Mouth to Mouth

Where Am I Suppossed to Go?

I carefully poor the mineral oil into my unknown solution. As soon as the oil hits the liquid, a bright layer of pink forms.

I can see my smile break across my face in the reflection of the flask.

“So according to this reaction, what do you have in your solution?” Mr. Andrews says with a smile on his face.

“Iodine,” I say with a smile back.

It’s about four o’clock in the afternoon, and school ended at 2:45. We started a lab today in class, but I fell behind when the centrifuge broke my test tube. Mr. Andrews had to recreate my solution, which took the whole class period.

“Thanks again sir for letting me stay after to work on the experiment. I probably wouldn’t have time to finish it in class tomorrow,” I say respectfully.

“Lana you know you are welcome to stay after whenever you want. I’m here every day anyway grading papers, so it’s no problem,” he replies.

I wave to him as I walk out of the room and to my locker right across the hall. Mr. Andrews has been my teacher since last year when I was a junior. I had him for chemistry, and now for my senior year I’ve made the decision to take AP Chemistry, which is a college level course. At the end of the year there will be a test and if I pass, I won’t have to take chemistry in college.

I don’t have the best home life and my parents won’t help pay for my college. Speak of the devil I say in my head as I hear my phone ring and see it’s my mother.

“Hello mother,” I answer.

“Hey hun, where are you. Did I forget to pick you up again?” She slurs.

“No mom, remember I’m a senior now and drive myself to school,” I reply.

“I knew that. I was just calling to tell you that I’m having a friend over tonight and you should probably not come home. I might make a lot of noise,” she hiccups.

“Where am I supposed to go? I stayed at Courtney’s last night. Her mom won’t let me stay another,” I whine.

“That’s not my problem,” she says in a slightly stern voice, “I’m your mother and I’m telling you to stay away.” Click.

“Great,” I whisper to myself while throwing my school work into my bag.

“Is everything alright?” I hear from behind me. I grab my chest with my clenched hand and push down a scream. I turn around and see Mr. Andrews looking down at me with a concerned expression.

"Shit you scared me," I breathe.

"It might be after hours, but I'm still your teacher and I don't tolerate students swearing in school."

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to eavesdrop?” I ignore his previous statement with a smile.

“I was just locking up the room when I happened to overhear your conversation. Did you need me to do something,” he asks.

Mr. Andrews has been my teacher for almost two years now, and he is well aware of my neglect at home. He doesn’t know a lot of details, but he understands I live with a mother who doesn’t care and no father. My dad died when I was 15 from a car accident. He was on his way home and never made it. A drunk driver got to him first.

“No it’s fine. I just have some stuff to figure out,” I say with a frown.

“Okay. If you’re sure you’re okay. I’ll see you tomorrow Lana,” He says.

I don’t answer.