"Okay, class," Mr. Donald announced. "We have a very special project today."

Uuuuuuuuuuuuh! I hated science, but math was worse. 

Mr.Donald kept making us perform weird-ass experiments that had little to do with our grades. I totally have no plans to become a mad scientist in the future. But thank god I wasn’t dissecting a frog. I would be sick to my stomach for half a year! 

Mr. Donald picked up a plastic box and placed it on his desk. God, he totally looked like a mad scientist with a white lab coat. White puffy hair, twirling mustache, eyes as big as my fist behind his eyes? Yeah, that fitted his description.

I swore the school found him inside a secret lab, building an army of zombies. What were they thinking?

"In this box are silver metal bars," he said. "You will grab each one and drop acid on them. While the acid burns on the bars, you will write how the acid reacts to the silver."

How fun…..

Next to me, Colly raised his hand. 

Mr. Donald pointed his finger at him. "Yes, Colly?"

"How are we supposed to write how the acid reacts to the silver?"

"Just describe what is happening to the silver. This assignment requires your best observation of chemical reactions. Using your eyes and writing on your sheet will be your only tools for study. And don't worry. This will not be part of the upcoming quiz"

I rolled my eyes.

Hardly anyone would be interested in watching acid melt a bar of metal, except for nerds.

"Jessica, can you please take this box and hand the bars to each student?" Mr.Donald asked.

As you wish, Dr. Frankenstein.

I walked over to his desk and picked up the box. It surprised me it wasn't too heavy. Thank god, or else I would have dropped it by mistake, hitting my toe. That would surely get me out of school early. Not that I wouldn't mind, but it would hurt like hell. 

I placed the box on the counter at the left side of the classroom. When I grabbed one silver bar, something burned my fingers. 

"Ouch!" I thrust my hand out of the box and kissed my poor fingers. 

Yucks! I got red burn marks all over my hand!

It's like the teacher left the bars in a hot oven. 

While I rubbed my hand, Mr. Donald approached me. "Is everything alright?" 

I showed him my burnt hand. "No! Those bars are hot!"

Mr.Donald stared at the bars and touched one. "No, they're not."

How totally odd. I poked one bar and screamed louder. "Ouch!"

"What is wrong with you, Jessica?" 

  I kissed my poor finger. "I don't know! It hurts!"

Mr.Donald glanced at my hand. "Must be some kind of allergic reaction. You better see the nurse."

I nodded and walked out through the classroom door. God, my hand still hurts! 

How could silver burn me when it was freaking cold? Was I allergic to silver now? 

I approached the door to the nurse’s office and knocked on it.

“Come in,” said the nurse’s voice.

I pushed the door open and stepped into the white office with curtains covering the window. I would say the office wasn’t as bad as Mr.Donald’s class if it wasn’t for the human anatomy portrait hanging before the desk. A picture of a human showing their insides wasn’t a good cup of tea for the patients.

From the restroom, the nurse stepped out, tugging her white skirt. She was a middle-aged woman with a red ponytail and glasses on her face. 

Before she approached her desk, her buggy eyes shot toward me. “Oh! Sorry about that. How can I help you?”

I held up my red hand. “I got burnt when I touched silver. I don’t know how it happened.”

The nurse stared at my red hand. “Yes, that looks pretty bad. Was the silver hot?”

“It felt hot, but Mr.Donald said the silver isn’t hot. It totally burned my hand.”

The nurse let go of my hand. “Hmmmmmm….. Let me get you an ice packet. You can sit over there.”

I sat on one bed near the corner, still shivering while my hand arched.

Geez, if this damn thing doesn’t heal soon, I won’t be able to continue cheerleading. The girls will be totally disappointed.

“Here you go." The nurse handed me an ice pack. “Place it on your hand and wait for five minutes. The pain should go away soon.”

“Okay.”

The nurse left me a grin and returned to her desk to type on her computer.

Typical.

I sighed and pressed the ice bag on my hand. The coldness was already cooling off the heat, erasing the dull pain away.

 Maybe with luck, my hand will heal quickly so I wouldn't skip my cheerleading practices. Please heal fast! Please heal fast!

After five minutes, the nurse walked back toward me. “May I see your hand?”

I held out my burnt hand, but my hand was pink and clean with no trace of dead skin.

“Well, that went fast,” said the nurse.

I moved my hand around. “It feels fine now.”

“Yeah, but it usually takes two weeks for a burn to heal. You must have eaten a lot of vitamins.”

I lowered my hand and shrugged. “I guessed so.”

“So you touched silver that isn’t hot, but it burned your hand, right?”

“Yes. I am totally not making that up.”

The nurse straightened her glasses. “I never heard a person getting burned by silver before when it is cool. Whatever happened, I think you are fine now. To be on the safe side, don’t touch silver again. It could be some type of allergic reaction.”

I nodded.

What was happening to me?