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CHAPTER 1
NEVER TRUST AN ATOM. THEY MAKE UP EVERYTHING.
* * *
Dr. Lewis, head of the chemistry department at the University of Pennsylvania, sat stiffly at his large, imposing desk. The sun made the wood in his office take on a honeyed glow, and it illuminated the words etched in the stained-glass window behind him.
Sapientia et Veritas. Knowledge and Truth.
They seemed like very important words all of a sudden.
"Do you have anything you'd like to share with me, Miss O'Leary?" he asked.
My heart pounded as I struggled to figure out where this was leading. I'd worked as his teaching assistant for the last two years, but he'd never once looked at me with such animosity in his expression, and I'd never heard such an undercurrent of fury in his voice.
"No. Is there a problem?"
He slid a manila envelope across the desk, avoiding direct contact with my hands like he couldn't bear to get too close to me. Frowning, I opened the envelope, revealing the answer key to the test I'd given in my organic chemistry class yesterday. My initials clearly marked the bottom of the page, and my full name, Grace O'Leary, stood out in large block letters across the top. This looked like my copy, but I knew with absolute certainty I'd tucked my answer key into my briefcase last night, putting it, as always, in the spot right next to my laptop.
I lifted my briefcase onto my lap and rummaged through it, growing more panicked by the minute. When my long red hair fell forward, blocking my face like a curtain, I shoved it behind my ears and resumed my search, but the answer key wasn't there.
My gaze shot to Dr. Lewis, but he refused to meet my eyes. "Where did you get that answer key?" I asked.
"A student found it on the floor of the classroom following the exam yesterday afternoon. According to him, you gave it to several of your students prior to the test to ensure they passed. Additional evidence, acquired during confidential discussions, supported this accusation."
"Confidential discussions with whom?" I asked. My throat tightened, but I needed to remain calm. Getting upset would only make this situation worse.
Dr. Lewis's expression grew even more shuttered. "I'm not at liberty to divulge such information, but I can tell you the student who found your key is the son of one of our wealthiest contributors."
"You're talking about Seth Billings, aren't you?"
Seth's father, a famous chemist and a prominent Penn alumnus, donated millions of dollars every year to the school. He had even more power than Dr. Lewis, and Dr. Lewis was like a god on campus.
"Yes, Seth Billings," he said. "He demonstrated great bravery by stepping forward with this information. I commend him for it, in fact."
"He's lying."
Dr. Lewis's eyes narrowed. "It's your word against his."
I knew one way to be certain this was the answer key I brought home with me last night. I opened it to the third page, fumbling in my haste.
"I always review the key before grading the tests. Yesterday, I found a mistake, two transposed numbers, and I corrected them at my apartment last night. If Seth found this key right after the test, it wouldn't have these corrections on it."
He glanced at the answer key and then waved his hand dismissively. "Did anyone actually see you make those corrections?"
I shook my head, numb. My boyfriend Jonathan Gottfried, a TA in the same department, hadn't been around when I looked over the answer key. I'd eaten a quick dinner and left for the lab soon afterward. Most evenings followed the same schedule. As I worked on the final stages of my Ph.D. thesis, I spent a great deal of my time at the lab. Yesterday, I got home after Jonathan had already fallen asleep. No one could corroborate any part of my story.
"Well, I guess we're done here. Good day, Ms. O'Leary. Leave your security fob with my secretary on your way out."
I clenched my hands into fists. "This isn't fair. You've reached a preconceived conclusion without studying the evidence, the opposite of everything you've taught me, Dr. Lewis. You're ignoring half the variables in this equation."
"Untrue, Ms. O'Leary. I'm following procedure, and I am always fair. A review board made up of your peers will make a decision on this matter in two months' time. Until then you are persona non grata, suspended both academically and as an employee of this university. Roger will take over your classes."
"But I'm only months away from finishing —"
"You should have thought of that before handing out answer keys." Dr. Lewis stood and packed up his briefcase, his tone hard and unyielding. "I repeat, good day, Miss O'Leary."
I managed to rise to my feet and stumble out the door. Roger, another TA in the chemistry department and Jonathan's best friend, waited outside with a cruel smirk on his face. I ignored him. I walked home in a fog, hardly registering the brisk chill in the air or the colorful leaves crunching under my feet.
