I tried for a scoff. "Oh? So you've got something against cookies?"
"Me? Nah." He gave me a rude look. "Just people who make them."
My gaze narrowed. "I hope you're talking about me, because if you mean my grandma—"
Once again, the lighter appeared in my face. Without flicking it on, he asked, "You sure you don't need a light?"
I glared at the lighter and then at him. "Trust me. I'm sure."
With cold defiance, he flicked it on, anyway. The flame wasn't terribly close, not even within cigarette-lighting distance, but it was annoying. No doubt, it was meant to be.
He was trying to goad me. That much was obvious.
This shouldn't have been a surprise.
When the list of lab partners had been posted three weeks ago, Brody hadn't been any happier than I was.
I knew why, too. Unlike me, he never took any of it seriously. Oh sure, he took all of the advanced classes, but his grades were lackluster at best.
Between cutting class and missing half of his homework, he surely would've flunked out entirely, if only he didn't have this annoying habit of acing all of his tests.
But me? I had to study. Hard.
I gave a silent scoff. But that was Brody for you. I'd known him for nearly four years now, ever since I'd moved in with my grandparents just before my freshman year.
Turns out, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Unlike my parents, my grandparents actually liked having me around. And I liked being around. Plus, this gave me the stability to try for a scholarship.
And my parents? Well, they got their freedom, I guess.
Let's just say, parenting wasn't their thing.
When I considered how lucky I felt just to be standing in this particular school, it made Brody's casual attitude all the more maddening.
He nudged the flame a tad closer, as if preparing to light my face on fire.
I told him, "You know that's not allowed, right?"
Talk about a massive understatement.
With a laugh, he finally flicked off the lighter and lowered it once again to his side. Normally, I liked his laugh, even if I'd never admit it. But today, it sounded all wrong, laced with cruelty rather than humor.
His mouth twisted as he said, "Relax. I'm not gonna burn your cookies."
For some reason, his words sounded vaguely suggestive and just a little bit insulting.
I stared up at him. "I don't get it," I said. "If you were just gonna be a jackass, why'd you bother to show up at all?"
With no trace of laughter, he replied, "Because I told you I would."
"So?"
"So I always do what I say."
"Oh, really?" I scoffed. "Do you always do it seventeen minutes late?"
His mouth tightened. "Better late than never."
It was so easy for him to say. Unlike me, he got away with everything. Still, I couldn’t resist saying, "Has it ever occurred to you that if you just applied yourself, you'd be getting all A's?"
"Has it ever occurred to you that it's none of your business?"
Yes. It had, actually.
Still, I had to ask, "But what about college?"
"What about it?"
"Aren't you worried you won't get in?"
With another scoff, he replied, "Hell no."
His attitude grated. Gee, it must be nice to be so confident.
But probably he was right. No doubt, he'd ace some assessment test and get into whatever college he wanted without even trying. With as brilliant as he was, he'd probably get a scholarship, too.
Thinking of my own scholarship, I pulled out the lab key – the one I'd wheedled out of Mister Chesterfield after school on Friday. As I inserted the key into the lock, I couldn’t resist muttering, "Just try not to blow anything up, alright?"
I'd opened the door barely a crack when that stupid lighter flared again. This was followed by something infinitely worse – a gigantic flash of light, loud and scorching hot.
With one giant boom, the lab practically exploded, sending me and Brody reeling backward as the door flew off its hinges. Brody tackled me to the ground, as if he were trying to smother me with his own body.
Around us, I smelled smoke and chemicals and burnt hair. My mind reeled, and my body shuddered. I gave Brody a frantic push. "Get off me!"
His voice was low in my ear. "Not yet."
With a string of curses, I eventually pushed him aside, only to realize that the burnt hair was my own. My face. Oh, my God. I reached up to touch it, half expecting to find it melted or something.
But it was fine.
Or maybe not – because when I looked to Brody, he stared at me like I'd just turned into some sort of goblin. I was almost crying when I asked, "How bad is it?"
He hesitated way too long before saying, "Not too bad. You're okay."
Was I?
I felt okay. Once again, I reached up to touch my face. That's when I realized something. My eyebrows – they weren't quite there. I looked up to my bangs and frowned in momentary confusion.
My bangs were still there, except they were a whole lot shorter and singed on the ends.
But it wasn't until I looked at the smoldering ruins of the lab itself that I realized how close both of us had come to losing a lot more than eyebrows.
Later on, investigators would determine that the explosion had been caused by a leak in the gas line that fed the Bunsen burners. After being closed for hours, the small lab had filled with flammable gas.
All it needed was a spark.
But it could've been so much worse. If we'd been inside the lab when the flame had caught, probably neither one of us would've lived to tell about it.
So I tried to be thankful – even as Brody and I were both suspended for two full weeks, which was a lot better than the school's initial threat to kick us out entirely. There'd even been some talk of us being sued for damages, in spite of the fact that the gas leak itself was hardly
