ben falling in beside her. A second later, he had his head on her shoulder, already dozing off. Arianne sighed, resting her chin on the heel of her palm. She watched the world pass her by.
Two stops later, Arianne straightened slowly, trying not to jostle Ben. She stared at the front of the bus intently as it made a left onto an all too familiar street. Her heart leapt into her throat, beating there, making it hard to breathe, let alone swallow. She dried her palms on her jean-covered thighs.
And like in those cheesy shampoo commercials, everything stopped the moment Nikolas Clark climbed on the bus, including Arianne’s heart. He made a black T-shirt, ragged Levi’s, and scuffed Docs unintentionally cool. His sable hair, combed to perfection, kissed his brow and nape lightly. What she wouldn’t give to be a single strand among those locks. And those bottomless midnight eyes pierced everything in their path as they scanned for an empty seat. After spotting one toward the back, he glided as sure-footed as any cat.
Restarting her heart with imaginary defibrillators, Arianne had to force herself not to twist around. Ben’s heavy head on her shoulder anchored her. If she moved, he’d wake up and get snippy.
It’s not like I won’t see Niko again in chem, she reminded herself, ignoring the fact that she sounded like a deranged stalker in her head.
Minutes later, heart safely pumping blood again, Arianne waited for the bus to pull into Blackwood High’s parking lot. When it stopped, a blush blanketed her cheeks as her gaze chased Niko from the bus, across the blacktop, all the way to the main entrance where he exchanged pleasantries with a girl who kept her auburn hair in a severe bob. The girl—in her cardigan and pleated skirt—began speaking animatedly. Niko inclined his head and listened, his expression obscured with his back to Arianne.
Frustrated, she nudged Ben harder than usual. “We’re here,” she yelled.
Ben jerked awake and hit his head on the seat in front of him. “Ow! A little warning would have been nice.” He rubbed his forehead.
“I thought the squeal of the bus stopping was the warning.” She grabbed her bag and pushed him off the seat. “Move it before the bell rings.”
“Well, aren’t we bossy this morning?” Ben frowned as he slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the front of the bus.
“I just don’t want to be late, okay?” Arianne trailed after him.
“This mood, by any chance, has nothing to do with Darla Masters, does it?” Ben pointed to the front doors, where Darla and Niko stood—still engaged in conversation.
“Will you stop that,” Arianne said, yanking Ben’s arm down.
“The arm’s attached, you know. Seriously—” Ben adjusted his baseball cap “—it’s not like they’re dating. Why don’t you just ask Niko out and be done with it?”
“Are you crazy?” Arianne glared at her friend. “Do you know what happened to the last person who got in Darla’s way?”
Ben shook his head. To his credit, he didn’t let her glare cow him into submission.
“My point exactly.” She stomped away. Whether in advance or retreat, she couldn’t quite tell.
Books tumbled out of her locker one after the other, making friends with the newly polished floor. Arianne could only stare in disbelief at the situation. Fishing line, almost invisible to the naked eye, was tethered from the inside of her locker to the door. When she punched in the combination and opened it, the line went taut and spilled everything.
Childish, she thought as she bent down, attempting to make sense of the mess.
A pale hand reached for her American history textbook and handed it to Arianne. She glanced sideways and smiled, the line of her lips short and tight. The boy that kneeled by her side rolled his eyes at her from behind thickly-framed glasses.
“The ‘pull and puke,’ huh?” he asked.
Arianne’s sigh finally broke free. “I know, right? It’s so seventh grade.” She stacked her loose notes and tapped them on the floor.
“I guess it never gets old.”
“Thanks, Wes.”
French-manicured nails clamped onto the boy’s ear and pulled hard until Wes was on his feet. He said “ow” repeatedly and grabbed at the hand attempting to separate the appendage from his head.
“What are you doing?” The question, hissed like steam pushing out of a kettle, made Wes stop squirming. What little complexion he had vanished.
Arianne straightened from her crouched position. “Darla, let Wes go. He was just trying to help me clean up the mess you made.”
Darla ignored Arianne, not letting go of the already red ear she pinched. “Do you have friends, Wes?”
The boy tried to nod, but the way Darla clamped onto him prevented that, so he whimpered an affirmative instead. A wet stain spread wider over the front of his pants.
“Darla! Stop this!” Arianne moved to help Wes, but Darla’s Keds connected with her shin, sending her slamming onto the lockers. The crowd paid no attention and kept moving. Even if Arianne asked for help, none of them would. She leaned heavily on the cold metal behind her, refusing to apply pressure to the source of the pulsating pain racing up her leg.
“Wes, how would you feel if your friends stopped being your friends?” Darla continued her interrogation, showing all her whitened teeth only inches from Wes’s cheek.
“Please, Darla,” Wes whispered, “let me go. I was just trying to help her.”
“That’s my point!” She raised her voice a fraction. Then she inhaled and blew out all her frustration on the poor boy’s face. “You don’t help Ari. No one does. Am I making myself clear?” She let his ear go and pushed him until he stumbled away. “As for you—” Darla smiled at Arianne like nothing happened “—better hurry up. First class is about to start.” She walked off, her pleated skirt swishing from side to side.
