I lean on the podium, taking everything in while waiting for the two of them to finish before clearing my throat.
“Mr. Kahale?”
His chin juts up, flashing me a guilty smile over the disruption, but not over kidnapping my parent. The universe is either conspiring for my demise, or these two are. Possibly both.
“The other day, you said it was an odd number of students, and my leaving made it even. I figured since I was back in class and still needed a partner, who better than Dr. Rossi?”
I glance between them, my father’s smile wide as if this is an entirely normal thing to do. Diego, at least, has the good sense to keep his expression neutral, though I don’t miss the flicker of tension in his jaw.
“You can’t be serious.”
I cross my arms, the students’ gaze volleys between him and me, waiting to see how this will play out.
“Why not?” My father lifts his good hand, gesturing at his sudden lab partner. “He’s a smart kid and enjoys your class. It’ll be fun.”
The students, sensing the shift in tone, start whispering among themselves. I feel the heat rise to my face as their shared conspiracy erodes my control over the classroom. I glance at Diego, who looks like he’s waiting for a nuclear reactor to explode.
“This isn’t a game.”
I point at them, feeling oddly out of place as they team up against me.
Is this how Mother felt?
“It’s not,” Papà replies, his tone infuriatingly cheerful. “It’s science.”
“It’s not a big deal, Professor,” Diego defends beside my dad.
Yeah, this is exactly how my mother felt when I parroted my father all those years to her voiced concerns.
“You figured wrong.”
Diego’s jaw tightens, but he holds my stare.
“Cara, I’m more than happy to help a student of science. Maybe less capable than I’d like.”
He lifts his sling for effect, his gaze moving over the interested faces, enthralled with our exchange.
“If you would do me the honor of auditing your class?”
I take a sharp breath, trying to rein in my frustration.
“Fine. Everyone, this is the esteemed Dr. Raffael Rossi. A retired tenured chemist from Princeton University, a well-published scientist, my father, and apparently Mr. Kahale’s lab partner. Welcome to Advanced Organic Chemistry.”
My introduction floats over the students’ whispers to the person undermining my authority again. This time, he has an accomplice and, unfortunately, a chemistry genius. The room erupts in a round of applause.
My father beams and nods several times while I tamper down my emotions to start the lab. I gaze at the new partners in crime, watching Diego set up their workstations and wondering what new game he’s playing.
I exhale, knowing it’s another discussion pushed aside to focus on my lesson for the day.
The two of them work together like a well-oiled machine. Diego’s hands move deftly, measuring liquids and adjusting burners with the ease of someone who’s spent plenty of time in a lab.
Despite his sling, my father leans in close, gestures at the periodic table hanging on the wall, or scribbles something on a nearby notepad.
Every now and then, Diego leans in to say something, and Papà responds with something that lights up his face. It’s clear they are having a good time, much to my annoyance. They’re too comfortable, too in sync with each other.
It’s distracting, to say the least.
When the clock finally ticks down to the last minute, I dismiss the class. Some linger to tidy their stations and offer polite goodbyes to my father, but most shuffle out quickly. Diego, of course, stays behind, unbothered and unrushed.
