Don't Kiss Your Lab Partner

by Lucy McConnell

  I entered the computer room with a cloud over my head and repeating the mantra: I can do anything for a week. That included taking Nicole’s potshots and biting my tongue.

  John came in a few minutes later, and all my anger at Nicole melted away into the puddle of things that didn’t matter. He smiled at me and winked before reaching our blob.

  I grinned back. I loved that we had a secret. I loved that he’d snuck into my room last night and couldn’t leave without kissing me goodbye. I loved that we’d sat next to each other on the bed and programmed the crap out of this assignment. Which, when it all added up, probably meant that I loved him, too.

  I clamped my hands around that thought and refused to let it grow or take over my brain. I mean, what good would it do me to admit it to myself or to him? It wasn’t like we could do anything about it. Not for a while, at least. It was better to just place a hold on my feelings.

  He settled across from me and brushed his hand across my fingers. “Morning, bear.”

  “Bear?”

  “Because of the insane amount of gummy bears you ate last night.” He poked my arm. “I expect you to live to be 200 years old because of all the gelatin coursing through your organs.”

  I giggled. “That’s been the plan all along.”

  He reached into his backpack and pulled out a half-pound bag.

  My mouth dropped open.

  “To replenish your supply.” He set the bag on my desk, his ears going pink.

  I snatched it up and held it close to my chest, making the plastic crinkle loudly. “I will cherish every one of them right before I eat it.”

  He laughed.

  “Was your mom upset you were gone last night?”

  “She has no idea.”

  “How is that possible?” My brain quickly ran through scenarios of how I would sneak out. Disarming the security system would be the hard part. I wondered if Mom had tampered with the coding—if not, I could get around it easy.

  “She sleeps with a mask and ear plugs. Her beauty sleep is important to her.”

  The bell rang, and class started. I tucked the gummy bears away for later. Mr. Hubert had groups come to his desk and present their changes and improvements to their assignments.

  I thoroughly appreciated his feedback earlier in the week and felt that it had helped us create a much better product. When it was our turn, we finished each other’s sentences and talked over one another in excitement.

  Mr. Hubert maintained a bemused expression.

  I chastened myself for being unprofessional, but I was so excited about what the app had done and could do for other teens.

  “And what happens if there isn’t a match for you?” Mr. Hubert asked.

  I turned white. We hadn’t thought about this at all.

  John smiled easily. “That can happen for several reasons. Perhaps the person didn’t like their first two matches—maybe they’d dated before and it didn’t work out, or one of them was their best friend’s crush or something.”

  I stared at him. Where was this coming from?

  “If that happens, we’ve added a blind date option. You are matched with the person who you’re most likely to have a good time with, based on our previously set parameters, and can communicate with them—but neither of you know the other’s identity until you meet for the dance.”

  “Did either of you test this?”

  We shook our heads.

  “It was added last night.” John shuffled papers and handed him the pages of code. “We’ll have to run some tests, but I’m confident it will work out.”

  I picked my jaw up off the floor.

  “And did you two use the app to find dates?”

  I swallowed. “John was matched, and I took your advice and asked someone who didn’t have a date—a ‘pay it forward’ thing.”

  “Good for you.” Mr. Hubert looked down at his notes.

  John turned on me. “You didn’t tell me you had a date,” he whispered.

  “Kevin.” I gave him a meaningful stare. “It’s just as friends.”

  His shoulders dropped, and he frowned.

  “You didn’t tell me about the blind date option.”

  “I thought about it after you fell asleep.”

  I couldn’t believe he’d coded all that last night. It must have taken him hours. “Genius,” I whispered.

  He squeezed my hand and then let go.

  Mr. Hubert lifted his eyes from the page and steepled his fingers. “Where do you see this going in a year, five years?”

  John finished up by talking about expanding into other areas of Washington and then the country. School dances were universal.

  We finished the interview just as the bell rang.

  “Hey, I think we nailed it. We might even have a shot at his recommendation for the TACS award.” I bumped John lightly as we made our way back to our desks.

  He nodded. “It’s great.”

  It didn’t sound great. “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of you going to the dance with Kevin.”

  I jerked my chin back. “Why?”

  He looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Because I want to go with you.”

  “Well, I want to go with you, and you’re going with Nicole.” Who was quickly becoming a supervillain in my book. “At least Kevin is a nice guy and knows we’re only friends. Nicole is going to throw herself at you all night.”

  “I can handle Nicole.” His face grew dark.

  “And I can handle myself.”

  “I know. You’re really great at that.”

  He left me standing there wondering what he meant. Being independent wasn’t a bad thing. Besides, I was going with Kevin, so neither of us would mope around the dorms all night. And I wanted to see the fruits of my labor. All those happy couples on the dance floor would be because of something I created.

  That should have carried me on a cloud, but all I could think about was John’s sad green eyes and the way he’d walked—like he’d resigned himself to something.

  It set me on edge, and I couldn't find a way down.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “We were so lucky they had the perfect dress.” Sydney dug through her purse and came up with a tube of lip gloss. She’d started wearing it more and more, said it had drawn Anthony’s eyes to her lips and then he’d kissed her.

