Chương 35: Half Baked Experiments

The next day I made my way to school with my scarf still secure around my neck, despite the fact that it was going to be a balmy seventy-eight degrees today. Chicago has no spring; the weather is just winter chopped up with summer from March through May. The mirror in the bathroom showed that the bruises on my neck had gone from black to green and yellow. So close to being gone and yet not enough for Gran not to notice.

My voice unfortunately still sounded like it belonged on a Death Metal track, but the throat itself felt miraculously pain-free. I had munched my knock off Captain Crunch in silence this morning while Gran made eggs for herself, not talking to me. She didn't even yell at the kitchen's inanimate objects, which had never happened before. I would have far preferred it to this strange quiet. So it had been a tense morning and– surprise, surprise– it became an even more awkward afternoon.

Girls had brought out their spaghetti strap tops and boys their halter tops to celebrate the weather and there I was with my flannel plaid scarf and long sleeves down my arms.

"You think she's sick or something?" Jordan Bildeau asked from behind me in chemistry.

"Pshh, there's only one reason for someone to cover up their neck like that in this kind of weather," his friend Tony loudwhispered.

"Zero's got hickies." I just sat with my elbow on the table, leaning my chin into my hand, staring at the blackboard, refusing to look behind me. It wasn't just me having a bad day. Mr. Hooper still had his customary cup of coffee on his desk, but instead of his usual jubilant enthusiasm for science, he just did a lot of eyebrow rubbing and short, terse responses. Maybe they'd restricted him to a one cup per class policy.

"Miss Keene," he asked, staring at his desk.

"Can you read the definition for covalent bonds?" Great. Humiliation Sequence beginning in three, two, one…

"A covalent bond is a strong chemical link formed when atoms share valence electrons to achieve strong–" Snorts and high-pitched laughter rang out around the classroom. Yep. My voice still sounded like the little girl from The Exorcist when possessed by the devil.

"Wait, I was wrong," Tony guffawed loudly, nudging Jordan.

"It's not hickies– she likes getting choked out!" Oh the irony. Mr. Hooper held up a hand to quiet everyone down.

"I see you're not feeling well today, Miss Keene, so I'll let someone else read." Embry's hand shot straight into the air.

"Yes, Embry, you may finish for Cass."

"I'd be happy to read her section–" Why were people acting like that paragraph belonged to me and me alone?

"–But I did have a question first." Mr. Hooper was well used to Embry's questions, and was clearly on board with having her take up the class time talking instead of him. He nodded his head, after taking a long sip of his coffee.

"Go ahead."

"Well, covalent bonds are really interesting to this discussion because I happen to be doing my own experiments at home with bioplastic synthesis." She turned her head to look out over the students, as if she were speaking from a podium.

"As I'm sure we all know, the ability to create plastics from biodegradable sources is essential to the human race, that's why I practice it at home by converting renewable biomass such as starch into polymers by–" Just go ahead and crown her Miss America, it's going to happen eventually. Embry went on for an extended time, finally finishing with, "And that's how easy it is to create your very own nature-based plastics using heat-induced polymerization with acid catalysts and plasticizers.

Now, if you want to talk about microbial fermentation to produce polyhydroxyal–""Thank you, Embry, that will be enough for today." Mr. Hooper finally stood up and began walking around with his mug, showing that his caffeine had finally hit his nervous system.

"Now, we only have time left for you all to read the sheet in front of you that gives directions for the experiment I want you to perform during the last twenty minutes of class. Begin now." Our highly rigorous science experiment was to hold sugar and salt in a spoon over a candle and see how long it took to melt each. Why they thought this was a good experiment for high schoolers when it involved an open flame and the mimicking of drug paraphernalia, I'll never understand.

"Look!" Doug yelled out, holding his spoon with his still crystallized sugar up to his nose.

"I've got heroin. Someone want to snort it with me?"

"Dude, you're supposed to use a needle and you have to heat it first."

"No, you're thinking of meth." The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Alright, that's enough drug talk," Mr. Hooper said, as he made his rounds through the tables.

"Let's focus on the experiment, please. Mr. Taylor, stop burning your arm hair with your candle." What did he expect? Meat Tower was two tables behind me sitting behind Tony, his continued pyromania and obsession with pain on display. He dropped the candle in his hand to the desk with an eye roll, then glanced to me. His face turned even more sour. The classroom droning babble returned with the addition of the clinking of metal spoons and screeches as students inevitably touched their flames too long.

Apparently Brandon wasn't the only Neanderthal. I silently made my way through the worksheet, minding my own business, but I couldn't help but hear things.

"I'm not trying to be mean here, Susan," Embry said from her spot at the front of the class.

"But you do understand the difference between ionic and covalent bonds, right? No, I see that you don't. Okay, let me explain–""But seriously, Joy is better than any of those," Tony whispered to Jordan. My pencil stopped scratching across my paper, and I turned my ear slightly towards them.

