Can't Beat the Chemistry

by Kat Colmer

  I chew on the already-raw skin around my thumbnail. It’s not that I can’t understand the stuff, I just need a little longer to digest it, to have it make sense.

  Theo reaches for my sticks again. My hand steals across the table and grabs them before he can. Any more of his thwacking and I’m likely to use the sticks to give him another piercing.

  In retaliation he does that scraping thing with his tongue and lip ring that gives me the creeps. He grins. ‘You know, Macca’s doing uni level science this year. She could help.’

  My soft drink freezes halfway to my mouth.

  Theo continues, ‘She sat her Year 12 chem and bio exams early. Aced them too and got into the uni’s Head Start program. Her school releases her on Mondays so she can attend some science tute and lecture.’ He takes another slug from his can. ‘I’m pretty sure she did Introductory Chemistry last semester.’

  She did. Always sat three rows from the front, pen moving across her notepad from start to finish of every class. I should have done the same. Maybe then I wouldn’t be repeating the unit.

  I consider his suggestion. The few occasions MJ’s path has crossed mine, she’s not exactly been rainbows, unicorns and sunshine. She reminds me of a hedgehog: small, kind of cute, but all balled up and prickly, especially if you get too close. I can’t see her sticking her hand up to tutor me in chemistry. And even if she did, there’s still the problem of payment.

  I taste blood and look down at my hand. I’m no longer drinking soft drink but biting my cuticle again. I put down the drink, pick up one of my drumsticks and twirl it to keep myself from gnawing away any more of my skin. ‘MJ would never do it,’ I say. ‘Besides, I can’t pay her anyway.’

  ‘Pay me for what?’

  At the sound of MJ’s voice, my fingers turn all thumbs. My rhythm goes bust and the drumstick clatters to the floor. I turn in time to watch her walk into the kitchen behind her roommate, Sandy. Her small frame is obscured almost completely by the large blank canvas she’s carrying. Even half-hidden, the Olsen paleness and Wang jet-black hair are too striking to miss.

  ‘Great, you got it.’ Theo jumps up and relieves MJ of the canvas. ‘And the paints?’

  MJ points to Sandy, who says a quick ‘hi’ and hands over a plastic bag.

  ‘Thanks. Would have been a pain lugging this stuff on the bus. The guy at the panel beater reckons I should be getting my car back in a few weeks.’

  ‘No problem. Any time.’ MJ drops her messenger bag onto one of the empty chairs and turns curious eyes my way. ‘Pay me for what?’ she asks again, unbuttoning her blazer.

  ‘Luke needs a chemistry tutor.’ Theo leans the canvas against the kitchen table and starts rummaging through the plastic bag. ‘You happy to help?’

  Her fingers go still on the last blazer button. ‘You take chemistry?’

  ‘Yeah, I take chemistry.’

  Her neat little brows scrunch up. ‘I thought you studied music?’

  ‘And chemistry.’ Why the hell does that surprise her so much?

  ‘What level?’

  I pause, tempted not to answer. She knows I’m in the same year as her brother, so … ‘Introductory,’ I mumble.

  Her eyes widen. ‘You’re failing Introductory Chemistry?’ The incredulity that takes over her face is a direct kick to my already bruised ego. I bend to pick up the drumstick off the floor, just so I can escape her disbelieving gaze. ‘I did that subject last semester,’ she finally admits.

  ‘So, you know this stuff backwards,’ Theo says. ‘Help the guy out.’

  When I straighten, I’m caught in her eyes. Unlike Theo’s brown ones, they’re almost black, but not quite. More … a moonless midnight; so dark they swallow the pupil, so large they spill out onto the white of her face. And right now they’re more confused than patronising. Doesn’t make me feel any better.

  I drag my gaze away from hers and glare at my roommate. ‘Leave it. I can’t pay her, remember?’

  ‘You’re a friend. She’ll do it for free.’ Theo slaps a hand on his sister’s tiny shoulder. ‘Right, Macca?’

  MJ’s horrified expression tells me exactly what she thinks of the idea. And I’d bet an entire week’s music tuition money it’s not the lack of payment that has her face turning whiter than my drum kit skins.

  ‘I’m not letting her do it for free and I can’t pay, so … conversation closed.’