  Who knew cosmetics had such devious powers? And who knew my BFF understood them? Her shy, geeky nature had disappeared, and this new, confident woman who could find her way around the fragrance counter with ease had taken her place.

  I stopped, laid my garment bag over the counter, and gave her a hug. “You’re incredible. I just have to tell you.”

  She chuckled. “You’re pretty great too.”

  I heard a familiar voice and turned to see my mom and dad walking through the women’s shoe racks. I hadn’t spoken to them in a week, and I hadn’t gone home for brunch on Sunday. They’d sent me individual texts, telling me how much they missed me and hoped I had a good week.

  The fact that they didn’t apologize, nor ask for an apology, meant that they knew we’d all played a part in the fight. Working things out was an in-person deal at our house. But this was the longest we’d ever gone between argument and resolution.

  It weighed on me.

  Mom had done her academic check-in through text as well, noting that my grade on my presentation wasn’t what we’d expected. I’d quickly explained that it was preliminary and John and I were working on it. Adding his name to the text was a tender moment for me, a first introduction. At the time, I’d believed we’d worked things out between us—that we had a plan. Now, I wished I hadn’t added him, because they would surely ask about him by name when I finally had the courage to meet up with them.

  I watched as Dad put his hand on Mom’s lower back. It was such a small thing, but it spoke volumes. They looked at several pairs of shoes, and then Mom stopped, got to her tippy-toes, an
d whispered something in Dad’s ear. Their eyes met, and a connection was there that I hadn’t seen before.

  They were never like this in front of me.

  “That’s my parents.” I snagged my dress.

  “I’m going to look at mascara. I’ll meet up with you in a minute?” Sydney was already walking backward. She got along great with my parents, but I’d told her all about the fight, and I guessed she didn’t want to stand there awkwardly while we worked it out in the department store.

  “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” I hooked my finger through the hanger and slung the garment bag over my shoulder.

  “Hey,” I said as I rounded the end of the shoe aisle.

  Their mouths dropped open. “Adelle?” Mom’s gaze flicked from my face to the garment back and back. “What are you doing here?”

  Dad dropped his hand from her side.

  “Shopping. I needed a dress for homecoming.”

  Mom’s eyes misted over. “You’re going to the dance?”

  I hadn’t told them. The hope and devastation swirling together in one look told me I’d robbed her of something important to moms.

  “With John?” asked Dad gruffly. Leave it to Dad to be the one to throw the first dart into my heart. I’d hoped to get through this without having to bring him up. Also, I could already see Dad patting himself on the back for making us have lab partners, and it irked me.

  “No. With a friend.”

  Mom’s eyes went back to the bag over my shoulder. “C-can I see the dress?”

  “Sure.” I hung it on the end of a rack and unzipped the plastic cover. Black and hot-pink tulle and lace tumbled out. “I wasn’t sure about the colors, but it works.”

  She reached out and reverently touched the hem. “I’ll bet it does.” She put one arm around me and squeezed. “You’re going to be so beautiful.”

  I paused, waiting for Dad to remind her that we didn’t say things like that. One of his big theories in raising daughters was that you don’t discuss their—or anyone else’s—beauty or lack of it, because then a woman thinks her value is in something that will fade over time.

  I got it—on an intellectual level. But since I was a teenager, Mom’s compliment filled something inside of me. Besides Sydney, and occasionally John, people didn’t say nice things to me. I had Jenny in gym class, and she now called me Klutzo every time she lapped me on the track. And Nicole, who made fun of me at the same time she talked up the app that John had programmed. And then there were teachers, who, though they were kind, were always looking for holes in my work and telling me how to fix them.

  Sometimes a girl just needed a compliment. Getting one from my mom was huge for me, and my eyes filled with tears. “Thanks.”

  Mom slid her arm down and grabbed my hand. “Will you come to the house to get ready? Your date can pick you up there and we can take pictures.”

  I hesitated.

  “Listen, pumpkin.” Dad stepped into our small circle. “I didn’t know I was putting so much pressure on you.”

  I lifted a shoulder.

  “Talk to us.” Dad nodded, his head slightly lowered to tell me he was giving me his undivided attention.

  “Having two hugely successful parents is enough pressure all on its own.”

  They exchanged looks.

  I plowed ahead. Now that I’d opened the door, there was so much to spill out. “And you never act like you’re in love—so I thought … you know … you weren’t.”

  Dad brought his palm to his cheek. “I had no idea. We were trying to respect you and not make you uncomfortable.”

  “Dad!”

  He lifted a shoulder. “You used to tell us we were gross when we kissed.”

  “I have no memory of that.” I held up both my hands. But then one surfaced. I was seven, and boys were gross. I’d walked into the movie room to find them kissing and made a huge production out of it. I was seven. Dad should have known that at that stage, every kiss is gross—it didn’t matter if it was your parents or not.

  Mom touched my arm. “Regardless, we should have just been ourselves. I’m sorry that you thought there wasn’t love here.” She motioned between herself and Dad. “But I hope you always felt there was love here.” She made a circle including all of us.

  “I’ve never doubted your love for me.” I laughed heavily.

