Maybe not...

John felt as if he’d just finished copying down what was on the board when the bell rang, signalling the end of the hour-long class. The sudden sound caused him to bolt upright, shaking off a dazed feeling to see that most of the other students were already halfway out the door. He must have dozed off at some point during class. He took a moment to regain his bearings before trying to stand with his things. As much as he hated carrying his books, at the moment, he had ****.

Fighting the sluggish feeling from this morning, he trudged out through the waves of students towards his next class. He was halfway down the hall before he changed directions, remembering his need to stop at his locker. ’I’m lucky Ashcroft is one of the few schools around here that even have lockers…’ He sighed to himself, rubbing the back of his neck as he approached the row of cheap metal boxes.

One of the janitors was in his row, scrubbing juvenile tags off the doors with a strong smelling cleaner that made John’s nose wrinkle. He felt bad for the guy. The two outcasts exchanged a nod as the gamer unlocked his freshly-cleaned locker, chemical residue making his fingers tingle as he touched the metal door. Reaching in with a glance over his shoulder, John added the notebook and new book to his inventory, replacing them with the ones for Chemistry. When he shut the door, checking that the lock latched correctly, he realized that he didn’t even know the janitor’s name, even though he was one of the few people at the school that was nice to him. Using it as an excuse to see the new changes to Observe, he cast it at the aging man.

’Oof, yeah, okay. I can see that…’ John’s shoulders slumped in defeat. The pizza girl liked him more than that and he ogled her at least once a week. He looked at the old man with a lined face and peppered hair, feeling guilty. ’Even if he doesn’t like me, he doesn’t deserve to be poisoned to ****.’

“Hey, Joe,” he paused nervously, his throat dry. “You should probably wear a mask, the vents here aren’t great.” The student held up his Chemistry book to emphasize his point. “If I’ve learned one thing in this class, it’s that you shouldn’t breathe that stuff in.” Joe looked like he was about to respond, but the bell rang, giving John the excuse to cut the chat short. “Take care of yourself!” he called back at the man as he rushed off to his next class.

Chemistry, unlike Business, was a class he actually enjoyed. Still more math than science, there were at least theories you could test and verify. Solid, honest, scientific research with rules, tests, and reports. John loved this class. The classroom was still in the same wing as his Business class and locker, so he managed to make it to his seat before the second bell rang. His seat was in the back, and the room smelled as bad as the Biology lab, even without the bottled animal remains. His nose burned as the smell of the bunsen burners and **** hit him, but after a moment, it fell back to just a tingle. As everyone got to their seats, the teacher was setting up a few bottles and beakers in one of the vented cubicles on the side of the room, and John’s fingers itched to get started on the minor experiment they implied. For the first time since he gained his powers, he actually felt like himself, not ‘The Gamer’, just John.

As Mr. Burmick set the last bottle into the work area, the curly-haired man turned towards the class with bright eyes and an excited smile. “Today I’m going to demonstrate a Briggs-Rauscher oscillating color change.” The students were silent and John’s hope faltered.

’Probably best not to work with chemicals like that when I’m this out of it, anyway,’ he reassured himself as the teacher moved to the front board and wrote the formula for the chemical reaction.

“If you can give me a full explanation of why this reaction occurs, including naming the beginning and end products correctly, you will be allowed to try it yourselves in our next class.”

Half the class groaned, but John’s spirits lifted. That was easy. A quick paper and he’d be guaranteed a chance to take part in an experiment on Thursday. With ease, he quickly scribbled down the formula in his notes as Mr. Burmick got his table ready for the demonstration, putting on gloves and goggles before adjusting the overhead mirror so the students could see the table from their desks. A hush fell over the room and the teacher smiled again before beginning.

“First, let’s mix up three solutions.” He began pouring liquids of varying volumes together and diluting them. The act of pouring them mixed their scent back into the air, and even in the back of the class, John sneezed, trying to **** the sting out of his nose. “I’ll have these solutions ready-made for you when you’re trying it, so you only need to state the correct amounts of each chemical, as well as what those chemicals are classified as, in your reports to prove you know what’s causing the reaction.” Without pausing, he continued pouring and stirring, this time pouring the three solutions into one glass.

Just as the swirling mixture was starting to change colors, the bell rang, breaking John’s concentration and reminding him of the headache that was now throbbing behind his eyes. The class scurried to gather their things as Mr. Burmick called out a reminder about the assignment. ’Again, I can’t help but feel like class is going by too quickly.’ He checked his phone, just to make sure, but it was 10:30. Class was over. ’Ugh. This headache is killing me. Mom was right, maybe I should have stayed home.’ He rubbed his temples as he stood and gathered his things. His next period was free, so he was in no hurry, and he took his time leaving the room.

’I can go to the computer lab and try to figure out who this Despaxas guy is.’ He shifted directions, the computer lab was housed in another wing, and he may as well not bother pretending to switch books until he needed the next one. ’And maybe even find a place to get more of these herbs,’ he ground his teeth, scanning people cautiously as they passed in the hall, ’with Frank wasting them like that, I’ll need more to get by.’ He thumbed the small bottle in his pocket, doing the math, he probably had enough for two or three doses left. ’The problem is that I don’t know how often I need to take it, or how often would be too toxic to handle. Yet another thing to research.’ He smirked slightly as he walked through the computer lab door, ’Better than fucking up my search history at home.’