Parched

That was the last we ever heard of him. It wasn't a loss though, not for us. We had a substitute teacher come in for the last quarter. The sub, Ms. March, didn't know much about chemistry, so she read from the teacher's edition and asked us to write response papers like we were in Language Arts class.

I didn't mind. I was great at Language Arts, and not so great at Chemistry. That's why I was kind of amazed that it had worked. It had just sounded like an urban legend - putting Visine in a drink, killing someone? Psh. It doesn't even seem real.

I tried to do the research. I took apart the ingredients and researched each one. Was one harmful alone? Did these two mix to create something toxic? I wanted to find out why a solution you could safely put in your eyes would kill you if you ingested it. I knew that project would be enough to save my failing grade.

When I saw him with Annamarie, there was no question. My research was getting me nowhere; I needed to conduct an experiment. His water bottle was always right there on his desk. He often carried it with him, tucking his sausage fingers through the plastic loop on the lid, but I could be patient. 

I watched. I waited.

When he finally left his water unattended, he was standing in the corner of the gym, watching the girls play basketball.

He wasn't a coach.

I wasn't scared about what I had to do, I just wanted to make sure I did it right. I squeezed the whole bottle into his water. Every last drop. If it didn't work, I wasn't sure what would happen. Probably nothing. He'd throw up, but not know why. He certainly wouldn't know it was me.

I didn't risk hanging around to see if he'd actually drink the water. I headed home and tried to understand the knot of emotion in my chest.

When he didn't come to school Monday, I thought it was a coincidence. We met Ms. March that day, and she didn't say anything about how long she'd be with us. The principal didn't make an announcement. Students are talking in the hall, but it's all gossip. Rumors. Even though much of it is true. 

Annamarie hasn't returned my calls. I don't see her at lunch anymore. She doesn't know what I did for her, but I wish she would talk to me. I wish I could see her face, even in a crowd, and know that she is happy. But I can't find her anywhere.

438 words

[prompt from The Writer's Center]