As everyone bottlenecked around the lab door, shuffling in single file, Sidney realized that she recognized a few familiar faces. There was a guy and a girl from her high school. She didn't know them very well. Jared, and perhaps Nicole? She wasn't a hundred percent sure of their names. They had graduated a year ahead of her. But there was no mistaking that they knew Sidney. The girl stared at her and elbowed Jared, whispering something in his ear. He looked up, and after a moment, gave her a hesitant smile and nod. Sidney smiled back, awkwardly. She hoped it didn't look like a grimace. She was probably the only person in the world who needed to practice smiling to get it right, she did it so rarely.
Fortunately, there were a lot of people in between them so Sidney didn't have to worry about small talk. Once they entered the lab, they took the opposite end of the same long, black counter but did not say a word to her.
It was a complicated room full of all sorts of equipment one would expect in a college laboratory. There were fume hoods all along the side of one wall, and cabinets full of beakers and graduated cylinders in every volumetric size imaginable. The lab assistants must have been doing some serious inventory and cleaning because the entire back of the room had been gutted, and all manner of equipment lay out on tables. Sidney recognized centrifuges and digital scales, but most of it was alarmingly foreign. At the center of the room was a complicated glassware apparatus set up under a Bunsen burner. The loops and bulbs of glass with bubbling liquid being heated over a flame looked like ancient alchemy. A girl exclaimed, "Whoa, I feel like I'm in the dungeons at Hogwarts, learning potions."
"I suppose that makes me Professor Snape?" A cheerful voice answered from the door, startling everyone. "Of course, ordinary chemistry classes are never in the basement," Dr. Crick added as he walked in. "Dungeons make for an eerie atmosphere, but not an ideal laboratory location. Chemistry labs are almost always on the top floor of a science hall - that's a bit of trivia your legs will come to appreciate when the elevator is closed for maintenance. Does anyone know why a chemistry lab would be built on the top floor?" Crick leaned back on his heels and looked around expectantly.
"In case it explodes. It won't take out the other floors if it's at the top." A voice answered brightly from just behind Sidney.
She turned and was surprised to see that it was puppet show boy who had answered. His blue eyes met her gaze and he waggled his eyebrows at her as he squeezed an old Bunsen burner lighter in his hand. Tiny sparks flickered a little close for comfort and Sidney stepped forward with a scowl.
"Very good, Mr. Summers. Let's hope we never have to put that to the test. Though, if your work last year is to be any indication, we should all review the locations of the fire extinguishers."
There were a few nervous titters, and Dr. Crick naturally segued into a lecture about lab safety. It was not your typical lecture. Crick was sure to point out the many ways the items in the lab could kill or seriously maim you. After a particularly energetic reenactment of how one could die by leaning too far over an open centrifuge, they were all reminded to never wear a scarf or necktie in the lab. There were dozens of other rules when it came to clothing, and even how to wear one's hair. Sidney was tempted to write them down, but no one else had so much as picked up a pencil. She wondered nervously if this was all general knowledge. Did everyone learn this during the general chemistry classes that Sidney had tested out of?
"Okay! Let's pair everyone up. Once you have a partner, go ahead and take out all of your glassware and equipment from your drawer so we can take inventory. You will need to replace whatever needs replacing and wash whatever needs washing. I can't guarantee the former owners of the drawer were not complete slobs."
Sidney was just breathing a sigh of relief to learn that lab partners were decided by the professor, when Crick called out, "Miss Moreau, raise your hand so we know where you are. Ah, there she is, Connor Summers, your lab partner awaits. Now where is Mr. Kirkpatrick...?"
Puppet show boy. Great. Sidney had acquired the biggest goofball for her lab partner.
Connor Summers jogged over to the empty stool next to Sidney. "Ello, ello," he offered cheerily.
"Hi." Sidney returned a small smile, hoping it didn't look pained. She nodded toward the large, open drawer. "I guess this is ours."
