Only Two Drops

Our chemistry teacher, Mr Doyle, loves a good experiment. The problem is, so does my lab partner, Priscilla, and Priscilla never reads the instructions.

On Friday, we were in the laboratory testing an unknown liquid. Mr Doyle had written the steps on the board. “Listen carefully,” he said. “If you heat this chemical too fast, it reacts. So go slowly. Measure two drops. Only two.”

I picked up the small bottle. “Two drops,” I said.

“Boring,” said Priscilla. “Nothing happens with two drops. If you add more, you get a bigger reaction. That’s just science.”

“That’s just how accidents happen,” I said. But Priscilla had already taken the bottle.

Here is a thing I have learned about chemistry: if you add ten drops instead of two, the liquid does not make a nice blue colour. It makes a loud noise, a cloud of yellow smoke, and a very angry teacher.

The smoke alarm went off. The whole class ran outside. Mr Doyle stood in the doorway, holding a fire blanket he did not need, his eyebrows slightly less full than before.

“Priscilla,” he said slowly. “What does the board say?”

Priscilla read it again. “Measure two drops,” she said in a small voice. “Only two.”

“And how many did you use?”

She thought about lying. Then she looked at the yellow ceiling. “More than two,” she admitted.

Mr Doyle closed his eyes. “Next week,” he said, “Priscilla measures nothing. Priscilla writes a report on laboratory safety.”

For once in her life, Priscilla did not argue.