Chemistry by Jodi Lamm

maybe I’ll forget what I’ve already netted. I can spare Esmeralda by distracting myself. I can save her with chemistry.
    But my calculations are all wrong. My measurements are careless. Every time I open a book, I have to squint to see the words in it. A brilliant star dances on every page, and I know it’s not just my fever causing the hallucination. I can’t focus on anything. All I can think about is her kiss, how much it seemed to burn. Her hands around my neck, her tongue in my mouth.
    I close my book and start cleaning up the lab. It was useless coming here. I’ve already lost. I slip the book back onto its shelf and sink to the floor. Where is my cynicism, my distance, my strength? Where is the cool loathing that kept me sane all these years? Where is my armor and shield? She must have stolen them.
    I wrap my arms around my shoulders to stop my own trembling. I touch my forehead to the floor like I’m praying to a god, but it isn’t any god on my mind. If there is a devil, if he truly watches us and influences us, then he’s already taken me completely. All I can do is beg him to give me some relief. Give me Esmeralda. Just for one night, let her love me.
    The drumbeat of Phoebus’ party still throbs in my ears as though I never left. It’s so loud I can’t hear anything else. The light from that full moon still glows through my eyelids, red like slow-burning coals. I can’t shut it out. So it doesn’t surprise me at all when I catch the sound of Peter’s voice and realize he’s been talking to me all this time, though I haven’t heard or even seen him. It’s all a jumble, whatever he’s saying, but I catch the word Esmeralda and I’m snapped out of my hellish daze.
    I lift my head and blink. “What?”
    “Claude, are you okay?”
    I’ve been wallowing on the floor, so of course he would ask. “Just had a weird stomach cramp,” I say. “It’s better now. What were you saying?”
    Peter shakes his head. He doesn’t believe me, but whatever he’s about to say takes precedence, so he gives me the benefit of the doubt. “Esmeralda is missing.”
    Those three words are a flood; they wash me away. I never saw them coming, and I don’t know how to deal with them now that they’re here. “Don’t joke around, Peter.”
    “I’m not joking. She and Djali have been gone three nights in a row.”
    “Is that unusual?”
    “Yes!” He’s overwrought. “She always comes home by midnight every night. I live with her, so I know. She wouldn’t just stay away like this. Djali needs routine or she starts to shed.”
    I have no idea how to respond to this. In the first place, I’m horrified that Esmeralda is missing. In the second, I’m beginning to suspect Peter’s primary concern is for the goat. “Have you reported her missing?” I say.
    “How can I?” He throws up his hands, dramatic as always. “Who am I to her?”
    “Well, who’s taking care of her? Why haven’t they reported it?”
    “I don’t think anyone takes care of her. She’s always been by herself. The truth is I kind of suspect she’s in the country illegally, but I don’t know. It’s never been a problem until now. Damn that Phoebus. I swear this is all his fault.”
    I cock my head. “Phoebus?”
    He leans in. “You know he was stabbed at that party.”
    “Was he?” I hope my feigned ignorance is convincing.
    “Jesus, Claude, where have you been?” Peter reaches down and helps me to my feet. “Everyone’s talking about it. He was stabbed in the back with Esmeralda’s knife. The whole school thinks she did it, and the fact that no one has seen her since only confirms their suspicions. But I’m telling you it wasn’t her. She’s not like that. She just isn’t. Someone’s done something to her, Claude. I heard some of the guys on the soccer team swearing revenge. They say Phoebus is paralyzed for life; he got hit in the spinal cord, and he’ll never play again. They say she’s not going to get away with