FORTITUDO

Note to Self: leave room in calculations for explosions

"Ah Winter,  if only you could join us back in the Land of the Living"

I hastily look up from my doodling to realise the whole class is staring at me.

Oh fuck.

"Ms Wu," my teacher begins smugly,  knowing that i have no idea what is going on "If you could refrain from disappearing into your sweet little head in the future it is would be much appreciated. Perhaps you might even learn something." And with that she continued to drone on about whatever useless crap she was teaching in the first place.

Did I mention how much I hate Mrs. Wellington and her completely useless teaching methods? No? Well I guess I have now. While we're on this topic I may as well point out that Mrs. Wellington has been my science teacher for years, and ever since that very first day when she called me obnoxious and lazy, our mutual hatred has only blossomed and grown into what is probably the most hideous flower of all time.

I probably shouldn't judge her too much, teaching a fifteen year old kid with an IQ of 170 cant exactly be easy. If only she knew the things that were actually going on in my "sweet little head". I'm certain I'm on the brink of something extraordinary but in order to bring my theories to life I need proper equipment. Equipment too expensive to buy with my shitty Starbucks employee salary. So I wait at the end of chemistry, which is the last class on a Thursday, for everyone except poor Mrs. Wellington to leave before I put my plan into action.

"What is it now, Winter? If its about the curriculum again then I can't and don't want help you."

"It's not the curriculum, miss." I say shuffling ever so slightly to the left towards her coat, which is draped over her arm.

"Well what is it then?" She asks "I have somewhere I need to be."

"I never got my chemistry exam results."

"And you need them right now?"

"Um, yeah"

"Couldn't this wait till tomorrow? "

"Uh no, because my dad wants to see them before he leaves on his business trip to Korea."

Mrs. Wellington sighs audibly as she rolls her eyes and turns to go to her desk. As quickly as I can, I pull her ring of keys out of her coat pocket. I try so hard to stop them from jangling but more sound than I would've liked still escapes.

My shaking fingers fumble for the right one and I can feel my heart rate speed up.
She shuffles through papers at her desk for a minute.
I locate the right key.
She tuns to the shelf behind her and starts to rifle through some pages up there.
I'm sweating. It's making the keys harder to hold.
I start pulling the key round the ring.
She's mumbling under her breath as she opens a folder with my class name on it.
Crap.
I know bloody well that damn test isn't there and so will she in a few seconds.
The key is only half way round the ring.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
My fingers are trembling so much.
I nearly have the key off but then -
The. goddamn key ring slips out of my goddamn hands right at the last goddamn second.
You fucking idiot Winter.
I watch in horror as the keys fall as if in slow motion and hit the ground at the exact same moment as Mrs. Wellington turns around and says :

"Tell your dad I don't have it Wint- why are you on the floor?"

I slip the key into my pocket as I hop to my feet. "I uh, dropped something"

Mrs. Wellington gives me a weird look as she crosses to the door. I hold it open for her and as she passes I slip her key ring back into her pocket. I wait till she turns a corner in the corridor then lean against the door and breathe a sigh of relief. I did it. Barely.

*********************

Ok, so I know what you're thinking, and no, I do not usually pickpocket teachers just for kicks and today was no different. I have a theory, its probably dangerous but its for a good cause. In order to explain this effectively I should probably start at the beginning.

For as long as I can remember, I've had a bit of a problem with boredom. Nothing I ever learned in school challenged me. My dad stopped being able to answer my questions at the age of six. I found it difficult to make friends because of my introverted ways. So I turned to the internet, where I met people who were like me. People who shared their deep thoughts and theories with others in the hopes of improving them. I gladly offered my help to anyone with a problem. I started to get a bit of a reputation so I decided to start a blog. I answered my followers questions and designed products to help those with illnesses or disabilities. All for free. The thrill of actually using my intelligence to help people made it all worth the effort.

Recently, I got a message from a woman with a very rare illness. Everyone has cells that die, but they are always replaced by new ones. Because of this woman's illness her cells are unable to reproduce so she's spent all her money on the only form of treatment that doctors have: A regular injection of new healthy cells. Notice the word spent in that sentence. If this woman does not get more money or an alternative treatment she will run out of healthy cells and die. So thats where I come in, I've designed a serum that will regenerate her cells in the space of a minute and strengthen the ones that already exist. And when I say cells, I mean all of them. Skin, blood, the works.

Fast forward to me breaking into my chemistry lab, although technically, I'm just letting myself in. I carefully unpack my notes which have exact details on how I plan to make this thing. Then I fish around in ms. Wellington's desk for the keys to the cabinets and take out all the equipment I'm going to need. Next are the chemicals. The teachers are much more careful with keys to the supply room so I have to pick the lock (which I suck at by the way). After an eternity the lock is open and the chemicals are boiling and frothing. I'm wearing a mask and goggles. The effects of inhaling the fumes are not desirable. I lose track of time. All my focus is dedicated to the complexities of the task before me. After a while, there is only three steps left.
Pour beaker number one into boiling solvent at exactly 312 degrees Celsius otherwise the solutions will Not react properly. The result of the latter will not be desirable.
Then, I Must cool the solution until it reaches a temperature of 100 degrees - barely simmering. I then leave it at that exact temperature for five minutes. Any longer or shorter, temperature higher or lower and the results will definitely not be desirable.
Finally, I'll take it off and that is when I will realise if I've done the steps properly. However, undesirable the first results will be if things go wrong, this is much, much worse. Definitely undesirable times 100.

But it wont come to that. I'm much too careful.

Step one was a breeze.
I was halfway through step two when a sudden noise made me jump.

It was an owl.

Stupid owls mating in the middle of the night. You'd think a bird with silent flight would keep its trap shut too. But I guess I'm not that lucky.

Anyway, where was I? 
Oh shit. Where was I?

Oh yeah, cool solution. I carefully turn down the flame on the Bunsen burner and watch attentively as the thermometer level drops. And just before it cools too much I turn the flame back on and set the timer.

I take a minute to wipe the sweat off my forehead with my arm.

Step 2 is complete but I get this unshakeable feeling that I did something wrong. I go through all the steps in my head. No, I couldn't have. I'm much too careful. I did everything right, didn't I? Didn't I.

The timer goes off. The moment of truth.

I remove the beaker from the flame with a pair of tongs and hastily place it in an ice bath.
I wait.
The solution has turned into a clear, blue tinged serum.
It continues to bubble in the ice bath...
Shit.
Something is definitely wrong.
I slowly start to back away...

The serum bubbles furiously ...
Furiously...

A deafening roar resonates in my head and suddenly, I'm knocked off my feet and thrown against the back wall...