A scream, one that would make any Oscar winning actress proud, climbed up Arianne’s throat from depths of aggravation caused by the years of abuse Darla meted out. It took all the determination she had to swallow it down and breathe. She’d brought Darla’s wrath on herself. No one else was to blame for the mistakes she’d made years ago.
With shaking fingers, Arianne picked up her scattered books along with her dignity, cut the fishing wire, and shoved everything into the foot-deep upright coffin she called a locker. Her day had only begun, and she refused to let Darla’s immaturity ruin her mood.
Arianne rubbed her hands together as she neared the chemistry lab. She pushed away any stalker-y thoughts and let excitement and anticipation propel her forward. Nothing wrong with wanting to be in the same class as him, right?
At the door, she stopped and scanned the room, catching sight of her lab partner waiting at their table—a lanky girl who hadn’t quite lost the need to part her hair in the middle and braid it on each side of her head. Half the class had settled in already, examining the myriad of materials on their tabletops waiting to be used. No Niko. Arianne shoved the initial disappointment aside and waved at her lab partner, who showed off the braces on her upper teeth.
“New bands, Tammy?” Arianne asked when she reached their table. She unzipped her pack and fished out her lab coat.
“Do you like them?” Tammy smiled again, extra wide this time. “I wanted to go with red, but Mom says it makes my teeth look like I have spaghetti stuck between them.”
“I’d say pink’s your color.”
“It’s a good second choice.” Her mouth formed a pout. “I heard about the ‘pull and puke.’”
“Poor Wes.” Arianne shrugged. “He shouldn’t have helped me.”
Tammy slammed her hand on the table. “Why aren’t you fighting back? Darla’s been bullying you for so long, I’ve lost count of the things she’s done to you.”
“Let it go, Tam. There’s nothing you can do.”
“Oh yeah?”
Arianne stared at her friend until the other girl lost all her false courage. “I thought so.” She allowed a wan grin to cross the planes of her face. “I appreciate the support. Just one more year and I’ll be rid of Darla’s reign of terror.”
“So—” Tammy wiggled her eyebrows “—ready for some learnin’?”
Arianne’s nose crinkled, glad for the change of subject. “Easy for you to say. You’re already a chem goddess.”
“Oh, come on, Ari, it’s not that bad.”
“You weren’t the one who almost passed out from inhaling fumes last week.” She shrugged into her lab coat. Then she fished out a rubber band from the pocket of her jeans and secured her fire-hazard locks with it. “I hate to ask, but…what do we have to look forward to this morning? Anything that could potentially kill me this time around?”
Tammy pointed at the whiteboard. “Physical and chemical changes,” she said.
“Great.” Arianne groaned. “I might end up losing a finger.”
“That’s the spirit! Don’t worry—” Tammy patted her shoulder “—I’ll handle sections of the experiment that need matches and the Bunsen burner. Here’s your copy of the worksheet.”
Arianne pinched the stapled pieces of paper between her thumb and forefinger as if they’d been used to pick up puppy poop. “That makes me feel so much better.” She slumped sideways on her stool, letting her gaze wander.
Niko and his lab partner ambled in with their heads together, in the middle of a conversation. Carl—Niko’s curly haired, freckly faced partner—paled in comparison to the contrasting dark and light beauty of the specimen Nikolas Clark represented. Arianne always thought he was of a different species entirely. Maybe someone of a heavenly persuasion sent to Earth for mortals to worship. Niko pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, breathing in like he hadn’t used his lungs for a while. He paused, said something to a suddenly hovering Carl, and put on his lab coat. Oh, how she wanted to be that coat. She bit her lower lip while her brows conferred with each other.
In hushed tones, Arianne said, “What do you think is wrong with Niko? He has shadows under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept in, like, a week.”
Tammy discreetly peeked at the last table nearest the back door. “You think he’s coming down with something?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him tired before. He always looks so healthy.”
“Anyone can have a bad day, Ari.” Tammy perused their worksheet some more, flipping to the last page.
Arianne faced her partner. “Not Niko Clark. Not since he transferred here freshman year from Atlanta.”
“That long ago, huh? And you’re an expert on all things Niko Clark?”
“I—” Her tongue dried up. “I…uh.”
Tammy studied Arianne then snorted. “I smell a crush.”
“You smell watermelon shampoo!”
“All right everyone, settle down,” Mr. Todd said upon entering the lab. His hair had too much product, making him resemble a Ken doll, only without the perfect teeth. He paused until everyone faced him. “As you can see on the board, we’ll be differentiating between physical and chemical changes.”
About halfway through Mr. Todd’s pre-lab discussion, Mrs. Whistle—the school’s secretary—in her usual mumu and horn rimmed glasses, sashayed into the room like a supermodel, handed over a slip of paper, and promptly left without a word.
“Tammy Herald and Carl Thompson, you’re both to report to the principal’s office immediately,” he announced.
“What’s that about?” Arianne asked.
