What We Take Away

Chapter 3 | Cassie

September 2nd, 2005

I glance warily at the classroom clock. The minutes tick by slowly. Stifling a sigh, I turn my attention to the green chalkboard where Dr. Hahn, our honors freshman chemistry professor is drawing a complex diagram. Her silvery, frizzing hair shakes as her hand dances across the board. Patting her hands, she smiles at the sixty-four pair of eyes staring at the board with rapt attention.

Back in high school, I scored nearly perfect marks in chemistry. But Dr. Hahn might as well be teaching in a different language because I can barely stay afloat during her lectures. My hand hovers nervously above the notebook on my desk, anxiously awaiting her instruction.

"Chemistry," Dr. Hahn begins, "is about affinities and relationships. Understand the molecules and how they react and relate to one another, and you will be able to master chemistry. Tell me—" she says, scanning the room. "What do we call molecules that are attracted to water?"

Immediately, hands fly up around me. Dr. Hahn nods at Abbie, a girl with short, dark brown hair at the end of the first row.

"Hydrophilic molecules," she states confidently.

Dr. Hahn nods. "Correct. Someone else, tell me more?"

Paul, a disheveled-looking boy with a baseball hat in the middle of the room interjects in a deep baritone voice. "Hydrophilic molecules are polar molecules."

"And they can form hydrogen bonds," another girl pipes from the back of the room.

Dr. Hahn smiles. "Can anyone give me an example of a hydrophilic molecule?"

A voice sounds to my left. "Salts and sugars."

"Excellent. And what do we call molecules that fear water?" Dr. Hahn begins to pace.

"Hydrophobic molecules," a girl named Nara responds.

"And what are their properties?"

"Hydrophobic molecules are nonpolar and make clusters in water. Like oils and fats."

My head spins in dizzying circles as I try to keep track of all the responses. This wasn't part of the assigned reading... how does everyone seem to know this material? Puzzled, I flip through the class syllabus discreetly but find nothing helpful.

For the remainder of our class time, Dr. Hahn breaks us up into working groups and gives us problem sets to solve. My groupmates charge through the problems with ease, but I struggle to follow along. Flustered, I keep my head down and silently swear to double my efforts in chemistry. By the time Dr. Hahn ends class by announcing the date of our first exam, I am more than ready to flee. Scrambling out of my chair, I sweep my belongings into my arms and scurry out of the door.

I hug my books to my chest as I hurry down the steps of Cassowary Hall and onto the Lawn, the long stretch of green that runs the length of central campus. My cheeks burn with embarrassment and anger as I stomp down the brick path, passing students as they exit the stately buildings.

It's the third day of classes, and already I feel like I'm drowning. Why did I think choosing to be a pre-medicine major would be a good idea? Still, if it's what it takes to make Ba finally see me, then...

"Hey!" someone calls behind me. "Hey, wait up!"

Startled, I gaze over my shoulder.

"I thought I recognized you! Swan Hall second floor—#219, right?"

The speaker is tall, striking, and well-dressed in a light pink linen shirt and chino shorts. His skin is deep brown, and his eyes are kind. Smiling, he extends a hand.