THERE'S NO OTHER way to say it: all my brain cells are wreaking havoc.

Joseph and I both jump to our feet, but it's too late. For me and especially for him. The hydrochloric acid is already making his pants smoke.

"Help!" I screech, looking around frantically. Where's a teacher when you need one? "Help!"

The whole class goes silent. Joseph steps away from the table, looking down at his pants, his face pale with shock. Before he can do anything else, however, Miss McLaughlin appears out of nowhere and pulls him further away from the mess.

I don't know what else to do except to just stand there and glance at the label of the fallen rack. Hydrochloric acid. It has to be dilute, but what if he gets badly hurt? Now I can't feel my face.

"Oh, my goodness," I hear Miss McLaughlin mutter, then she says in full volume, "Class, please evacuate the laboratory."

Everyone gets their things and leaves fast. I can't bring myself to go with them.

"Joseph," I say in a strangled voice, making my way towards him. "I didn't—"

Miss McLaughlin turns to me. "Miss Fox, please leave the area. Get your things and his quickly, then go."

I have no choice but to oblige. I hurriedly grab my bag and his (which is freakishly heavy) and get out into the corridor with the rest of my classmates. I make sure to stay at the edge of the door, though.

I put down Joseph's bag by my feet, watching as Miss McLaughlin holds him by the shoulders and starts to lead him to the safety shower at the back of the classroom. After that she just sort of shoves him inside and pulls the lever.

Curtains fall over the cubicle, completely obscuring our view. There's no sound coming from it either. She pulls the lever again after a few moments, and Joseph walks out, looking disgruntled and embarrassed and terrified at the same time.

My whole body is numb with shame. The horror in Joseph's face is making me feel like moving to China under an alias.

Miss McLaughlin examines Joseph for a second, then she holds him by the shoulder and start leading him out of the lab.

"I'm sorry," I say to Joseph again as they pass in front of me. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

He nods, but he doesn't look at me. If anything, he seems keen to avoid me at all costs. Even as Raju comes running up to him, he keeps his eyes downcast. I don't blame him, but this makes me feel ten times more awful.

Before they can go through the door, Miss McLaughlin calls out to the entire class, "No one leaves until I return. I'll call the staff to clean this up, and no one is to touch it, understand?"

The whole class murmurs assent, then immediately jumps into lively chatter, no doubt about the accident.

Shortly after Joseph, Raju, and Miss McLaughlin leave, someone from somewhere behind me asks, "Why did you do that to Joseph?"

I quickly wheel around to locate the source of that stupid accusation, and I see Alyssa Brenner staring at me.

"It was an accident," I begin to explain. "I didn't mean to—"

Alyssa snorts, which is an obvious sign that she doesn't buy it, but to further drive that point in, she grabs Joseph's bag from my side and demands, "Explain, please."

What I find impressive is how she picked the thing up so easily. What I find annoying is her bangles and this whole attitude episode.

"If you don't believe me, you can ask him," I tell her coldly. "I'm not going to explain anything to you."

"Right." Her smile is sweet and sarcastic. "I assume explaining is something you find bothersome. Thank you, anyway."

My temper flares up. Why is she being this nosy? It's not like Joseph's her bestie or anything.

I open my mouth to say exactly what I think, but before I can even get the words out, Alyssa flicks her tair, turns around, and starts sashaying away from me. Surprisingly, she doesn't seem to be bothered by the weight of Joseph's bag. She even slings it over her shoulders.

All I can say is, what a bitch. A strong bitch, at that.

Sure, Alyssa could be considered one of the popular girls in school, but she's not in my level. Not by a long shot. Me and Mikayla Thomas are basically neck and neck at the top spot, and that's only because she's the captain of the girls' lacrosse team. Nevertheless, she and I are like A-list celebrities. Belle, Claire, and some other sports-slash-student-org girls are B-list. Alyssa's D-list. She's prissy and fussy and just a big blanket on all things fun. Plus, she doesn't look anything close to remarkable.

In conclusion, she's irrelevant and I should probably stop imagining myself giving her a punch in the throat.

I do just this, and it helps that Belle, Claire, and Irvin push themselves away from the rest of the class to stay with me. They're bickering about the activity as though nothing juicy just occured, and even though I'm grateful none of them asked me about the accident, I wish they'll just leave me alone for a while.

This desire only increases as Miss McLaughlin comes back to dismiss the class, looking dead serious.

I'm about to raise my hand and ask her if Joseph's alright, but Alyssa beats me to it. "Is he alright, ma'am?"

Miss McLaughlin scans the crowd for her before answering, "Yes. Mr Yates is currently at the clinic, but he's fine. The acid is heavily diluted, so he didn't get any serious burns."

Most of my classmates take this as a sign to leave, but somehow I stay rooted to the spot. Only when Belle, Claire, and Irvin steer me away am I able to move.

"Hey, come on," Irvin coaxes, draping his arm across my shoulders. "The little wimp is okay."

"Don't call him that," I snap.

Irvin exchanges glances with Belle and Claire before replying in a strange tone, "Alright. So you didn't do it?"

"Do what?"

"Spill acid down his pants, of course," he says as though this should be obvious, smirking. "Did you do it or not?"

I know that Irvin could be a skeptical piece of shit, but I didn't expect this from him. I feel like he just slapped me with that question.

"Of course not! What motive would I have?"

