Tʜᴇ Fᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ- Bᴀʀʙᴀʀᴀ Hᴏʟʟᴀɴᴅ

ᑭᗩᖇT ᖴOᑌᖇ

Liquids and gasses fizzed and spat as Barbara transferred them from one test tube to another. Scratched goggles rested over the top of her own clear-rimmed glasses, and the fog of the school ones made it quite difficult to see things clearly, which wasn't great news, saying she was dealing with poisonous substances.
Confusingly, none of the numerous smells floating around the atmosphere matched up with the one outside, which left the girl wondering whether it was too dangerous to let students handle, meaning it was a danger to society too. It was a terrible form of fear, thinking the world was ending slowly and painfully- all to the unknowing minds of the population.

The classroom murmured on, each work partner ensuing their own conversations as Mr Clarke sauntered on by. Barbara took this as her opportunity.
"Sir," she caught his attention, pausing to let him walk over.

"Yes, Miss Holland?"

"I was just wondering, are there any gasses, or poisons that smell, in Hawkins? That are too dangerous for us to handle?"

Her teacher blinked, thinking momentarily. "Well, I assume that there'll be many passing though- through the atmosphere, on trucks being transported, things like that."

Barbara smiled, bringing her hands together. She had meant are there any which were staying.
"None that are here permanently? None with the possibility to create an underlying smell wherever you go?"

"What an odd question." The man scratched his temple. "I mean possibly, but none that they will allow the public to know about."

Holland nodded down to the floor, glancing momentarily at her shoelace. "Thanks sir, that's all."

Turning on his heel, Mr Clarke left to occupy another set of students. Barbara looked into the flame of her Bunsen burner. It flickered violently under the pressure of the gasses surrounding it, accurately representing how Barbara felt: stressed. Stressed that no one else spoke on the matter, stressed that she seemed to be the only one to notice it, stressed that she just couldn't seem to get herself well again. And that's all she wanted really, to be well again.

She turned to her friend. "Nance, do you think that the school has any books on chemicals? Particularly ones that smell?"

Wheeler placed down her test tube into the rack and lowered her sleeves. "Well," she cleared her throat. "I would assume that if there was, Mr Clarke would've made us read it already."

Fair point. Even though no one actually read the books that sir assigned, Barbara and Nancy did. Every single text, every single paragraph. The two were keen workers, very similar mindset: get good grades, get a good job, get out of there. Actually, they had always planned on leaving together, but now that Steve Harrington was in the mix, Barbara couldn't see it playing out in that way.

"Do you think the library would stock anything like that?"

Nancy frowned. "Eh, I mean, they might? Why'd you need a book on chemicals anyway?"

Looking up to the ceiling, she pursed her lips. "No reason."

"Right..." Words came slowly, every second possibly rupturing her discoveries. "Well, let me know if you need help finding anything after school."

"Will do." Came a blunt reply. Barbara was always studying, researching something or other, so it was safe to say that her friend probably just thought she'd found a new interest. It was thankful that she was a brainy kid in the first place- threw everyone off the scent of any mystery.
Peering at the clock propped wonkily on the wall, eyes traced over two hands, both whom were signifying that the end of the lesson was near.