Read Online Someone Else by Rebecca Phillips - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rebecca Phillips
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realized when I shuffled into class a little late and glimpsed Jessica, Dylan, and Ashley sitting at a table near the back of the room. Ashley saw me and raised her eyebrows all the way up to her hairline. My weekend with Michael had totally erased the matchmaking scheme from my mind. But now it was back, and three pairs of eyes bored into my face as I sat down.
“Hi,” I said, trying to sound cheerful and ready to mix chemicals when all I really felt was depressed and ready to go to bed.
“Where were you?” Ashley demanded.
“I went to the classroom first. I forgot we started labs today.”
“Jessica said we’re all working together, but I don’t remember anyone discussing it with me.”
Damn Ashley and her outspokenness. Okay, so I’d failed to mention the group plans to her, but only because I knew she would say no. For one, Ashley didn’t like Jessica all that much. Secondly, she always got tongue-tied around boys she thought were cute. She never would have agreed to this arrangement.
“Sorry,” I said.
She sent me a look that I’d seen many times before—cold-eyed disapproval—and then pretended to go over her notes. Jessica cleared her throat in the tense silence that followed, and Dylan gazed longingly over to a group of his friends at another table, undoubtedly wondering how in the hell he got stuck with three crazy girls. I thought of Michael’s words from Saturday night: estrogen overload .
McDowell started explaining in his dry tone that we would spend today’s lab getting familiar with the equipment and going over safety procedures.
“And next week,” he said, actually sounding a little animated now, “we’ll start working with base metals.”
Across from me, Jessica yawned loudly. McDowell ignored her and began demonstrating how to use a Bunsen burner. And after a long, boring tutorial, he let us play too.
“I have a feeling I’ll be breaking a lot of nails in this class,” Jessica said as she struggled with the rubber tube for our burner. “You guys will have to do the manual labor.”
Ashley shook her head, annoyed, and Dylan looked like he’d rather be experiencing a Novocain-free root canal than sitting here with us. He hadn’t spoken a word since I’d sat down.
McDowell turned on the main gas supply. A roaring sound filled the room and for a moment I was sure we were all goners.
“Remember,” he said, circling the room. “The hottest part of the flame is just above that cone of unburnt gas. Respect the flame, people. Okay, let’s shut everything down and take a look at the eyewash station.”
The roaring stopped and I slouched against the table, exhausted. McDowell started lecturing again, his deep, monotonous voice lulling me into a kind of daze until I was barely conscious of my surroundings. I rested my head on my hand, my eyes focused on the teacher but my mind somewhere else entirely. It was important to learn this safety stuff, I knew, but I was too tired to concentrate. In fact, I was so out of it that it took me a while to realize that Dylan was staring at me.
I’d caught him in my peripheral vision, which he obviously didn’t realize because he kept doing it. I jerked upright, my hand knocking into my pen and sending it rolling to the floor. I leaned over to get it and by the time I came back up, Dylan’s eyes were fixed on the teacher.
He didn’t look at me again for the rest of the class. I knew this because I spent the whole time watching him, trying to catch him in the act. I’d never really looked at him before, really looked, and all of a sudden I started noticing things about him, like that his forearm—which rested on the table as he half-turned in his chair toward McDowell—was covered in fine blond hairs. They matched the hair on his head, which was sandy blond and cut short. He was thin but not scrawny—lean and fit from soccer. His profile was nice but his nose, like mine, was a little on the large side. His face wasn’t all sharp
“Hi,” I said, trying to sound cheerful and ready to mix chemicals when all I really felt was depressed and ready to go to bed.
“Where were you?” Ashley demanded.
“I went to the classroom first. I forgot we started labs today.”
“Jessica said we’re all working together, but I don’t remember anyone discussing it with me.”
Damn Ashley and her outspokenness. Okay, so I’d failed to mention the group plans to her, but only because I knew she would say no. For one, Ashley didn’t like Jessica all that much. Secondly, she always got tongue-tied around boys she thought were cute. She never would have agreed to this arrangement.
“Sorry,” I said.
She sent me a look that I’d seen many times before—cold-eyed disapproval—and then pretended to go over her notes. Jessica cleared her throat in the tense silence that followed, and Dylan gazed longingly over to a group of his friends at another table, undoubtedly wondering how in the hell he got stuck with three crazy girls. I thought of Michael’s words from Saturday night: estrogen overload .
McDowell started explaining in his dry tone that we would spend today’s lab getting familiar with the equipment and going over safety procedures.
“And next week,” he said, actually sounding a little animated now, “we’ll start working with base metals.”
Across from me, Jessica yawned loudly. McDowell ignored her and began demonstrating how to use a Bunsen burner. And after a long, boring tutorial, he let us play too.
“I have a feeling I’ll be breaking a lot of nails in this class,” Jessica said as she struggled with the rubber tube for our burner. “You guys will have to do the manual labor.”
Ashley shook her head, annoyed, and Dylan looked like he’d rather be experiencing a Novocain-free root canal than sitting here with us. He hadn’t spoken a word since I’d sat down.
McDowell turned on the main gas supply. A roaring sound filled the room and for a moment I was sure we were all goners.
“Remember,” he said, circling the room. “The hottest part of the flame is just above that cone of unburnt gas. Respect the flame, people. Okay, let’s shut everything down and take a look at the eyewash station.”
The roaring stopped and I slouched against the table, exhausted. McDowell started lecturing again, his deep, monotonous voice lulling me into a kind of daze until I was barely conscious of my surroundings. I rested my head on my hand, my eyes focused on the teacher but my mind somewhere else entirely. It was important to learn this safety stuff, I knew, but I was too tired to concentrate. In fact, I was so out of it that it took me a while to realize that Dylan was staring at me.
I’d caught him in my peripheral vision, which he obviously didn’t realize because he kept doing it. I jerked upright, my hand knocking into my pen and sending it rolling to the floor. I leaned over to get it and by the time I came back up, Dylan’s eyes were fixed on the teacher.
He didn’t look at me again for the rest of the class. I knew this because I spent the whole time watching him, trying to catch him in the act. I’d never really looked at him before, really looked, and all of a sudden I started noticing things about him, like that his forearm—which rested on the table as he half-turned in his chair toward McDowell—was covered in fine blond hairs. They matched the hair on his head, which was sandy blond and cut short. He was thin but not scrawny—lean and fit from soccer. His profile was nice but his nose, like mine, was a little on the large side. His face wasn’t all sharp
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