Frost

 Celeste sat up straight. “Why did you do that?” she asked me, alarmed.

“I didn’t,” I said. “It blew shut.”

“Blew shut?”

She stared at the closet as if she couldn’t quite grasp the concept. Then lay back down, not taking her eyes off it, making sure it didn’t startle her with another sudden noise. Finally, she drew the sheet over her head again.

“’Night,” I said to her covered figure as I turned off the light and headed to the bathroom.

“I doubt it,” she said. “Not in here.”

Chapter 9

I STEADIED MY FEET ON THE CHAIR as I reached up, drill in hand, and repeated, “Many prokaryotes are able to take up nonviral DNA molecules,” in an accent like the Terminator’s.

 It was Saturday morning after our first week of classes, and I was multitasking: switching the old, broken shades for new ones I’d bought at the mall, while listening to my recording of Friday’s unnervingly complicated lecture by my bio teacher, Mr. Baumschlager.

 Not exactly how I wanted to spend a day without classes, but it needed to be done. Celeste had had insomnia all week, and continued to be paranoid that someone could be watching her through the windows. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t share her caution—it was true that a person in the backyard could have seen everything we were doing. To me, though, the garden felt like an extension of my space.

 As for the bio lecture, after struggling in a couple of subjects at Barcroft, I’d figured out that the more a subject daunted me, the more trouble I had paying attention in class. Apparently, my brain left the room when it was confused. Ritalin hadn’t worked, so—at the suggestion of a tutor—I’d started recording and re-listening to classes last year, and had made honor roll for the first time.

“The genomes of eubacteria, archaea, and eukaryotes—”

A knock came at the door behind me. I turned. David stood in the doorway, hands in the pockets of his low-riding jeans, wearing an orange tee that said I LIKE PI on it.

 “I expected you to be more muscular,” he said, smiling. “And male.”

“Herr Baumschlager.” I stepped down from the chair and moved over to my laptop to pause it. “Yesterday’s bio lecture. I enjoyed it so much the first time I had to listen again.” I figured I didn’t need to be embarrassed about my nerdiness in front of a guy with math humor on his shirt.

 “My sister around?” he said. “She called me to help you guys do something. Hang these blinds, I guess?” He picked one up off the floor, still rolled and wrapped in plastic.

 “Really?” This was my project. I hadn’t asked her to call him. “She’s not even here. Her wireless connection wasn’t working so she went to the library.”

“God, she’s such a twerp sometimes.” David shook his head, like he was sort of annoyed, sort of amused. “Well, since I’m here, at least let me help. She asked me to hang that photo of hers, too.”

 Usually, I preferred to do projects alone. But I did have a ton of homework this weekend and was supposed to take Anya to the park tomorrow. “Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

We headed down the hall to get parietals.

 Over the past week, I’d run into David around campus and here in the dorm a few times. Always happily. Aside from the gorgeous thing, he was friendly and easygoing, and knowing he was around made me feel like if I ever had a major problem with Celeste, there was someone sane who could mediate. It was pretty obvious he was an equal-opportunity flirter, so I wasn’t convinced that, like Celeste had said, he’d noticed me in particular. But since it didn’t matter either way, I just enjoyed the buzz I got from his attention.

Back in the room after getting parietals from Ms. Martin, I assigned David the duty of measuring for the new brackets, while I finished up removing the old ones.

When the drill stopped screeching, he asked, “Where’d you learn how to use power tools?”

“My dad,” I said. “He’s a carpenter, old-house restorer guy. Big into DIY.”

“My dad’s smart as hell,” David said. “But the only thing he can hit with a hammer is his thumb.”

“It takes practice.” I wondered if his dad was a mathematician, like David. Like the man in the movie A Beautiful Mind. “I’ve been using tools since I was a kid,” I said. “I made that bookshelf this summer.”

I turned to point and noticed not only the muscles in David’s back when he raised his hands, but also what he was doing. “Are you measuring the front of the molding?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Why?”

“With this type of molding and these brackets, it has to go inside the frame. See?” I held one up and demonstrated.

“Oh. Right.” He smiled. “Maybe I’ll hang the photo first.”

I took down the last of the old brackets as he got the frame from her closet. “So, you inherited your dad’s,” I coughed, “talent with this stuff. Is he where you got your brain for spoon math, too?”

“My what?” David said.