I sat, my back against the couch, on the torn carpet of the TV room. My arms were sprawled out in nonchalance. Jackson and Eleanor, two fellow children of the relinquere home, sat on each side of me, both gripping my knees for comfort from the intensity of the scene. Their little wide eyes were glued to the screen in wonder.

Stale popcorn and kernels stuck like glue to the long off white threads. A couple of baby teeth were sprinkled in the white jungle as well. Sometimes the kids got bored and just tried to eat the kernels when the popcorn ran out.

It was after school, and because it was Friday, I thought it wouldn't be wrong to give myself a little bit of a mental break after a long week.

Today's afternoon kid flick was Beauty and the Beast.

"If I didn't know better I'd think you had feelings for this monster."

"He's no monster, Gaston. You are!"

I snapped my fingers in a zig zag. "Ohhhh snap you just got told, son."

"Shhhh!" Both children shushed me.

We watched on.

"The beast will make off with your children! He'll come after them in the night."

Daanng that's dark for a kiddy film.

I shook off the thought and leaned into the escalating madness.

"Set to sacrifice our children to his monstrous appetite."

Wow. Not gonna let that one go, are ya Disney?

What is it with monsters and children. They take 'em, they eat 'em, they scare 'em from the closet...

Hard to believe Belle was able to see through all that lore. Monsters are pretty darn horrible.

I dropped my thoughts again when the movie finally reached the show down between Gaston and Beast. I started pounding my fists on my chest like an ape, freaking both children out. "YEAH YOU GO BOY, BEAST, YOU GO BOY— Ow, ow that hurts."

* * *

Sunday.

I took a deep breath, and blew my bangs out of my face. My exhale turned to a fine mist.

I looked down at the side walk, inches above the pavement.

My sweaty palms gripped the single strap of my backpack, the tough material digging into my hands.

I shivered.

It was a cloudy, melancholy day, as expected for this late in the year. My pink holey sweater did little to protect me from the chill. The expected hustle and bustle from students was nonexistent, as many were probably in church, at home, or sleeping in.

I tightened the bun on the top of my head, already so tight it was about to yank my scalp off. The campus left me with a sense of uneasiness. The air was so still, so silent. The smell of dead grass tickled my nose. The colorful leaves on the trees did not crinkle. The birds did not sing.

The sudden crunch of my feet on leaves cracked the ghostly atmosphere around me.

If I waited any longer, I would be late for my appointment.

* *

"And on your left here, Ms. Green, is the lecture hall." Mrs. Evans said, guiding me through two oak wood double doors labeled "A113." Her striped pencil skirt and white blouse were alarmingly sharp. The stamp of the school's logo as her college class ring was a too perfect circle. Seven flawless cream pearls hung from a chain around her neck. Her blush pink high heels could kill a man. In her hands were a clip board and a red clicking pen.

The blonde woman had already taken me through half of the building.

And I was not impressed.

The room wasn't all that grand. Perhaps fifty chairs divided into two different sections, all facing an old dusty blackboard.

My eyes were drawn to the board. On it was written a decay process in nuclear chemistry that hadn't been erased.

Writing balanced equations:

Xenon-118 emits a positron.

Answer:

118   118  0

Xe —> I + e

54      53  -1

"Well look at that." Mrs. Evans looked up from her clip board. "I suppose Professor Burpoh was the last person to speak in here; you know he's such a forgetful fellow. Wouldn't be the first time he forgot to clean off the board. Any who, the lecture hall..."

My gaze stayed on the equation. I traced through the answer. Mass number of 118, 54 protons: Xenon, Yes. Mass number stays the same at 118. Take away one proton to make 53 protons: Iodine. Yeah, that works. Mass number of 0, negative one...

I scrunched my eyebrows. Wait a minute... I squinted at the tail of the equation.

0

e

-1

Hold the phone...

"Ms. Green? What's wrong?" Mrs. Evans asked, only now noticing I was not paying attention.

"What? Oh, nothing." I responded, uncomfortably wringing my hands. "It's just, uh, well, uh..."

"Spit it out, what's wrong?" Mrs. Evans bit her lip, and clicked her pen.

"Well..." I trailed off. I jumped down the steps and ran to the chalk board. I stood on my tip toes, my nose inches from the white dust and green slate, not believing my own eyes. "The answer is incorrect."

"Excuse me?"

I snatched the pinhead sized chalk that remained. "The answer. Is incorrect."

I began mumbling to myself, frustrated. "I can't believe he's still trying to teach this to them." I shook my head in disgust. "This level of nuclear chemistry is child's play."

Mrs. Evans interjected. "Ms. Green, Professor Burpoh has been teaching for over thirty years. I do believe he is not capable of making—"

"You said yourself he was forgetful, did you not? Well, here." I circled the 0, -1, e.

Says a lot about your school if after thirty years you still can't replace a chemistry professor who doesn't know how to add and subtract the number one.

I only went so far as to explain it to her. "He gave the positron a negative charge, when in fact, he should have given the positron a +1, or a 1 that is understood to be positive. Professor, what was his name, Burpoh? Must have forgotten that he was dealing with a beta-plus and not a beta-minus, as he himself wrote on the board that Xenon-118 emits a positron, or an antielectron. Also, if it is to be believed that it is correct to put -1 with 53 protons, it would give Xenon 52 protons, not 54, which would make Xenon an entirely different element: Tellurium. And so, when we take all this into consideration, the answer is not 118 54 Xenon, 118 53 Iodine, 0 -1, but rather..."

I added a vertical tick to the negative sign, using up the last of the chalk. I clapped the white dust off my hands and looked back at Mrs. Evans. "0, +1, e."

We stood in an awkward silence.

"Elementary."

She said nothing. I could see the hatred her eyes, daggering back at me.

Finally getting the message, I wrapped my fingers around the strap of my backpack. I bolted up the stairs and shuffled to the door. "Shall we move on to the next room?"