  They wrapped me in a hug and then stepped back.

  “I’m sorry for what I said, but I don’t want to be part of your article.”

  Dad waved me off. “I’m not writing it. Or, if I do, I’ll set something up with a client and have them sign an agreement.”

  That was so typically Dad that I laughed.

  “So, Saturday?” Mom asked hopefully.

  I took a deep breath. “Well, we’ll have to start early.”

  “We?” She blinked.

  “Yeah, a mother-daughter spa day to get ready for the dance will take all morning.”

  She hugged me once more. “I can’t wait.”

  I couldn’t either.

  We said goodbye, and I went to find Sydney. She sprayed a mist and walked into it, closing her eyes and inhaling with a look of rapture on her face. “Oh! Hey.” She set the bottle down. “How’d it go?”

  “Good. Really, really good.” I smiled, thinking of my parents holding hands on the car ride home. I had a warm feeling inside—one that told me everything was right in my world.

  Almost everything. I still missed John. For as much as I was looking forward to Saturday now, I dreaded it too. I just didn’t know how I was going to smile through the night watching Nicole plastered to his side. The thought made my breakfast curdle.

  But I’d do my best. I could do anything for three hours.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Saturday was great. Mom and I had massages, pedicures, manicures, hair masks, and I’m not even sure what else. All I knew was that I felt soft and pretty when Kevin picked me up.

  He met my parents and was respectful. It wasn’t the nerve-racking moment I’d pictured when I’d thought I was going with John. Maybe because I didn’t care as much if they liked Kevin.

  Kevin drove us back to the school, and we parked out by the covered polo arena. Cinderella-like carriages lined up and waited for students. The theme for the dance was “A Night in Camelot,” and the committee had been stressed for weeks. I’d heard they started planning in the summer, long before school was in session.

  We ended up sharing a carriage with the new girl, Jovi, and Nile Wilcox. Nile had only been at Billionaire Academy for a year. His father was running for governor. Jovi’s dad was the lead singer in the hugely popular band Louder.

  “Hey, guys.” Nile made introductions and held the door open for the rest of us to climb in. The seats were leather and cold. I sat stiffly next to Kevin. If I’d been with John, I would have snuggled up to him for warmth.

  “You’re friends with Emery, right?” I asked Jovi. “She’s in my programming class.”

  Jovi snapped her fingers. “You’re the one who made the DanceDate app. She’s with her date right now. I’m so glad it worked out for her.”

  “Me too. Emery’s great.”

  Jovi smiled at me, a sense of pride in her best friend showing through. I liked her even more.

  When the carriage lurched to a stop, we scrambled out and made our way across the drawbridge. There was a false moat complete with lily pads and croaking frogs. You wouldn’t think frogs were romantic, but the lighting and the trees arching over the entrance—complete with drawbridge—made their low croaking magical.

  I gasped as we entered into a knights’ tent. Above our heads was a white ceiling with thousands of fairy lights. Along the right wall was an ice sculpture of a knight fighting a dragon. It was huge! I rubbed my hands up and down my arms just thinking about how cold it must be.

  Our school flags draped from the edges of the “tent.” We were the knights, so the decoration worked. Plus, the administration never missed an opportunity to foster
school pride. The wall opposite had a buffet table. There was a castle background, as if it were set off in the distance, nestled within rolling hills.

  I was enchanted and spun in a circle, feeling like a princess. As I slowed, my eyes locked with John’s across the room. He was by the dragon sculpture, his arm around Nicole. She held it in place with her hand.

  Every good feeling drained out of me like hot water through a cauldron. Left behind were the spaghetti strands of my happiness.

  Ugh! This was medieval torture. I shouldn’t have come.

  Kevin said something, and I turned to see him watching Jennica dance with Terrance. They had their foreheads together and were centimeters away from kissing.

  Okay, so things could have been worse.

  “Kevin? Let’s dance.” I dragged him onto the floor, far enough away from Nicole and John that we wouldn’t have to see them every time we spun in a small circle.

  I did my best to ask him questions about theater, choir, and even his car. We talked easily. The “no pressure, I’m not worried if you like me thing” was nice.

  We’d managed to take our minds off the people we wished we were with for about an hour. Our trip to the fountain, where we filled fluted cups with whatever bubbly mixture poured out, was interrupted by the student body president and resident heartbreaker, Cade Carlisle tapping on the mic.

  “Hey, everyone. It’s time to crown our homecoming king and queen. Would the royal court please come up here?” He waved his hand to indicate they needed to line up in front of the band.

  They did. Kevin and Jennica were right in the middle. They were an odd couple to look at, because he was so much taller than her. I hoped Kevin consoled himself with the fact that Terrance probably got a sore back from bending down to kiss her. I didn’t mention it, though.

  I glanced around the semicircle of students and caught John and Nicole out of the corner of my eye. I was kind of surprised that they hadn’t been nominated for the court. They were the most popular couple. Then again, John wouldn’t have wanted that. He probably resented all the selfies Nicole took. Like the one she was taking now, using him as a background. She was just like his mom. I rolled my eyes and concentrated on the announcement.