Page 33 of Mud, Love, and Chemistry

Sounds like a walk in the park. Or a downhill hike.

Smiling at my cleverness, I take my seat and slouch down, allowing my tense muscles to relax. I’m already feeling better, and for the next sixty minutes, I can focus on something outside of my own personal drama.

Professor Duncan walks in, his long ponytail swinging behind his head. His untucked brown and orange flannel barely covers his Grateful Dead t-shirt as he takes a seat at the desk. As he scans the room, his head bobs. “Hey, cool,” he says in his laid-back tone. “I’m glad nobody checked out of class from last week. That’s a good sign.”

A few students chuckle, myself included.

“I know you all had a lot of questions about the hikes, like scheduling and stuff.” He pulls a paper from his satchel and holds it up. “I made a list of dates for the class hike, which I’ll post on the board so you can sign up for one after class.” He lays the paper on the desk. “But I do want to talk more in depth about the hike you have to facilitate.”

I perk up for this information, sitting straighter in my seat. My mind is already lit up with ideas for trails, most of which Lisa and I have hiked already. I’ll take her with me, and this will be a breeze.

“You will not be picking your own partners.”

What? Well, crap. I slouch again.

Professor Duncan takes a seat on the top of his desk. “A lot of students want to pick a friend, roommate, or relative who they know will grade them highly, no matter what happens. That’s sort of like cheating, dudes. So, to circumvent that problem, I offer extra credit in my other, non-hiking classes to anyone who volunteers to be a hiking partner. That way, your grades are more organic.”

Confused mumbles fill the air as Professor Duncan continues. “Your homework this week will be to figure out the days you are available and to start thinking about what trail you want to hike. If you don’t have a favorite trail, might I suggest good old Google.

“Once I have your availabilities, I’ll pair you up with a volunteer and give you their email address so you can get the ball rolling. So, don’t wait too long. The weather can get real nasty, real quick in the fall.” He gets up from the desk, grabs a dry-erase marker, and steps to the whiteboard. “Now, let’s get started on our topic for today, hiking preparedness.

As the professor talks and writes, I can’t help the excitement bubbling in my gut. I love hiking, and I love a challenge. Sure, I’m disappointed I can’t take Lisa, Jackie, or Hannah, but this will be a good exercise to prove myself.

I just hope whoever I get paired with isn’t a stick in the mud.

***

Over the next few weeks, I lean into the wind, so to speak. Instead of going on like Sam doesn’t exist, which was never going to be successful, I have learned to tune him out. When he tries to talk to me, I only acknowledge him with a curt nod. If he gets too close to me, I simply walk away. It’s been working wonders.

The hardest part has been lab. He sits right across from me, so no matter what I do, he’s always in my line of sight. At least he hasn’t been wearing his glasses lately. I hate how sexy he looks with them on.

And Maya won’t stop gushing about how smart he is. Any time she’s stuck, she turns to him. It’s hard to ignore someone who’s always being brought up in conversation, even if that person soaks it up like it’s the last glass of water on Earth. I can hardly concentrate on my work with his swelling ego crowding the room.

I don’t have many options for these moments. Micah isn't a great conversationalist, not that I have a reason to engage with him. I know what I'm doing and my answers are always correct. He prefers to keep to his own work anyway, so I usually start setting up for the next problem. I don’t ever look at Sam. It’s difficult not to, especially when he compliments my work, but I have to stay in control.

Prepping for my hike has helped keep me occupied. I turned in my available dates right away, and Professor Duncan matched me with a volunteer the following week. I emailed the person that day. Typing “imagine a radioactive dragon” into the address field made me feel a little silly, but it was nice to know I’d have something in common with this person.

It gave me hope that this hike would be enjoyable, but I sent that email a little over a week ago. I’ve heard nothing since. If I don’t hear anything by tomorrow, I’ll email the professor. I can’t be docked points if my partner bails, right?

In O-Chem lecture, Professor St. James goes over our exams from the prior week. Her tests are always through an online platform where it’s available Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, but we only get four hours from when we log in to complete it. A lot of students love this format because it allows them to use whatever resources they want, and the time frame is usually more than enough.

I know it was enough for me. I finished in under three hours, so I had plenty of time to double check my answers. Not that I needed a lot of double checking. I always make sure to hunker down and study every day as soon as a test is announced.

Dr. St. James begins class by handing out our results. “I have to say, I am sorely disappointed in your exams,” she says. “The passing percentage was the lowest I’ve ever seen.My stomach wrenches as she reaches my desk. She lays my result paper face-down before stepping to the next person. I lick my lips over and over, scared to even flip the page.

But I have to know.

Slowly, I peel the paper from the desk and flip it over. All the tension oozes from me as I stare at my ninety-seven percent circled several times. With a satisfied nod, I perk back up.

Professor St. James finishes handing out the results, and heads to the front of the room. “The majority of you are going to have to work very hard the rest of the semester to make up for it.” And that’s all she leaves us with.

When the lecture is over, and people start filing out, the professor catches me as I walk by her desk. “Brynn, may I have a word with you?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” I make sure to turn my body away from the door so I don’t chance seeing Sam.

“Just a second,” she says, and proceeds to sit quietly until everyone has left the room. “I want to ask you for a favor.”

My face lights up. A favor? From me? Professor St. James is my favorite teacher, so I’m inclined to do whatever she needs. “Sure, what is it?”

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