Chapter 4

It was the worst idea I’d ever come up with and I was screwed. Screwed.

First off, first period was quiet and went by really slowly. I listened to Miss Betty, our history teacher, blab on and off about the Great Depression with only half a mind, the other half caught up on my next class, Chemistry.

Behind me, Logan and his goon made stupid jokes that the rest of the class laughed to, even though I couldn’t really see what was funny. I’d basked in the knowledge that in less than one hour, he wouldn’t be laughing.

After giving us assignments to turn it the next day, the bell rang for second period. My heart was in my throat at this point and it was all I could do to not explode from anxiety. For some reason, I’d delayed behind and by the time I got to the lab, almost everyone was seated.

Everyone but me.

My lab partner was a girl named Stacey and when I got closer, I saw that that her boyfriend, a redheaded average height boy whose name I didn’t know was in my seat. Now, I could’ve asked him to move, like I always did but I recognized him as one of Logan’s goons and I wasn’t ready for drama today.

I checked around and tried to find some other seat that was empty.

“Miss Hale, anytime soon would be much appreciated.” the Chemistry teacher, Mrs. Pearson, gave me an impatient look. “There’s an empty seat in front. Please make use of it.”

I turned to find the seat in question and froze.

My heart dropped.

“Nah.” I gave her a shaky laugh. “I think I’m good. I’ll stand.”

Mrs. Pearson pursed her lips. I had the distinct feeling that she didn’t like kids because I’d never seen her smile with a student before. “You either sit or get an F for the day.”

I swallowed. So maybe I hadn’t thought this through or maybe the universe decided to punish me or something, because the only empty seat in class was at the far left of the front row.

Right next to Logan stupid Hernández.

Shit. It was either I sat next to him or Mrs. Pearson would fail me and I absolutely could not afford to smear my grades any further or how else would I get into Harvard? Oh, crap.

“Tick tock, Hale,” Logan cooed, patting the empty seat. “Or you could just walk out with an F. Your choice.”

Sweet baby Jesus. How had I ended up falling into a trap I set for Logan with my own two hands? I thought karma didn’t exist? I was not ready to risk my chances at getting into an Ivy league school by calling Mrs. Pearson’s bluff. I would not put it past her to carry out on her threat but at the same time, I couldn’t admit to what I’d done. It was synonymous with digging my own grave. Principal Donna could suspend me or worse, expulsion.

Screw Stacey and that airhead she was dating. Why had they decided to play love at my detriment? Screw both of them all the ways till Sunday.

My legs carried me forward with dread until I dropped into the seat. I tried to look on the bright side. My plan would still work, only that it would work against me as well as the intended victim. Was it still a win if I was caught in the crossfire as well?

“Alright, let’s begin,” Mrs. Pearson said. “Open your textbooks to page 103. We will be doing some experiments on titration today. You can all go ahead and put on your lab coats, gloves and protection goggles.”

There was silence as everybody followed the instructions. Inside me, my heart was beating at an alarming rate. The funny thing was I’d rather allow this dreadful plan to go through than to open my mouth and let Logan go scot-free for the crap he pulled on me yesterday. Yes, I was that petty.

The next few minutes went by quite quickly. I couldn’t stop thinking about how the universe was against me. I swear, I’d thought it through. Logan sat at this desk all of junior year that I was sure that he would seat here for senior year. His seat mate, however, I hadn’t considered. Though Logan was popular and almost everyone loved him. Sue me for thinking he’d have people dying to seat near him during chemistry lab.

“Now, as I said in the last class, titration is a practical technique used to determine the amount of concentration in a sample. Everyone, please look at the solution of dilute hydrochloric acid and sodium hydroxide in front of you.” Mrs. Pearson went on and I swear I almost vomited for real this time. My eyes kept looking at the solution in front of Logan. Jesus, I was screwed. Everyone would know it was me.

“Now, use your pipette and pipette filler to add twenty five centimeter cube of alkali solution to a clean conical flask. And if you still don’t understand what you’re doing, please ask questions,” she continued, performing the task herself on the table in front of her as example.

Logan picked up his pipette. My palms became sweaty. What he didn’t know was that there was no hydrochloric acid in front of him; it was plain old water.

I’d switched the solutions yesterday evening after school was over, thinking I was creating the prank of the century. Now, I just wished I hadn’t.

I braced myself for the impact when he lifted the flask of sodium hydroxide to pour it into the water. Oh, crap. My eyes instinctively shut and I almost moved away. Almost.

“Why on earth is smoke rising out of your flask, Mr. Hernández?” Mrs. Pearson’s impatient voice inquired.

“Hmm.” Logan narrowed his eyes, sincere confusion swirling in them. “You know, Mrs. Pearson, I actually have no idea. I did exactly what you said to do.”

I swear, I almost bust out laughing.

“Then why—”

Mrs. Pearson was interrupted by the sudden ‘boom!’ sound that resonated round the classroom. Next thing I knew, I felt it on my face. There was heat—really hot air—for a few seconds and then there was fire.

“Fire!” someone yelled from somewhere. “There’s fire!”

“Out!” The order came from Mrs. Pearson and a few seconds later, as the fire alarm began ringing. “Out, everyone!”

I was dead. Principal Donna would kill me.

As quickly as was possible, everyone dispersed from the classroom. From a distance, I sighted Aimee and Darren running like their tails were on fire. I could smell crispy burnt hair and I had no doubt that it was coming from my head. Smoke surrounded me. Inside the classroom, Mrs. Pearson used a thick blanket which I had no idea where it appeared from to douse the flame that had spread over the table.

When I did burst out laughing, it was because Logan was bent over leaning against his knees, coughing. His face was almost black and his hair was standing at different ends like he’d just seen a ghost.

His eyes connected with mine and I stopped laughing. “You!” he yelled, quieting the busy hallway.

He strode towards me with a glare fixed on his blackened face. The path cleared as he stormed forward and when he got to me, he growled.

“It was you, wasn’t it? I know you did this!”