FIVE.
REBOOT.The great thing about having no friends is that you don’t owe anyone an explanation when you get to school at 6 in the morning, ditch all your classes, and spend the entire day in the lab.
It’s honestly a blessing that only six people in this place go to the science wing. Academics aren’t really big here, which is ironic for a school ranked so high. No, in Windsong, people care about lacrosse, shopping, lacrosse, what ______ did with _______ at the party last Saturday, and interning at Daddy’s company for the resume.
Oh, and lacrosse.
God, I hate sports culture.
As soon as I arrive at the lab, I lock all the doors. Is that a fire hazard? Maybe.
But honestly, at this point, I really wouldn’t mind if I died. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with any of this stuff anymore.
After strapping on a pair of goggles and pulling on a safety suit, I get to work.
Man, this lab really does have everything. After programming a holographic model of what I want my amulet to look like on a lab computer, I get to collecting the solutions and solid elements I need for my object. According to MOE, my final product should be an ovalish stone.
“Okay,” I exhale. “Let’s do this.”
Hours pass. I hammer out the magnesium base and neutralize the necessary superacid in a PTFE beaker (after melting several glass beakers, like a complete ). However, when it comes time for me to attempt to replicate the fission of a hydrogen atom with an artificial substitute, I end up blowing up several test tubes, almost setting my hands on fire, and destroying all of my work. Groaning, I slam my head into the wall several times.
“,” I mutter. Back to Square One.
This is my 4th magnesium base. This time, I don’t melt any beakers when creating my superacid.
When the janitor came in 9 hours ago, telling me I had to leave, I was still trying to figure out how to elevate the goddamn meson levels.
After weaving a long, elaborate story about how I would fail my science fair project if he kicked me out, I was still trying to figure out how to elevate the goddamn meson levels.
And now, at 2:48 AM, I am still trying to figure out how to elevate the mothering meson levels.
“There has to be something,” I groan, flipping through the pages of MOE. “This book had to have been written before the first hydrogen atom had been split. How the did they do it back then?”
That’s simple. This book constantly references the usage of magic to “jumpstart” the creation of new magical objects.
But how in god’s name am I supposed to just find some pentaquarks lying around?
. Think, Joo, think.
I need a break. I hop off my stool and pace around the room, stretching out my limbs. After this is all over, I’m taking the longest nap-
“Ah,” I wince, accidentally grazing over the bandage on my upper arm.
“How has it still not healed yet?” I mumble, running my fingers over the wound-
Something clicks.
Holy . How could I be so stupid?
The missing door. The odd atmosphere shifts whenever I’m around Taehyung. The fact that my arm was basically drenched in blood after Cloe just ran her nails over my skin. The strange, hair-rising sensation this entire town gives me.
And magic.
What if they’re all connected?
I swallow.
After grabbing a sterilized Q-tip from a drawer, I unwrap the bandage around my arm. A partially-healed, crusty cluster of scabbed scratches greet me.
Tom put some sort of sterilizing solution on my arm when I was first injured. Assuming that cleansed the area of any trace of DNA remaining... well, this whole thing’s a crapshot at best, but it’s worth a go. I swipe my wound with the Q-tip, swipe the Q-tip over a pre-poured agar plate, and then stick the petri dish in an incubation oven. For good measure, I prepare 25 more petri dishes as well.
Just in case my hypothesis turns out to be correct, and Cloe really did use some sort of magic when she touched me and there are some remnants on my wound.
Again, crapshoot. I’m desperate.
All I have left to do now is wait. After disposing of my superacid (I’ll remake one when my bacteria finishes growing) and storing away my magnesium template, I set an alarm for 8 AM and promptly pass out at a lab table.
“Joo. Joo.”
“Wha-,” I mumble.
Dev, Lucy, and Tom are standing above me, astonished expressions on their faces.
I shoot up, not-so-subtly feeling for drool on the side of my mouth. “Sorry,” I say stiffy, standing up. It’s weird facing my old 2-and-a-half-week-long friends.
“What are you doing here?” Tom asks concernedly. “Where were you yesterday?”
“It’s a good thing you weren’t at school,” Dev mutters.
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
“Cloe, Sasha, and co. were looking for you yesterday,” Lucy utters. “Actually, no. That’s a nice way of putting it. They were out for blood.”
“Wha- why?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s your business.”
I recall Taehyung’s words to his mother about them being no longer allowed in his house. Maybe that’s why they’re so pissed.
“Crap,” I sigh, rubbing my temples. “They’re probably going to be looking for me today, too.”
“You should leave,” Dev says tonelessly.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m working on something.” I glance towards the petri dish. “It’ll take me a few more hours.”
My phone suddenly buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the screen.
Taehyung: where the hell are you
Jooyeon: why
Taehyung: nothing, i just want to be there when you get your handed to you by cloe :) :) :) :) :) :)
“ him,” I hiss, stowing away my phone. “Yeah, I’m definitely staying here.”
“You can’t stay here,” Tom protests. “You’ll have to leave at some point or another.”
“Yeah, and it’s not like you’re totally powerless against them,” Dev adds in a pointed voice.
I give him a strange look. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He raises his eyebrows. “You tell me.”
“The starting bell rings in 5 minutes,” Lucy says, stepping forward. “Joo, we’ll leave you alone in here. Let’s go, guys.”
“But-,” Dev looks at Lucy’s stern expression and sighs. “Whatever.”
“Thanks a lot,” I say sarcastically. “And don’t call me Joo.”
Petri dishes take about 24 hours to incubate. The next 19 hours feel like pure hell. I pass the time sketching out more designs for magic-harnessing objects, trying to figure out more alternatives to splitting hydrogen, chugging a bottle of 5-hour energy, and spending the consecutive hour rolling around on the floor, willing the caffeine-induced hallucinations to go away. By the time night falls, I am this close to just passing out. The clock ticks past 1 o’clock, 2 o’clock.