Up close, the normally oblivious Sidney couldn't help but notice that Connor Summers was seriously good looking. He wasn't model-handsome, but his boyish good looks complimented his demeanor perfectly. Sidney also noticed that his eyes, which were bright and piercing from a distance, were an extraordinary smoky blue gray up close. His dark espresso hair really set them off, and Sidney found herself staring at him like an idiot as he pulled supplies from the drawer. When Connor looked up, Sidney still hadn't made a move to help, so he took charge amiably.
"I'll go ahead and start washing everything, just to be on the safe side. You can dry and take inventory as we go." He smiled at her and Sidney realized he had dimples. She didn't think she had ever noticed anyone's dimples before, but for some reason, Connor's were outrageously distracting. She refrained from glowering at him and his ostentatious good looks and turned her attention to the inventory list.
"So, are you a freshman?" He filled the silence.
"Yeah." Sidney answered simply. One-word answers usually deterred people from trying to strike up conversations, so they comprised the majority of her verbal interactions.
"We don't see a lot of freshman in O-chem classes. I hear they get scared away easily."
Sidney bristled but said nothing.
"Ever written a lab-report before?"
Sidney scrunched her face in confusion. "Yeah. Of course."
"Just curious. Some kids don't ever learn how to write a proper one before getting to college."
Kids? Seriously? "I learned."
"Good, because that's usually what kills your GPA in a lab science class. You have to be able to write well. It's half the grade." Connor pressed his lips into a thin line and looked at her appraisingly, as though he could judge her abilities from her appearance.
Sidney didn't know how to take this advice so she ignored him and concentrated on drying glassware. She couldn't help but feel both insulted and a bit out of her element. Of course Connor wanted assurance that she could write. His grade depended on her abilities, too. Sidney wondered if he saw a barely-out-of-highschool, naive girl who was in over her head when he looked at her. And maybe she was. Self doubt began to needle at her.
Connor didn't seem to approve of silence on principle and started to whistle a loud, erratic tune to himself as he worked. Eventually they finished and Crick came around to pick up their inventories and replace any broken pieces. "That's all I have for you today, guys. Just make sure you get your partner's contact info before you leave. Labs will begin in earnest next week. You'll want to make sure you have each other's numbers, so if one of you is ever absent, your lab partner can hound you with texts until you show up. No one wants to do a lab by themselves."
Connor turned towards Sidney, his cell phone in hand. Her stomach dropped and she wondered if she would ever get through a day without some sort of stressful encounter. She decided honesty would be the best approach. This was college, after all, not high school. These were mature and enlightened individuals.
"I don't have a cell phone."
Connor stared at her, as though he wasn't sure if he heard her right. "Oh."
"You can have my dorm landline, though."
"Wow. People still have those? Okay." His words were good-natured. He didn't seem derisive at all, simply surprised. But Sidney couldn't help but feel embarrassed that her strangeness, her otherness still persistently followed her to college – a place where she was supposed to have a clean slate and new start.
He stared at her like she was some strange, alien creature as she wrote the number on a slip of paper and handed it to him. She knew from prior observation that people generally swapped phones and typed in their numbers, but she would reveal her ignorance if she had to try and figure out how to save a number onto Connor's phone right in front of him.
"Ah." He grabbed a pen and wrote his own number in her lab notebook. "So, are you like anti-smart phones? Worried technology is going to interfere with your ability to connect with the real world or something?"
"No." Sidney sensed immediately that she should have just said yes, but she was feeling flustered again.
Connor stared at her a bit more, and then his face broke into a disarmingly charming lopsided grin. "I get it. You just don't want me to have your cell number. It's okay, I understand. I know I've got stalker serial killer written all over me, but I promise I'll only bother you when it comes to O-chem. Even serial killers know not to murder a lab partner and get saddled with all that work themselves."
"Thanks for confirming what I suspected, but that's the only number I have. My roommate will take a message for me if I'm out. See you on Thursday." She turned on her heel and left for her next class. Wasn't chemistry supposed to attract the socially awkward, quiet, nerdy guys? How did she always manage to get saddled with insufferable boys who liked to hear themselves talk?