Chapter One
Josie
The most common cycloaddition reaction is the Diels-Alder reaction, in which the two reactants are referred to as the diene and the dienophile. The stereospecificity of these reactions should be evident.
Evident? Evident?
I huffed out a breath and sagged forward in my desk chair until my forehead rested against my palms. For a few seconds, I just sat there, eyes closed as I took a series of deep breaths, in and out.
I can do this, I told myself. I pulled an A in organic chemistry. I had to do the same for the advanced class.
Time for a break, I decided. My joints ached from hours parked in front of my creaky little desk, and my tired brain wouldn’t absorb anything else until I ate a good meal, drank some caffeine and maybe took a nap. I heard the popping of neglected joints as I rose to my feet and stretched—joints that used to cooperate when I made a little more time for yoga. But with so much time spent hunched over lab equipment or study materials lately instead of easing into chaturanga dandasana, I snap-crackle-popped like breakfast cereal.
It’s worth it, I told myself. When you ace your entrance exams and get into an awesome medical school, it will all have been worth it.
But for at least a few minutes, I let myself walk away from advanced organic chemistry and wandered into my kitchen for some coffee and to poke at my leftovers from last night’s Thai takeout. The wood floors creaked underfoot as I padded down the narrow hallway with its pitched ceiling.
We—my roommate Fatima and I—occupied the top floor of an old house that had long ago been divided into shabby little student apartments. Close enough that I could ride my bike to campus when I felt like it, far enough that our neighbors were mainly graduate students and professors instead of undergraduates throwing loud parties—something Fatima and I, both a couple of type-A lab geeks who would rather study than socialize, were allergic to.
“Hey,” I said with a yawn as I brushed past Fatima in the kitchen and headed for the coffeepot. “Where’ve you been at?”
“Had to babysit an experiment at the physics lab.” Fatima reached up to adjust a loose pin in the folds of her hijab. “Dr. Matsui dangled some research paper credit if I took a few night shifts.”
She yawned widely as she shuffled through a small pile of mail, pausing when she reached a wrinkled envelope with a handwritten address.
“What’s that?” I reached for the can of coffee and dumped two scoops of grounds into the filter.
Fatima frowned. “Letter from the landlord.” She tore open the envelope and pulled out the contents, a single thin sheet of paper, and I stood in apprehensive silence as she scanned the page, her frown deepening.
“What?” I finally said. “Is there something wrong?”
She sighed and held the letter out to me. “We’re being evicted.” Fatima still looked serene, despite the bomb she’d just dropped—she always did. Remaining calm at all times was her superpower, she often said.
“Evicted?” I fumbled for the letter while behind me, the coffee machine gurgled, forgotten. I was wide awake now, no additional caffeine required.
The letter was curt and crisp—our landlord was going to refurbish and sell the house. And her tenants—Fatima and I upstairs and a pair of married graduate students downstairs—had two weeks to pack up and get out.
“She can’t do this,” I muttered as I scanned the letter again.
Fatima crossed her arms, the frown still stamped on her beautiful face. “I’m pretty sure she can,” she said. “We’re month-to-month right now, remember?”
My belly just about sank to the floor. Fatima was right—we had gone month-to-month on our lease a few months ago as we both finished up the last bits and pieces of our degrees and figured out where we would go next. I knew I wouldn’t stay in this apartment forever, but I didn’t expect the landlord to ditch us quite so brutally.
I dropped the letter on the counter in front of me and slumped over, propping my elbows on the cool laminate surface as I massaged my temples. “Bet she made a mint.”
“Probably,” Fatima agreed. “Housing prices the way they are? She probably made out like a bandit.” She sighed. “I was going to stay here after graduation until my graduate program started, but I guess I’ll take off after finals and head home to Portland to stay with my family for a couple months.” Fatima looked up at me and shrugged. “Do you want to tag along? My parents have plenty of room and you might like the change of scenery.”
I shook my head. “Thanks for the offer, but I can’t. I still have another semester, remember? Plus my lab job and everything. And I want to hang with my family, especially if I don’t know how much longer I’ll be in the same city.”
Fatima nodded, the corner of her lip quirking into an understanding smile. “Yeah, I get it. But I still want you to come visit me.”
And just as suddenly, the smile fell, and we stood there silently in our shared crisis. Fatima was my closest friend at Pacific State, and I would be desperately lonely for her after she left for Portland.
“Well,” she said after a long moment, straightening from her spot next to me at the kitchen counter. “I guess I need to catch some sleep and then maybe get started packing. Not a lot of time to waste.”
Fatima yawned again and disappeared down the short hallway and into her little bedroom at the end of the hall, leaving me alone at the kitchen counter, still clutching that letter and wondering what the hell I was going to do. The price of rent was insane right now in Seattle, and I didn’t have the time or, frankly, the patience or people skills, to go find a new roommate who ticked all my boxes.
Still, I wasn’t completely without options. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and scrolled through my contacts until I found my older brother’s number. He might be on shift at the hospital, but maybe I could catch him between patients.