I shake my head. “No. But… it’s not outside the realm of possibility, you know?”
Abe scratches his chin, where he’s got a bit of red stubble growing. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first person to faint in the anatomy lab. It’s notthatbig a deal.”
I consider telling Abe my fear about fainting in the puddle of vomit, but I decide against it.
“It would be embarrassing,” is all I say.
Abe nods in understanding. I hadn’t realized when I met him earlier, but he has really nice, kind green eyes.
“How about this? If you faint, I’ll catch you and whisk you out into the hall before anyone notices,” he says.
“You’dcatchme?” I’m a bit skeptical, considering Abe seems like kind of an oaf. Maybe I’m just being biased because of his size. Then again, he did manage to practically break my foot yesterday.
“Seriously, I have catlike reflexes,” Abe assures me, although he’s grinning. “So which table were you assigned to?”
“Thirteen,” I reply.
Abe brightens. “Hey, me too.”
I feel a flash of relief. Whatever else I know about this guy, he definitely will make sure I’m okay if I start to faint. Despite his intimidating size, he seems very nice.
We weave through the tables of dead bodies, finally coming to a stop in front of a table with a big laminated paper that says “13” on it. This is us, I guess, lucky 13. We’re the first to arrive, and the body is still draped in thick, clear plastic.
“You okay?” Abe asks me, lifting his eyebrows. “Should I… remove the plastic?”
I nod and brace myself.
Abe yanks the plastic off the body. Too fast. Embalming fluid or other cadaver juice squirts into the air, generously peppering my forearms. I scream in absolute horror.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Abe gasps.
He’s sorry, and I’m drenched in cadaver juice. I race over to the nearest sink and submerge my arms in the hottest water the sink will provide. I soap myself up practically to my shoulders, wash my arms off, then do it again. This is so disgusting.
Well, at least it didn’t get in my face. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s Abe’s encore. From now on, I’m keeping my mouth closed during the lab—the last thing I want is to taste the cadaver.
By the time I get back to the table, two more members of my five-person lab group have arrived. One is a tiny, olive-skinned girl with dark-brown hair swept back into a ponytail—she looks almost like a child standing next to gigantic Abe. And then there’s the other member of the group: Dreamy McCutie, the guy who changed in front of me by the lockers. My knees buckle slightly when I see him.
“I’m really sorry,” Abe says to me again when I return.
I nod at him, noting that Dreamy McCutie is snickering slightly as he pries open our dissection kit. Abe must have toldthem what he did to me. I’d vow revenge on him if he didn’t look so upset about the whole thing.
“I’m Heather,” I say to my two new lab partners. I don’t bother to offer my hand, since they’re both already wearing blue rubber gloves.
“Mason,” says Dreamy McCutie (apparently actually named Mason). He glances up at me only briefly before going back to rifling through our dissection kit. He fishes out a scalpel and examines the blade carefully through narrowed hazel eyes.
The tiny girl gives me a little wave and speaks in a voice that’s barely a whisper, “I’m Sonya.”
“Nice to meet you, Sonya.”
“Sasha.”
“Oh, sorry. Sasha.”
I can barely hear her. She’s one of those people who would benefit from a volume knob.
“Mason and I are roommates,” Abe explains to me. “They usually assign roommates to be lab partners to make it easier to share study materials.”
“Oh.” I glance at tiny Sasha. “But Sasha and I aren’t roommates.”