"Oh, I don't know." Irvin shrugs. "Maybe for fun? I mean, did you see his face? It was priceless, dude."

He turns to my friends like he's expecting them to agree, but they're both looking at me warily. I decide to wait for them to say their piece, cocking my chin up in challenge.

At last, Claire asks meekly, "Did you really not?"

I saw this coming, but it somehow still stings enough for me to almost throw a fit. Belle and Claire are my best friends. They should be on my side. "You guys don't believe me too?"

"We do," Belle says quickly. "It's just that . . . you hate him."

"I don't hate him!" I shrug off Irvin's arm, shooting them looks of disgust. "I don't like him, but I don't hate him. There's a big difference."

Claire tilts her head thoughtfully. "I remember you telling everyone that he has a giant wart on his head, thus the beanie. Everyone teased him for the entirety of freshman year."

Damn. I forgot about that. Now my cheeks throbbing with shame. "That's beside the point! It doesn't mean I would throw some chemical mix at him. I'd never. You shouldn't even be doubting me!"

Irvin tries to pull me back. "Savannah—"

"No!" I walk away from them, stomping hard with each step.

I can't believe they think that lowly of me. My temper almost bubbles through the roof just thinking about it, but the thing is, they're doubting me for good reason.

Let's just say that I've done some pretty terrible things to people I hate. But that was before. I know it's just a couple of years and even few months after some of those incidents, but I feel like I've grown so much since then. Sure, I was planning to manipulate Joseph into thinking I'm worth protecting, but that doesn't mean I'd actually put his safety on the line just for him to keep quiet about Mirage.

I can't blame any of these people for not trusting me on this, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

***

I THOUGHT ONLY the people I'm closest to would think that the Advance Chemistry fiasco was not an accident, but it turns out I'm wrong. After last period, my name gets broadcasted in the school system.

"Savannah Fox," a warbled woman's voice comes out from the small white speakers perched on top of the board. "Savannah Fox, please report to the principal's office immediately. Savannah Fox. . . ."

Most of my Creative Writing classmates are gone by now, but the remaining ones look at me in wonder. Even Mr. Gonzales.

"Miss Fox," he says in an bright tone. "You better hurry up."

Mr. Gonzales is my favorite teacher, and unlike most of his colleagues, he's genuinely a nice man. Too nice, in fact, that he probably thinks I'm being summoned to the principal's office because of good news.

Yeah, right. Like I would ever achieve something worth noted by Principal Wiley.

Nevertheless I just nod and smile, slinging my bag over my shoulder and bolting out of the room.

When I spilled dilute hydrochloric acid down Joseph's pants, I knew luck wasn't on my side. But now that I'm going to see the principal because of it, I'm totally convinced that all kinds of positivity life can offer has abandoned me completely.

This sense of dread stays and increases by the second as I arrive at Principal Wiley's office. Mr. Lind, the principal's assistant, makes me wait at the reception area. And that's when I see Joseph.

He's occupying one corner of the gray leather sofa, wearing what appears to be a brand new uniform set. On his lap is an open magazine, and he seems to be really engrossed in it. I'm glad to see him in one piece, but I can't help feeling a strong sense of accusation and injustice. Why did he have to tell on me?

I've never been to the principal's office before. Never. Sure, I'm not the best student out there, but I've always kept myself out of serious trouble. The idea of Joseph reporting what happened without even considering that it was an accident is making me feel plenty indignant.

Even though there are a lot of seating options in the area, I decide to sit beside him. Almost immediately, he looks up from the magazine. Surprise registers in his features, but he doesn't say anything.

Before he can go back to whatever he's reading, I say, "You know I didn't mean to splash you with that mix, right?"

Joseph's face contorts as though he finds the topic awkward, but he replies, "Yeah. Of course."

Okay. So he knows. Anger and frustration blossoms in my chest, fueling up the existing indignation. For a moment I feel like seizing him by the collar and slapping him with the magazine on his lap.

I know I should just shut up to avoid speaking out of emotion, but if I don't talk, I'm going to spontaneously combust. And he's starting to glance at me every so often as though waiting for the exact same thing. Maybe he saw all my blood rush to my face.

Right. I can't take this anymore.

"Did you report me to the principal?" I demand, turning in my spot to face him. "Did you tell them I did that on purpose? Because if you did—"

"I didn't say anything to anyone," he interrupts "Don't blame me."

"Well, then. Do you know who did it?"

"Did what?"

"Tell the principal, of course!"

"No." His voice drops to a mere whisper. I notice that his cheeks are turning bright pink and he's starting to pick on the hem of his vest.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's lying. He's the tattletale. This is enough to bring me to a boiling point. "You better tell me or else I'm going to make you pay."

Joseph's gaze falls upon everywhere but at my face. "I said I don't know."

"You should know because you're involved in it!"

"Maybe it was Miss McLaughlin?"

"Oh, please." I roll my eyes. "Accidents in the laboratory reach the principal, but the students involved don't get called unless someone thinks it wasn't an accident and blabs away."

"I said I don't know who did it," he mumbles. "Besides, I don't know why it's a big deal. It's not like you've never done anything that got you into trouble before."

No. No, no, no. Tell me he did not just go there.

I open my mouth to retort, but before I ca get a word out, Mr. Lind peeks in and announces, "Principal Wiley is ready to see you now. Come with me."