At 3 o’clock, I prepare the superacid again.
At 3:30 AM, I leap towards the incubation oven and pull out petri dish #1.
“How do I do this,” I say, biting my lip. I have room for trial-and-error- I do have several more petri dishes available- so I start off by simply swiping an inoculation loop over the petri dish.
“Should I just tap it into the superacid?” I muse. “Or- here, let me try dipping it in-,”
The moment the loop touches the superacid, the solution turns a rich emerald green. Large bubbles begin rising to the top of the beaker
My jaw drops.
“Okay,” I say, snapping out of my trance. “Now I just need to pour this in...,”
Against all logic- against everything the rules of science had led me to believe- the superacid perfectly melds with the magnesium base. The two components begin twisting around, as if they have a life of their own. I step back and watch in awe as a blinding light emanates from the two as they morph into one, small, oval-shaped stone.
For several moments, all I can do is stare.
Then I gingerly pick the stone up, turn it over with my fingers.
“I did it,” I breathe. “I did it. I did it. Holy !”
I bounce around the room with the stone in my hands, screeching with joy. Magic is real. Holy hell. Is this even real life?
I pause. Wait. Just because my solution formed a solid doesn’t mean it actually has protective properties. I haven’t even figured out if this thing works.
My lips spread into a wide smile anyway.
Because I made this. Even if it doesn’t really work, it’ll be like a good luck charm. A reminder that I can accomplish anything when I put hard work into it.
Hell yeah.
I love the Windsong locker rooms. They look like country club bathrooms, equipped with soft towels, a sauna, and Sensodyne. Best of all, the janitors apparently don’t lock them at night. So I am able to shower, brush my teeth, and attempt to make myself look a bit presentable.
I stare at myself in the mirror. My face is pale, sickly, and noticeably thinner. I suppose that’s what happens when you only get about 15 hours of sleep in 4 days, and the only thing you’ve eaten are crackers and coffee.
My fingers drift up to my neck. The green stone I created is hanging off a thick black band. To a casual onlooker, it looks like a simple choker. There’s a 50% chance it might be exactly that.
But there’s also the possibility that it’s truly a magical object.
“Sorry,” I say, accidentally bumping into one of my classmates as I am walking to my 1st period. She gives me a nasty look. When I walk away, I hear her whisper to her friend, “At least I don’t look as ty as her.”
“Joo,” someone says. I turn. Tom is hurrying towards me, a panicked look on his face.
“What?” I coldly say.
“You need to get out of here. Cloe and her friends are looking for you again.”
I sigh. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I can’t run from them forever.”
“You’re going to get squashed! Like a bug!”
“Why do you care? Don’t you have a Mathletes meeting or something to be at?”
Tom winces. “Look-,” His eyes suddenly widen. “They’re here!”
I whirl around. Cloe and her posse are stalking across the hall towards me. There is murder in their eyes.
“Well, well,” Yasmin says with a smug simper. “You’ve been hiding for the last two days. Finally got the balls to come back?”
“Joo, let’s go,” Tom says, grabbing my arm. “We have to get to-,”
“Not so fast,” Jade says. She shoves Tom aside. “Ooh, nice choker. Where’d you steal it from?”
A crowd begins forming around us. My fists clench by my side as I glower up at Jade- god, this is the last thing I want to deal with. Yasmin smirks.
“Let me take a looksie,” she hums. Her fingers reach for my choker-
And then she quickly jerks her hand back like she’s been shocked.
“Ow!” she exclaims indignantly. “What the hell?”
“What?” Cloe demands. Yasmin angrily rubs her hand.
“Her ing collar shocked me!”
Cloe focuses her laser-beam glare on me. “Shocked you?”
“Or... something!”
“That’s not possible,” Sasha says, giving Yasmin a pointed look. “You know that.”
So the amulet works.
“If we’re done here, I’m leaving,” I utter, turning. Before I leave, I glance back at Tom. “Are you coming?”
His eyes are as wide as quarters. “Y-Yeah,” he says.
And we walk away, leaving Cloe and Co.- along with the rest of the Windsong students who had gathered to watch this altercation- gaping at us in shock.
“What just happened?” Tom breathes.
“Doesn’t matter. At least I have the Bratz off my back now.”
“The Bratz?”
“Yeah. Haven’t you noticed that Cloe, Sasha, Yasmin, and Jade are the names of the Bratz dolls?”
“Oh. That is... surprisingly fitting.” He shakes his head. “But that’s not the point. You just drove away the Bratz.” He blinks. “Wow. That is convenient.”
“Your point?”
“How? And also, what were you doing in the lab? Also, have you eaten anything the last time I saw you-,”
I stop and look at him.
“Look. We’re not friends. I don’t know why you’re asking me all these questions, but it’s none of your business.”
“H-Hey, I never said I wasn’t your friend anymore-,”
“Oh, really. You guys are the ones who randomly dropped me after the 2nd week of school.”
Tom bites his lip. “Well... I mean-,”
The bell rings, effectively cutting him off. I march away before he can get another word in.
A/N: yall....... so two of my really good fam friends came over today right..... and we were talkin about kpop..... and then...... i discovered.... my friend reads my stories
sam & manasa if yr readin this........................................... what sonic drink do ya want next week !
ALSO GUYS, I'M SO SORRY IF I DON'T GET TO REPLY TO YOUR COMMENT/REPLY LIKE TWO DAYS LATE, IVE BEEN SUPER BUSY THESE PAST 2 DAYS OMG BUT I'M GETTING TO THEM RN!!
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