Round three is science, and the question is about which two elements on the periodic table are liquid at room temperature.
Someone shouts the first one—mercury.
As for the second, I have no idea.
Patton’s jaw ticks. I take this to mean he doesn’t know either.
I’m desperate because, according to the points on the board, we’re at risk of going out this round.
Mindy mouths something at me from across the table. I can’t read lips. She tries again, exaggerating each word. “Brr-oh …”
Is she cold? She doesn’t seem to be shivering.
Brr-oh is not an answer. It doesn’t sound familiar, but high school chem class seems like a lifetime ago.
Austin taps out Morse code on the table. At least, I think it’s Morse code. Could be a nervous tic.
Patton’s phone keeps buzzing. He’s ignoring it, but the vibrations are so loud that people at the next table keep looking our way.
My phone sits innocently in front of me. What’s the other element? I’m not going to look it up out of curiosity. But if I did, I definitely wouldn’t share the answer.
But what if I just … verified? What if I just made sure I wasn’t about to say something completely wrong?
I pick it up and type quickly. The screen is greasy from when I snuck one of Patton’s nachos after he denied me. The creep wouldn’t share!
His phone buzzes so violently that it falls off the table and clatters to the floor.
Everyone stares.
He bends down to grab it, bumping me with his big, dumb elbow. My finger slips and my phone’s smooth robot voice blares from my speaker at full volume, “The two elements from the periodic table that are liquid at room temperature, measured at twenty-five degrees Celsius, are mercury and bromine.”
Every customer at Huck’s goes silent.
Silver Sam Howell points at our table. “That’s cheating! Disqualified!”
My face burns hotter than the summer sun on pavement. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to?—”
“She was looking it up,” someone from another table calls out.
I want to melt into the grimy floorboards. Grandma looks horrified. Mayor Barbie raises her eyebrows. Judy Waples shakes her head in disapproval. The room is dead quiet.
“I was just checking—” I start, but Patton’s phone vibrates.
And vibrates again.
And again.
Lucky narrows his eyes. “What’s that? Is there a fire?”
Patton waves his hand. “No, nothing to worry about.”
Everyone in the room starts talking.
Patton peers at his phone, displaying text after text from Scotty—another EMT like Patton and a firefighter on the crew.
“Were you asking for answers?” I accuse with a hiss.
“You were searching for answers,” Patton fires back.