  Theo opens his big mouth. My glare cuts him off before he can say anything else. Something tells me the girl’s company won’t exactly be a soothing balm to my self-esteem.

  ‘You give drumming lessons, right?’ We all turn to the back of the kitchen where Sandy is leaning against the counter. ‘Would an extra drumming student help pay for the tutoring?’ Full of confidence in her solution, Sandy fixes her gaze on me.

  ‘An extra drumming student?’ MJ has swapped the horrified look for her previous confused one. Her face is so expressive I doubt she’s ever capable of masking her emotions.

  Sandy pushes away from the kitchen counter and, eyes now wide with some unspoken message, sidles up to MJ. ‘Yes, an extra drumming student. Me.’

  A look passes between the girls, one loaded with oestrogen; one Theo and I have zero hope of deciphering. One MJ seems to be having trouble understanding, too—until Sandy nudges her with her elbow.

  MJ sweeps a hand along the back of her neck, brushing the weight of her long, inky hair forward over a rigid shoulder. She lifts her eyes and moonless midnight locks on me. ‘You can pay me by giving Sandy drumming lessons.’

  Sandy sends me a quick smile. ‘I’ve always wanted to learn.’

  My gaze toggles back and forth between MJ and Sandy. I have no idea what’s going on, but heaviness gathers in my gut. The kind you feel when you know something smells off, but damn if you can find the source of the stench.

  ‘See?’ Theo heaves the canvas under one arm. ‘Problem solved. And with Macca doing the tutoring, you can’t fail.’ He grins at his sister and heads towards his room with his new stash of paint supplies.

  He’s probably right. MJ’s the best shot I’ve got at passing, but something tells me it’ll cost me more than just drumming lessons.

  My fingers tighten around the drumstick. ‘You sure about this?’

  She glances at Sandy. Tiny shoulders slump on a heavy exhale before those huge eyes find mine. ‘Final exams are in November. That gives us just under two months. How far behind are you?’

  Too far behind. ‘I failed the mid-sem exam.’ Again.

  She shakes her head and takes a deep breath as though bracing herself for the impossible. Real confidence booster that.

  ‘Ideally, you’ll need two sessions a week. I can give you one.’ Her voice is all business. ‘We can start tomorrow, after your lectures and before I head home for the weekend.’

  Now it’s me shaking my head. ‘I can’t do Fridays.’

  Slender arms cross over bottle green. ‘Do you want to pass or not?’

  I lean back in my chair and fold my own arms over my chest. ‘I can’t do Fridays.’

  If we’re going to do this, she needs to get that straight. Fridays are non-negotiable.

  Her response? A moonless midnight glare. I’m all but convinced she’s about to give me the see-ya-later-loser finger when Sandy clears her throat.

  MJ stills, briefly closes her eyes. ‘Fine. How about Monday morning? My first lecture doesn’t start until nine. We can meet at the library at eight.’

  ‘Eight is fine.’

  ‘Not too early for you?’

  Sandy elbows her in the ribs again and—nope—can’t say I’m sorry about the flash of discomfort that crosses MJ’s face.

  ‘Eight is fine.’ I force my lips into a tight smile.

  She harrumphs, grabs her messenger bag and slings it over her shoulder. ‘Hey, Theo, if you don’t need me any
more, I’m going to head,’ she calls in the direction of her brother’s room.

  ‘See ya. Thanks again for dropping my stuff.’

  ‘Sure.’ She watches Theo’s bedroom door for a moment or two before turning my way again. ‘Monday morning. Outside the library.’ She’s all business as she buttons her blazer.

  I point at her with my drumstick. ‘Bright and early.’

  She grabs Sandy by the arm and jerks her towards the front door. After it clicks shut behind them, my eyes stay glued to the age-stained off-white paint. What just happened? A quarter of an hour ago I was convinced I’d fail chemistry. Now the odds are looking up because Theo’s prickly little sister is my damn chemistry tutor!

  My restless fingers madly twirl the drumstick as I think. After a full five minutes I’ve come to a conclusion—it’s never been this hard to keep the damn drumstick from falling to the floor.