Tammy removed her lab coat and gathered her things. “I don’t know.”
Carl, backpack already in hand, waited for Tammy at the front of the class. He took the paper from Mr. Todd, and once Tammy reached him, they both left through the front door.
“Niko,” Mr. Todd said over the tsunami of whispers, “will you join Arianne, please?”
Arianne inhaled too fast, causing her to sway slightly. Somehow her heart had transformed into a bullet that ricocheted inside her chest. She braced herself on the table’s edge, staring at the test tube rack to keep from looking over her shoulder. Act cool. Just act cool.
Niko settled into Tammy’s stool and flashed Arianne a cordial smile. “Nikolas Clark,” he said.
Arianne tucked an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear, forgetting that the strands were currently tied together for her own safety. “I know,” she breathed out. “Uh, I mean, Arianne Wilson. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Amusement seemed to make Niko even more handsome. “Finally?”
“I, uh, mean, for the first time.” Arianne returned her attention to Mr. Todd, who resumed his lecture after getting the class to pay attention again. “I mean, since freshman year. We’ve had freshman English together, sophomore geometry, and now chemistry.” Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
“That many classes together and we’ve only just met?” He shook his head. “Well, I’m glad this chance has presented itself. It’s a pleasure meeting you, Arianne Wilson.”
Her spine went ramrod straight while her stomach flipped five times. When had she gotten on a plummeting rollercoaster?
“Okay, safety goggles on, and begin,” Mr. Todd said. “Remember to record all observations on your data table.”
Niko flipped to the second page of the worksheet. “There are six procedures on here. Care to split the jobs evenly?”
Arianne attempted to respond, but lost the signal between her brain and tongue. He even makes safety goggles look good, she thought. She snapped her jaw shut, eliciting a click. She swallowed, hoping nothing escaped.
“I’ll take odds and you take evens. Sound fair?” he asked cautiously.
“Shhuurrr.” Arianne fumbled as she reached for the insulating square she was supposed to place under the watch glass, according to the instructions.
“Is everything all right?” Niko glanced at her after he’d lit the Bunsen burner.
“I’m fine,” Arianne squeaked. She tore up small bits of paper and burned them on top of the watch glass by lighting a match and placing it on top of the pile she’d made.
Niko shrugged and proceeded to place a cube of wax into a test tube. He held the tube over the blue flame. “I would say this is a physical change, not a chemical one.”
“Okay.” Arianne scribbled his observation on the third page of her worksheet. The pen had a life of its own, wanting to write down “Mrs. Arianne Clark” on every available space, over and over again. Keeping her hand at bay, she said almost like a normal person, “And burning paper is a chemical one.”
Like manna falling from the heavens, he granted her a smile. “I’d say you’re right.” Then he did the unthinkable, he touched her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Sparks ignited in the pit of her stomach. She could die and have no regrets. “I’m just a little nervous, I guess.”
“Chemistry not your thing?”
“You can say that. I just don’t get it.” She swallowed the tide of crazy thoughts. Understanding what he said next required a total brain-reboot.
“I think it’s more like a hesitation on your part to open up to the possibilities of what chemistry can teach you.” He leaned in a little closer. “Physics may rule the world, but chemistry is what makes it an interesting place. All the atoms, neurons, protons. They’re in everything. Binding everything together. We wouldn’t exist without chemistry. Worth thinking about, right?”
Oh, you don’t want to know what I’m thinking about, mister. An army of muscles had to help her assemble a smile that wouldn’t end up with her being slapped with a restraining order.
“Shall we start with procedures three and four, then?” he asked.
She absentmindedly reached for the magnesium ribbon and tore it. She placed two fingernail-sized pieces into a test tube and proceeded to fill a dropper with hydrochloric acid. Her attention shifted to Niko as he added sodium chloride to water in a beaker. The deft movements of his hands had her imagining things she shouldn’t be imagining. Things a girl like her shouldn’t be caught doing in public, let alone on top of a chemistry lab table. The dropper missed the mouth of the test tube she held just as she squeezed the black rubber end to release the acid. Droplets met her skin.
Even before she could register the pain, Niko had grabbed her hand and yanked her to the sink. The test tube and dropper clattered to the floor, meeting their imminent demise. He ignored the mess and opened the tap, placing her hand under the steady stream. Arianne yelped as the sudden burn was replaced by ice.
“Mr. Todd, where do you keep the sodium bicarbonate?” Niko asked.
“Brown bottle by the sink,” their teacher said. “Now class, I cannot emphasize strongly enough the need for caution. Please, handle the hydrochloric acid with care.”
Niko twisted the cap off the bottle and splashed some of its contents onto the red welt that rose on Arianne’s hand. “Better?”
“Much.” Arianne blew onto the raw skin. “Doesn’t burn as badly anymore.”
“Oh, we’re not done yet,” Niko said in all seriousness.
We’re not? Saliva flooded her mouth.
The boy of her dreams addressed their teacher. “Mr. Todd, I believe Arianne needs a cold compress. I’m taking her to the nurse’s office.”