Field Physics

Chapter 3: Mutual Experiment

Sam paced outside the university science building, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. The air was crisp, and he could see his breath in front of him as he muttered under it. He had spent half the morning working up the nerve to walk in here, and each step toward Lydia's lab felt like a little personal defeat. This was the girl his mom was always mentioning as "such a nice, smart young lady." The one who lived across the street and, judging by the number of certificates on her parents' fridge, probably knew the answers to every chemistry question on the planet.

And he was supposed to ask her for help.

He stopped in his tracks and let out a sigh. Why was this so hard? He had talked to coaches, taken grueling advice, learned to throw his body at running opponents, but somehow... asking for help from Lydia felt like a different kind of challenge.

After a moment of steeling himself, Sam finally pushed through the building doors and wandered down the dim hallway until he saw the lab marked with Lydia's name. The door was slightly open, and as he peered inside, he saw her, hunched over a mess of notes and graphs, a pencil tucked into the bun of her curly hair, eyes narrowed at her screen. The faint hum of lab equipment and the soft glow of a desk lamp added a quiet intensity to the scene.

He raised a hand to knock, but at the last second, Lydia spoke, not even looking up from her work.

"Sam, I heard you walking up five minutes ago. Just come in," she said, barely stifling a smirk.

Sam blinked, caught off guard. How could she always seem so... on top of everything? He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, feeling like he was entering a different world.

"Hey, Lydia," he said, trying to sound casual. "I, uh, need a little help."

Lydia raised an eyebrow and finally looked up, clearly amused. "Let me guess. You want to learn how to tackle using 'science'?"

Sam flushed, scratching the back of his neck. "Actually... yeah. Coach said I need to understand the physics of a tackle. Apparently, it's a whole thing with angles and force and... well, all the stuff you seem to know."

Lydia rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. "So, your entire sports strategy is basically... the scientific equivalent of hitting things really hard and hoping for the best?"

Sam's face turned redder. "Well, it sounds dumb when you say it like that. But yeah, I'm just trying to get better. And apparently, there's a lot I don't know about how to use my... momentum or something."

She sighed, as if this were a chore, but he caught a tiny smile tugging at her lips. "Fine. I'll help you. But it's going to be a two-way street. You're going to help me with my research."

His eyebrows shot up. "What? Research? What would I even do?"

Lydia pointed to a stack of data sheets and raised her eyebrows. "You're an athlete. I need more people in my sample for a physical performance study. It's about energy output in repeated motion—perfect for, say, a football player running drills. I'm way behind on gathering data, and... I could use someone who's, well, committed. Like you." She managed to avoid saying "desperate," which Sam appreciated.

Sam rubbed his chin, considering it. He had never imagined himself as a science guinea pig, but the thought of learning to tackle better and helping out in return didn't seem so bad. Besides, Lydia was smart. If anyone could help him understand how to improve his game, it was her.

"Alright, deal," he said finally, trying to sound casual but feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety. "But no weird experiments, alright? I don't want to end up glowing in the dark or something."