His hair hadn’t been combed since he was nine, and he was wearing what looked like pilot’s goggles on his forehead.
“Hey, new kid! I’m Benny Benjaminson, the third, but people just call me Ben. Ready to . . . make some chemistry?”
I did all the work. He mostly just played on his Nintendo DS with the volume turned all the way up, which was fine by me. It was a simple titration. Ben provided commentary, calling the pipette the ‘drippy thing’, and the burette the ‘cooler drippy thing’.
“Okay, so all we have to do now is add the sodium hydroxide until the indicator turns pink. Then you can copy whatever I write down, got it?”
“Sure thing, smartypants.” He began playing with his ping pong paddle with a rubber string and ball attached to it.
I dropped the solution carefully, watching to see when it would turn.
“This is boooring,” he said. “I have an idea. Why don’t we make this lame experiment a little more . . . explosive.”
“If you fuck this up, I’ll fucking kill you.”
“I got this, trust me. Science is my middle name.” He began rummaging through his canvas duffel bag.
A ferret ran out from the bag and jumped onto his shoulder.
“Miss Sprinkleton! Be careful! If the teacher sees you, she’ll take you back to Mr. Bingle’s cage.”
Another student was watching from the table over. “Yo Ben, is that a ferret?”
“No!” he blurted out. “Of course not. It’s actually a . . . grilled cheese sandwich that just so happens to look like a ferret.”
“Um, okay then.”
“Phew,” he said, wiping his forehead. “That was a close one.” He fed Miss Sprinkleton some treats from his shirt pocket. The ferret squeaked and returned to the bag.
“My parents are getting divorced, by the way.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to — ”
“ — There you are!” he said, pulling out a glowing rock.
“Woah, that’s actually pretty cool! What is it?”
“This ol’ thing? Let’s just say . . . hypothetically . . . it might be plutonium.”
“What the fuck! How did you get plutonium!”
“Let’s just say . . . hypothetically . . . I know a guy.”
“That thing is gonna give us all super cancer!”
“Shhhh! You’re gonna get us in trouble.”
The professor noticed the commotion. “Everyone okay back there?”
“Everyone get out! Ben has plutonium!”
The classroom panicked and a few students ran towards the door.
“Wait! Wait!” shouted Ben, who started to laugh. “It’s actually just a normal rock, with glowing paint.” He was laughing so hard, he began gasping for air. “My uncle gave it to me. You know, the legendary prankster?”
The teacher was not amused. “Ben, you’re 20 years old, how can you be such a dumbass? For God’s sake, Kayla is crying in the hallway.”
“Kayla? As in Kayla Kilimatowsky? The most popular g…g…gi…girl in the whole school? After this kerfuffle, she’ll never want to go to prom with me.”
“She called the police.”
“Holy jamoley!” Ben pulled at his collar and gulped. “This is getting . . . awkward.”