"Shut up, like you've had any."

"I did! I swear, at Mark's party a month ago. We were going to do it again last Saturday, but the dealer said the price went up, and we didn't have the cash. Do you have any money? I could hook you up if you share." My pencil tapped on my paper as I bit my lip. I didn't have a lot of opportunities to talk to people who were involved in this kind of stuff– well, in fact, any. At the very least, as a crime fighter, I needed to know more about my enemies, and hey, maybe I could get some more info for Rigel.

So I might as well use what I got. I turned around in my chair.

"Did the Joy give you any side effects?" It seemed like it was just that inhaler spray that gave the dealers temporary enhancements, but maybe the drug itself was doing it too. Maybe the Alchemist wanted everyone to have powers. Tony got a slow smile on his face as his eyes went up and down my thrift store clad form.

"No side effects girl, it's real safe. Your senses are totally enhanced, everything feels good. I could get us some if you have the money." Guess he was really banking on his assumptions about my neck covering and choked voice to give me that look. Jordan pushed Tony in his seat.

"It's not safe. Mark OD'ed on it. Stop trying to get people to buy you Joy." He looked at me.

"Especially from a narc." I put a hand to my chest in indignation.

"I am not a narc," my gravely voice attempted to whisper.

"I've just heard a lot of things, like that the people who sell it are… different. What was your supplier like?" Jordan looked at me blankly.

"Supplier? Did you learn how to be a narc from late night TV?" Tony laughed again. It was no wonder that the kid hooked on Joy couldn't stop giggling like an idiot.

"It's cool, but people say 'my hook up' or just say 'dealer'."

"Don't help the narc, Tony." I held up my hands and whisper-shouted, "I'm not a narc!" Jordan shook his head.

"Exactly what a narc would say." Sleuthing attempt over, I went back to my science experiment, lighting the candle and mounding the white sugar on the spoon. Maybe I'd get better information by just listening in. Despite their certainty that I was an undercover narcotics agent for the Chicago PD, Tony and Jordan didn't hesitate to resume their conversation about the euphoric experience that was Joy and when they could get some. They had the object permanence of a goldfish. This is what drugs will do to you, kids.

"I'm telling you, man," Tony said in a low voice.

"We could find out the recipe and make our own. We could sell it and get rolled– Breaking Bad style. And I'll be Jesse." Oh how quickly the young teenage slacker progresses from using to dealing. Embry had finally finished her loop around the class to criticize everyone's inadequate sugar and salt melting experiment. She was now standing over Jordan, arms crossed in front of her.

"You can't make your own Joy." Jordan looked up and sneered at her even more than he had for me.

"Why because drugs are bad? Mmm kay." Embry tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked down her nose at him.

"No, because it's made by a villain and the police think they are using their power during the production process." My sugar had melted into a nice liquid pool on my spoon and I tilted it back and forth as I continued to listen. Tony shook his head, dipping his spoon in both of his plastic containers.

"That's just something they said in the assembly. If I could get some of this sweet science crap out of this class, I bet I could cook my own."

"Not unless you suddenly grew powers… or a brain. You're supposed to keep the salt and sugar separate, imbecile." She took his spoon away.

"The chemical composition would have to be complex and they say it's this new villain who is behind it all. Only the henchmen– or hench women – are dealing it out, so good luck." Embry's mouth curled into that sour smile that screamed her superiority to those around her. Jordan rolled his eyes "You may know science, but you don't know crap about Joy or dealers. I bet Zero even knows more than you. Why don't you ask her?" Jordan flicked some salt at the back of my head.

"She was talking about it before. Hey Cass, tell us about those suppliers, huh?" Embry's head angled toward me like a hawk's, eyes wide and nostrils flared. Clearly this was an unwelcome development. I brushed my hair over my shoulder in my best approximation of Stuck-Up-Know-It-All as I turned back to them, still holding my spoon over the candle on my table.

"I heard the dealers aren't henchmen, but instead non-supes who get temporary powers." It would have sounded a lot smarter and cooler if I didn't sound like a dying frog. Jordan snorted.

"You wish, Zero." Embry was still staring at me.

"Where did you hear this from?" I shrugged.

"I hear a lot of things in my part of town. I even know the name of the villain they say is doing it." Beavis and Butthead looked at me with their mouths hanging open. Embry's eyes just narrowed.

"Who?"

"They say it's The Alchemis–""Miss Keene!" Mr. Hooper grabbed my spoon which now held a lump of crispy blackened sugar that was smoking slightly. He threw it into the small sink on the end of my table and turned on the water. Brushing his hands together, he stared at me.

"I'm shocked that I have to tell you to stop talking, Miss Keene. I want everyone here to be silent for the rest of the time period and get their work done." A heavy hand fell on my shoulder and I turned to see Mr. Hooper standing next to me.

"Cass, see me after class."