M. Montgomery - Lab Partners

All right, everyone, Ms. Dailey announced from the front of the classroom. I had been scribbling absentmindedly in my notebook, which probably wasnt the best idea since this class was proving to be considerably more difficult than what I was used to. Up until now school had been easy for me, but this was my first college-level course, and for the first time in my life, I had to figure out what studying was. We have now reached the end of the first marking period. You may remember that at the beginning of the year I promised to assign you new lab partners at this point. Some of my classmates started getting excited, hoping they might be paired with their friends, while others seemed less enthused by the possibility of being paired with someone they didnt like. In fact, the biggest reason Ms. Dailey was changing our lab partners was because of the people who were unhappy with their current lab partners. Now, I dont want to hear any complaints. These changes will last until midterm.

I snuck a glance at my current lab partner, Walter Addens, and felt relief knowing that I wouldnt have to sit by him anymore. He was a nice guy and all, but his short black hair was always greasy and he smelled like he hadnt been near a shower a day in his life.

The list of your new lab partners is posted on the door. Be sure to look at it before you leave today. Seating arrangements will be changed on Monday. As if on cue, the bell rang. Have a good weekend, everybody.

Ms. Dailey walked calmly back to her desk as the room erupted into chaos. Everybody rushed to pack up their stuff and leave.

See you later, man. Walter gave a small wave as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. Oh, and heres your pencil back. Thanks for letting me borrow it.

No problem, Walter. Have a good weekend.

You too, Elliot.

I sat back in my chair and watched the tall, lanky boy fight his way to the door. Getting to the door wasnt that hard, as his odor made people naturally clear a path for him. He wouldve been fine if he just started using deodorant, but unfortunately, I dont think he got that memo in middle school.

The side of Walters face was still visible to me as he read the list. I watched him as his eyes scanned the paper, thinking his facial expression might reveal something about his new partner, but he remained impassive, turning to leave once he had seen the name.

I waited for the next throng of sweaty teenagers to clear out before checking the list. Other people tended to make me feel uncomfortable, especially when they invaded my personal space. I closed my notebook and slid it into my backpack at a leisurely pace. Then I sat back in my seat and watched my classmates with mild curiosity.

They were all crowded around the door, trying to find out who their new partners would be. A couple of girls squealed excitedly when they learned they were paired with their friends, and a few guys groaned in frustration at the names they found listed beside their own.

Ms. Dailey was infamous at Pinecrest for pulling stuff like this: creative ways to inspire learning. Dreading the work was one thing, but forced partnerships and having to be part of a team was quite another. Still, as long my new partner smelled better than Walter, I would be all rightunless it were Morgan Cook or Nate Anderson. Both of those boys hated me. They made it their mission to make my life an absolute hell, along with another friend of theirs, Cole. Thankfully, though, he was not in AP Chemistry.

The minute hand of the clock hanging on the wall to my right ticked slowly; it was fittingsitting in science class feeling the actual, physical pressure of time. I had approximately seven minutes until I missed the bus and would have to walk the four miles home. Begrudgingly, I pushed my chair back, grabbed my backpack, and walked to the front of the room.

There was now a little more breathing room by the door, since most of my classmates had seen the list and left already, but I still had to peer over a few heads to find my name. It didnt take long for me to spot it.

Elliot Goldman.

I flicked my eyes to the corresponding name and was relieved to find it was neither of my tormentors. A few years ago, I was partnered with Nate for a biology lab. I ended up doing most of the work and later found that he had snuck some frog guts into my backpack when I wasnt looking. I tried to get the smell out for weeks but ended up having to get a new backpack. I was glad I wouldnt have to worry about what he might do with chemicals for at least a few more months.

Jordan Hughes.

Interesting. Jordan had recently transferred here from out of state. If the gossip about him was anything to go by, he was from somewhere in the New England region. New Hampshire, maybe? I wasnt sure. I found it kind of odd, though, that he would be transferring into AP Chemistry after having missed out on the entire first marking period. Advanced Placement classes were no joke, and if most of us were struggling after having been here for two months, then he was surely doomed if he hadnt been taking it at his other school.

For his sake, I hope he had been, because I definitely wasnt in the mood to be pulling all the weight in our labs.

At my locker, it only took me a few seconds to spin my combination into the lock. I lifted up the latch, opened the locker, and was about to reach for my textbooks at the bottom when the door was suddenly slammed shut. Someone behind me laughed.

Immediately, I was face to face with Morgan Cook, who apparently thought slamming my locker shut for the hundredth time was the funniest thing hed ever seen.

Whatre you up to, freak? he said. He folded his beefy, gym-jacked arms over his chest. He was a football player, and while some of the students on the team remained their scrawny teenage selves, that was definitely not the case for Morgan, who had nearly doubled in size since the start of middle school. His impressive physique was likely the reason he was assigned the position of defensive tackle. There werent many others on the team who could hold the line as effectively as he could. But it wasnt hard to figure out that the brawn was making up for lack of a brain, especially when he opened his mouth.

Oh, you know, just trying my best to avoid imbeciles like you, I said, turning back around and putting in my combination a second time. Once done, I tried to open the door again and was not at all surprised when he slammed it shut once more.

You want to say that again, Idiot Goldman? he growled.

Was that supposed to be a clever insult? I asked. Because look, I can do it too. Morgan Cook? More like Moron Cook.

He didnt look happy.

Actually, I think I read somewhere that guys with names that are more common for girls tend to be more aggressive and troublemaking than those with more masculine names. I personally think that explains a lot. Dont you?

Morgans fist strained at his side, and he was just about to cock it when the football coach walked by. Coach Hanover was an aging man with wispy salt and pepper hair. His eyes were recessed deep in his skull, and that, in combination with his low, bushy eyebrows and the wrinkles around his eyes, forehead, and mouth, made him appear all the more intimidating. As I wasnt in any sports, I hadnt interacted with him much, but he had been the gym teacher for my first year of middle school, and from what Id seen of him, he was not someone to mess with.