Today Tonight Tomorrow

Date and time of incident: January 15, 11:20 a.m.

Location: Room #B208, science lab

Report submitted by: Todd O’Brien, chemistry teacher

Name of person(s) involved in incident: Rowan Roth, Neil McNair

Description of incident: Made Roth and McNair chemistry partners at beginning of year to encourage them to more peacefully work together. Students immediately asked for new partners, informed them assignments were final. After a few arguments early in the school year, had hoped they’d gotten it out of their systems. Was wrong. During experiment on exothermic reactions, their lab station burst into flames. Immediately grabbed extinguisher to put it out. Students could not pinpoint what went wrong in experiment, each intent on blaming the other.

Illness or injury involved: No

How was incident handled: Students sent to principal’s office, said they were happy to serve detention as long as incident wouldn’t go on their permanent records. Incident appears to have been an accident, and as students are first-time offenders and top ranked in their grade, no further disciplinary action recommended. Roth and McNair will be assigned new partners.

Signed:

Principal Karen Meadows, M.Ed.

2:02 p.m.

WE END UP in the market’s basement, in a shop I can only describe as a punk-rock five-and-dime. Orange Dracula sells all kinds of retro goth novelties, from buttons and patches to vampire incense and shrunken heads. They hold live tarot card readings, and a sign in the window reads YES, WE SELL GUM. As a kid, I thought it was the coolest place in the world. Seattle has no shortage of kitschy weird shit, and this is among the kitschiest and weirdest.

“You saved my life.” McNair says it almost with a question mark at the end, like he’s not convinced it actually happened. Frankly, I’m surprised too.

I turn down an aisle of magnets made from old pulp paperbacks with titles like Half Past Danger and Sin Street, most of them with half-nude women on the cover. We figured we’d be safe from Savannah in here, since she’d likely assume McNair fled Pike Place.

“It’s not fun for me if you’re eliminated this early,” I say, which is the semi-truth.

He’s acting fidgety, jamming his hands into his pockets, then immediately drawing them back out. I’m not sure if it’s the near-death experience or if he’s just a fidgety guy and I’ve never noticed.

“Ah. Now everything makes sense.” McNair flips through an assortment of off-color postcards. An animatronic witch cackles at us, and a few giggling preteens pile into the shop’s photo booth, the one that uses real film, not digital.

His back is to me, and without my permission, my gaze maps the terrain of his shoulders, the way they curve and slope before dipping into his arm muscles. It’s a nice pair of shoulders, I decide. A shame they’re wasted on someone like him.

“And let’s be real,” I say to his shoulder blades, “who else stands a chance against us?”

He turns around, shifting the straps of his backpack, drawing my attention to the flex of his biceps. He’s been hiding these muscles for at least a year and a half, and they’re more distracting than they have any right to be. I’ve got to figure out a casual way to ask about his exercise routine. Surely, if I solve this mystery, then I’ll stop staring.

“Accurate,” he says.

Then both our phones buzz at the same time.

HELLO, SENIOR WOLF PACK

WE HOPE YOU’RE HAVING FUN

YOU HAVE 20 MINUTES

TO GET TO SAFE ZONE ONE

An attachment links to a map of Hilltop Bowl, a bowling alley in Capitol Hill.

“Already?” McNair says, and though his phone has the time, he checks his watch. “Wow. We didn’t have our first safe zone until at least five o’clock.”

Safe zone means Kirby and Mara and talking about the vacation they’re taking without me. And, inevitably, thinking about the life I’ll have without them next year. As much as I’d like to delay all of that, the safe zones aren’t optional.

“Well,” I say as we make our way out of the store. It’s always hot in the market basement, even on the coldest days. And it feels entirely too bizarre to have spent ten minutes inside Orange Dracula with Neil McNair. “See you in twenty minutes, I guess?” If I bus back to my car and drive to Hill

top Bowl, I’ll be able to make a speedier getaway when our safe-zone time is up.