  MJ

  A Drum Of A Plan

  I manage to keep quiet all the way down the first flight of stairs, before I give Sandy my best what-the-heck? look. ‘Drum lessons?’ My disbelieving question bounces off the stairwell walls. ‘Since when are you interested in drum lessons?’

  She stops at the next landing and makes are-you-for-real? eyes at me. ‘Since Luke Bains is teaching them.’

  I huff and start down the next flight of stairs.

  ‘Wait, why are you upset?’ She hurries down after me. ‘The whole thing couldn’t have turned out better. Luke earns the cash to pay for his tutoring, I get to spend time with Luke, Theo saves his buddy from flunking another uni subject, and you earn brownie points for helping out a friend. Everybody wins.’

  Put like that, who can argue? No one, because—hello!—captain of the debating team, remember? That doesn’t change the fact that I’ve more or less been cornered into this whole tutoring thing.

  ‘I just don’t know if I have the time for anything extra, what with uni work and Year 12 and, well …’

  ‘Jason?’

  My face warms. Not with embarrassment, but with guilt. Here I am, unwilling to help Sandy spend time with the guy she likes because it might mean less time with the guy I like. Some friend I am.

  ‘I guess one session a week is workable.’ Drummer Boy needs more, but one is better than nothing. ‘And I suppose it’s good revision while I’m doing it.’

  Sandy wraps an arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze as we hit the foyer. ‘Thank you. And you never know, tutoring Luke might give you brownie points in the brains department.’

  I elbow her in the ribs. ‘It’s Introductory Chemistry. A piece of cake.’

  ‘Well, I-only-get-Distinctions brainiac, you’re doing it for a worthy cause.’ She pulls open the front door. ‘That’s got to make a good impression on the guy.’

  ‘So you’re a worthy cause now, are you?’

  She cuts me an unimpressed glare as I round to the driver’s side of the Honda. ‘And here I thought you had no sense of humour. Seriously though, you’re helping Theo help his mate. That’s got to count for something.’

  Maybe, maybe not. There’s no getting around the truth of it though: tutoring Luke will cut into my time—time I should be spending on my studies.

  You’ll be helping Theo. Smart girl, my roommate, making it about helping Theo rather than Luke and her. We’ve only shared a room for a year and a half, but it didn’t take her long to figure out I’d do anything for my brother.

  Mind you, if Mum found out I was ‘wasting’ my time tutoring instead of studying, she’d need to give herself CPR to get her outraged heart pumping again.

  ‘Let’s see how Monday goes.’ I buckle up and start the car.

  Sandy reaches for the heater and cranks it up full blast. ‘I’m sure it’ll go swimmingly.’

  Hopefully, because I haven’t tutored the guy yet and I’m already stressing about the whole thing.

  At least I’ve got my first meeting with Jason before I see the drummer boy. Now, there’s something to look forward to.

  ***

  My gaze strays to the coffee shop’s door for what must be the ninth or tenth time in the last five minutes. I’m early, I know, but a semester and a half attending the same chemistry and bio lectures as Jason has taught me he’s habitually early. Like me.

  Except, apparently, this Friday.

  I glance around the coffee-sipping crowd one more time looking for the familiar grey and teal of St. Barnaby’s uniform in case I’ve missed him holed away in some secluded corner, nose deep in his study notes. He’s nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’s forgotten we’d agreed to meet before I head home for the weekend. Doubtful. He’s just as excited about this bio assignment as I am. And even though I can’t yet say for sure, I suspect he’s fastidious about noting the dates and times of his appointments. Like me.

  My phone buzzes. The moment I catch sight of the screen, my teeth find the corner of my lip. It’s not Jason.

  ‘Hi, Mum. I’m not driving home straight away, remember? I’m meeting with Jason.’

  ‘That’s why I’m calling, Mackenzie. I don’t have much time. My next patient is due any moment. Is Jason there already?’

  Her call might be unnecessary—she would have grilled me about my meeting with Jason before my school bag hit the hallway floor—but not unexpected. The great Meike Olsen-Wang needs to be on top of every detail related to my academic life.

  I grip the mobile tighter. ‘No. I’m waiting for him now.’

  ‘Very good. Don’t forget to stress the benefits of choosing one of the research topics we selected.’

  We? From memory, I had little say in the matter.

