Love and Other Unknown Variables by Shannon Alexander

large wedge of pizza, the steam still rising from the cheese. She and Becca are at the table. Mom and Dad are perched on the stools around the kitchen island. Charlotte pats the chair next to her. We begin to eat in comfortable silence.
    I take a bite of my pizza, immediately spitting it back onto the plate. “Hooooot,” I breathe, my upper palate cauterized.
    “You okay, honey?” Mom asks, holding out a napkin for me, like a paper napkin is any kind of salve for fried flesh. I’m afraid talking would slough off the tender layer of skin I’ve singed, so I give her a thumbs up before waving away the napkin.
    Charlotte hands me her water, saying, “This’ll help.” Our fingers overlap around the glass. Adjacent points.
    The heat between our fingers is more intense than the molten cheese that just laid waste to my mouth. Dear god of numbers, help me, but I want to be burned alive right now.

3.0
    G reta and I are lab partners. As soon as Dr. Hale sets us loose to run our lab experiments the next morning, Greta says, “We need to talk.”
    I freeze with my head in the storage cupboard, wondering, if I stabbed myself in the eye with this test tube, would I still “need to talk?” Probably.
    I grab our supplies and set them on the lab table between us. “I’d love to talk about how we’re going to test Hooke’s Law on this rubber band.” I pull one of the rubber bands taut and let it loose. It flies across the room and lands in Misty’s hair. She doesn’t notice.
    Greta gives me a why-are-you-so-dense look before pulling the equipment toward her on our table. She moves with speed and grace setting up the experiment. Once it is ready, she crosses her arms over her chest and snaps, “Happy? Now listen.”
    “How’d you do that?” I nod at the elaborate set-up before me.
    Greta shrugs. “About last night—”
    “Yeah, sorry to bail, but I got home from Dimwit’s and was too tired to go out. I didn’t think you guys would mind.”
    “I saw you. At the window. I saw you leave.”
    I’ve wrapped a rubber band around my finger so that the tip is turning purplish. “I didn’t want to be in the way.”
    “That’s stupid. You know that, right?”
    “Of course I know that.” I release my finger from bondage. I can feel my heartbeat throb under the nail.
    Greta grabs a rubber band from the pile on the table and aims it at me. “I mean it. Chances of me killing James are much less if he’s got a witness around. You’re doing him a favor.”
    “Sure.”
    “You don’t believe me?” She pulls the rubber band tauter.
    I hold my hands up in surrender. “I totally believe you.”
    Dr. Hale walks by checking experiments. “At ease, soldier,” he says to Greta. He rushes to help Jacob and Rashaad shouting, “Nonononono! Not like that, boys!”
    We turn back to our own work. I appreciate what Greta is saying. It’s not like she and James throw their relationship in my face. They’re discreet.
    But three is an odd number.
    I want to tell her about Charlotte. I want to explain that I couldn’t hang out with James and her last night because for the first time ever I want what they have. Maybe. At least, I think I want what they have. I don’t know. I do know I want to kiss Charlotte.
    That I know.
    ---
    B y the time I reach Mrs. Dunwitty’s house, my nerves are as knotted as the gray clouds looming over the pines. She’s waiting for me, as usual, on her front porch. When I get out of the car, she motions for me to follow her around to the back of the house.
    “You’ve got to get busy if you’re planning on staying dry,” she’s saying as we walk to a small outbuilding made of windows.
    “What’s this?”
    “Greenhouse. My Darryl built it for me years ago.” She opens the door and we duck inside. “I keep my babies in here.”
    The heat in the greenhouse hits me like a fist in my chest. The idea of Dimwit as the old witch in the candy house cooking up children feels about right.
    Mrs. Dunwitty