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Everything blew up for Chris in organic chemistry class. Shaky after another sleepless night, he reached too fast for the sulfuric acid, then watched in horror as the glass vial skittered off the workbench and shattered on the floor.
His lab partner leapt back from the spreading pool. “What the fuck, Chris!” The lab instructor was by his side in seconds, shouting directions.
Somebody muttered “Loser” loud enough for Chris to hear. The whole class had gathered, peering around the benches at the viscous pool spreading across the floor. As the first whiff of acid fumes filled his nose and stung his eyes, he heard the same voice again from the back of the room: “Thanks a lot, loser.”
His face grew hot and he knew he'd turned bright red. In a daze, he pulled on the latex gloves and cautiously swept up the mess. As he followed up with a wet mop, somebody else called from the back of the room, “Asshole!” He looked around, trying to see who it was, but everyone acted as if they had gone back to work and weren't paying any attention to him.
The cruelty of it made him furious. It never occurred to him that he was hallucinating.
He tried to start over with a new vial of sulfuric acid, but he couldn't concentrate. The instructor was erasing chemical reactions from the board when Chris approached him.
“I'm done,” he said.
The teacher looked around in surprise. “Already?”
“No, I mean done with the class. Not coming back.”
Chris hated organic chemistry. It was just for pre-meds, and he had no desire to be a doctor. That was his father's dream. Unfortunately, his father called from home that evening to arrange for pick-up at the airport when he flew in from Houston. “How're you doing in organic?” he asked.