Jasmine
By the time we were done with the practical, my hands smelled like starch, and my feet were stinging from standing for hours.
Ari peeled her gloves off while she was still muttering about her titration numbers.
“Tell me 0.24 molar isn’t garbage,” Bella said, shrugging out of her lab coat.
“It’s not garbage. Mine was basically the same,” I said as I took off my gloves and threw them in the bin.
“Close isn’t the same as right,” Ari said, though she was grinning when she said it because she loved being right almost as much as she loved being smug about it.
We were still going back and forth over decimal points when Mia walked up to us with a huge smile, waving like she hadn’t nearly torched my whole life a month ago. I forgave her a long time ago—but my friend? Not so much.
“He