  ‘Yes, sure.’ I grab Professor P’s list of suggested paper topics and scan the highlighted items. I can recite the selection backwards, but I pour over it again; years of following my mother’s direction renders the act more compulsion than choice. ‘I’ll run it by him.’

  The inhale of breath on the other end of the line trembles with impatience—that Viking-ancestor temper. ‘No, Mackenzie, you will carefully outline our arguments to him like we discussed, not run it by him. Getting Distinctions in your university subjects will give you a much-needed advantage. Have you any idea how difficult it is to secure a place in Sydney’s pre-med?’

  Have I ever! It’s hard not to when it’s all she’s been harping on about since I started the Head Start program. But Sydney Uni? I’ll gladly continue on at Macquarie or head to Melbourne or Monash—the further away the better—to fulfil Mum’s ‘my daughter, the surgeon’ dream, but not Sydney. I don’t think I could survive her alma mater. Being compared to the brilliantly perfect and perfectly brilliant Meike Olsen-Wang would push me over the edge.

  I’d never tell her this. Instead, I do what I always do. ‘Yes, I know, Mum.’

  ‘Good. Very good.’ A shaky laugh travels down the phone. ‘You’re an Olsen-Wang with an excellent opportunity, Mackenzie. Remember what that means.’

  How can I forget? If we had a family crest, it’d read: The measure of your worth is in the use of your brain. And as far as my mother is concerned, there’s only one use for my capable brain—medicine.

  My fiddly fingers freeze on the Post-it notes marking the articles in the stash of Scientific American periodicals I’ve brought to discuss with Jason. I swallow, the use of my brain is more than safe with Jason as my partner. The guy’s academic record would leave Stephen Hawking impressed.

  The café door opens and I look up. ‘I have to go. Jason is here.’ I hang up before my mother can continue her screwed-up version of a pep talk.

  ‘Hi.’ Jason pushes his straight brown hair off his forehead as he sits down opposite me at the brand-new-but-made-to-look-rustic table. I glance at my phone—3.58. I guess he is still early.

  I reach for the readings I’ve brought along, but at the last second remember the required social etiquette. ‘Did y
ou want to order something?’ I point to my half-empty cup of hot chocolate. Mind you, two minutes doesn’t give him enough time to make an order without cutting into our agreed meeting time.

  Jason shakes his head and taps my pile of periodicals. ‘You came prepared. Good. Because I intend to take this assignment very seriously.’

  I relax into my seat. ‘So do I.’ I pull the stack of journals closer. ‘I thought we could use these to help pinpoint a field of interest. Unless you’ve already set your heart on something?’ Genetics. Please say genetics. Apart from being one of my mother’s approved topics, it would be indisputable proof that Jason is the guy for me. Because while my brain is being honed for all things medicine, my heart has been set on genetics since the day I stumbled on that letter from the Huntington’s Disease Society.

  Expression set in quiet concentration, Jason flips through the first article I’ve marked—one on micro-biome engineering. He scans the abstract. ‘My interests lie mainly in the field of biotechnology, but I’m open to suggestions.’

  Yes! Biotechnology I can work with. ‘Have you read the latest on CRISPRS?’

  He pauses his page flicking and glances up. The spark of interest in his pale blue eyes brings his serious face to life. ‘That’s the bacteria-based DNA editing technique everyone’s racing to perfect, correct?’

  I nod and pull last December’s issue from the pile, trying hard to temper my enthusiasm towards the topic. I don’t want Jason to think I’m overeager or … obsessed.

  ‘They’re calling it a “jaw-dropping” breakthrough in the fight against hereditary disease.’ I open the dog-eared periodical at the relevant page. ‘The technique has blown open possibilities in the field of genetics. Things are changing rapidly and it’s a bit … controversial.’ I glance over at him, find his eyes, and hope that spark of interest is still—perfect! It’s still there. ‘And you know nothing excites Professor P more than the whiff of something controversial.’

  ‘Hmm,’ is all he says, but he slides the mag closer and starts reading. Chatter hums throughout the coffee shop as I focus intently on Jason’s face and try hard to read his expression. He turns the page and my fingers tingle with the need to point out the third paragraph where the Cas9 enzyme is mentioned.