Bobby dipped the wire into the concentrated hydrochloric acid and placed it into the lithium solid. A small amount of the metal chloride formed. Then he held it to the flame. The blaze instantly burned bright red.
“Cool,” he said, gazing into the fire.
I recorded the answer onto our worksheet.
“So there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” he said.
My gut involuntarily sucked in. I said nothing.
“Are you still gonna help out with the film festival? ’Cause we only have two weeks left to plan…”
My stomach unclenched.
“Oh,” I said, a bit too loudly.
He cocked his head. “What’d you think I was gonna say?”
“I don’t know. Nothing.” I cleaned off the wire in acid. “Sure, I’ll help you. What do you need? Posters? Flyers?”
“Yeah, and we need to recruit some people to showcase their work. So far, the photography club members only have a bunch of amateurish black-and-whites—girls standing in front of boys’ urinals and whatnot.”
“Seriously?” I asked, my eyebrows squished together.
I had never ventured into a restroom intended for the opposite sex. But I wasn’t exactly much of a rule breaker. I’d wait in the women’s bathroom line for an hour before ever hopping into an abandoned men’s stall across the way.
“I can see if other kids have better pictures. Madison might have some digitals from her family’s trip to Rome.”
“Yeah, stuff like that would be good.”
He dipped the wire coated with potassium into the flame. It immediately altered to a bright lilac hue perfect for a prom dress.
“Wow,” I muttered.
“I figure as Thanksgiving gets closer things are gonna get crazy,” Bobby said.
“Oh, shoot. I forgot…” My brown eyes pulled wide.
“The date? ’Cause you kinda were there when the dean set it.”
He dipped the wire back into the acid for cleaning.
“No, it’s just…” I timidly stared down at our worksheet and carefully recorded our answer. “I mean, I’m kinda getting a new house guest in a few days.”
“So, is that a problem?” Bobby’s blond curls flopped on his forehead.
“Well, it’s just that my guest is gonna be coming to school with me, us. Not to our classes, but I’ll need to show him around….”
“He?” Bobby stared intently at the wire he was cleaning.
“Yeah. He’s a friend of Lilly’s…and mine…from Puerto Rico. He’s gonna be checking out some colleges in the area.”
“So he’s our age?” Bobby interrupted, not making eye contact.
“He’s a senior.”
My eyes locked on the lab equipment. I didn’t know why I felt so uncomfortable telling him about Alex. Bobby wasn’t my boyfriend, but for some reason I felt like I was confessing that I had cheated with another guy, and worse, that the other guy had won.
“If you’re too busy, that’s cool,” he grumbled, shrugging his lanky arms.
“No, it’ll be fine. I’ll work it out. I’m a multitasker.” I smiled, hoping to ease the thick tension floating between us. “I can plan festivals, accommodate guests, leap tall buildings…”
“In your case, wouldn’t that be pirouette over tall buildings?”
“No, probably split leap tall buildings.”
“Ah, even better.”
He dipped the wire into the next metal and continued the lab work. The calcium turned brick red.
Chapter 3
Madison’s Audi wove through the narrow city streets. If she moved even an inch to the right, her car would swipe the side-view mirrors of every parked vehicle on the block.
“This can’t possibly be a two-lane street,” I said from my seat in shotgun.
With all of Emily’s family woes, she didn’t have much energy to extend to keeping her permanent spot in Madison’s passenger seat. We now rotated the position on a regular basis.
“My dad said that all the streets in Philly have two lanes.”
Madison’s eyes were intently focused on keeping the car straight. She rolled to a stop at a red light, and sure enough, a white cab pulled up to our left, squeezing just a few inches shy of her door. We were so close that, had we wanted, we could have held a conversation with the passenger in the backseat.
“I told you,” Madison mocked.
“Hey, this is normal to me,” Lilly added. She was seated beside Emily. “Mariana, you’ve seen how people drive in Puerto Rico.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” I flinched, my nose scrunched. “When our cousin Alonzo picked us up at the airport, he sped up this dirt road so fast through the mountains that our tires scraped the cliff. I thought I was gonna die.”
“Yeah, well, if I don’t pay attention, we’re gonna die.”
Alex was arriving tomorrow, and as a welcome gift, my friends and I were putting together a basket of Philadelphia staples. We were collecting a miniature Liberty Bell, a replica of the Declaration of Independence, postcards from the Constitution Center, a flag from the Betsy Ross House, soft pretzels from sidewalk vendors, water ice from South Philly, and rival cheesesteaks from both Pat’s and Geno’s famous establishments. My parents swore they’d keep everything preserved until tomorrow night.
“Why don’t you guys just run in?” Madison asked as she rolled to a stop.
Lilly and I yanked our door handles and piled out in front of the modern white museum. We darted toward the glass doors of the Constitution Center. An exhibit on the history of baseball was showing inside.
“What do sports have to do with the Constitution?” Lilly asked, staring at a cutout of Babe Ruth.
“I can guarantee you that many Americans know the history of the Yankees and the Red Sox better than they do the Redcoats and the Colonies.”
We rushed toward the gift shop. I immediately began swiveling a metal stand of postcards while Lilly swiveled another.
“You know, I could be mildly offended that Alex is getting this big welcome extravaganza when I got nada,” Lilly huffed as she plucked a photo of Boathouse Row and showed it to me.
“That was different. We all flew in together. What, did you expect Tootsie to put together a grand entrance for you? He can barely roll over for a dog treat.” I snatched an image of the Art Museum “Rocky” steps from the display.
“Still, it would’ve been nice.”
“Well, I’ll tell Tootsie to get his act together.”
I gathered the cards Lilly was holding and spun toward the register. As soon as I reached the cashier, I was stopped by a sight outside of the shop. There, in the atrium of the museum, was Emily’s mom. And she wasn’t alone.
“Holy shit,” I muttered.
The middle-aged sales clerk shot me an angry look.
“No, not you. Sorry.” I swatted anxiously at Lilly, pointing.