Two months signaled a death knell for my Ph.D. work, but this encompassed more than my studies and my reputation. It unjustly sullied my character as well. I'd never cheated in my whole entire life. Raised by my detective father and teacher mom with a firm hand and a healthy dose of Irish Catholic guilt, I followed the rules, respected authority, and kept my nose clean. This made no logical sense. Someone had obviously set me up, but who could have done this, and why?
When I got back to our apartment, Jonathan stood next to an open suitcase on our bed. His blond hair stuck up in a disheveled mess, and a muscle worked in his jaw.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
He'd emptied his side of our closet and now dug through the chest of drawers, his movements erratic and angry. Twin spots of color bloomed on his pale cheeks.
"How could you, Grace?" he asked, his voice dripping with disgust.
I sank onto the chair in the corner of our room. Normally, Jonathan covered it with his laundry, but today he'd thrown the whole pile into his suitcase. One positive aspect to the fact that he appeared to be leaving me; I wouldn't have to yell at him to pick up his laundry anymore.
"I assume Roger told you what happened," I said. He responded with a curt nod. A giant lump formed in my throat, making it hard to swallow. "And you believed it?"
"Dr. Lewis thinks you did it, which is all I need to know." He slammed his suitcase shut. "This is terrible. Did you ever once consider how your actions affected me?"
I stared at him, dumbfounded. "No, I did not. Please enlighten me."
Jonathan hefted the suitcase off the bed and carried it to the front door. I followed him. "Unlike you, I'm not the darling of the department, but I am on track for a permanent teaching position. My thesis is nearly done, and I have to present it soon. How would it look if they knew about my association with you? It's not worth the risk."
We'd lived together for six months, and dated for several years, but right now a complete stranger stood in front of me. "You mean I'm not worth the risk."
His expression softened, and for a second, I saw the man I'd fallen for more than two years ago. "I care about you, but this job is my life. I'm in a vulnerable position. I can't risk it for anything, not even you. I hope you understand."
In a funny way, I did understand, but I needed his support right now, both as a boyfriend and a colleague. "Maybe if you stood up for me —"
He interrupted me. "You know I can't play Russian roulette with my career. I'm moving in with Roger for now. They gave him all your classes, by the way. If that isn't the biggest slap in the face."
I never realized what a selfish and weak human being Jonathan was until those words came out of his mouth. I wanted to throw something at him, but composed myself, donning a mask of cool, politeness.
"I'm so sorry to inconvenience you."
Jonathan missed the sarcasm in my words. He ran a hand through his thinning hair. His premature balding brought me an absurd amount of satisfaction at the moment.
"If the charges are dismissed in November, maybe we can resume our relationship."
"Not a chance," I said, my temper flaring. "Get out. I never want to see you again. You are such a ..." I paused, the words hovering on my tongue.
"A what, Grace? What am I?" Now he sounded angry, too, and his anger pushed me to respond, to tell him what I honestly thought of him.
"A scyphozoan."
He blinked. "A jellyfish?"
"Exactly. Totally spineless. No brain. No heart. And since they have no excretory system, they use their mouths for the expulsion of waste. Remind you of anyone?"
He had the nerve to look hurt, which I found hilarious. "We're reduced to this, are we? Oh, how the mighty have fallen. But I won't allow you to bring me down with you."
His words cut like a knife to my already wounded heart. "Goodbye, Jonathan. And good riddance," I said, sounding braver than I actually felt.
When he left, slamming the door behind him, I stood frozen in the middle of our living room, my briefcase clutched in my hand. I still wore my jacket, and I looked around in a daze, not sure what to do next. I always knew what to do next. I'd spent my life knowing what to do next.
For a week I went through the motions, falling into a black pit of self-pity and despair. I ignored worried phone calls from friends, ate way too much Ben & Jerry's, wallowed in my sorrow, and obsessed over how my copy of the key ended up in Seth's hands.
Fact: I updated the answer key at home the night after the test. Fact: I put it directly into my bag. Query: Who could have taken it?
Not Jonathan. Sabotaging me reflected poorly on him, and Jonathan cared only about protecting Jonathan. But who else could have done it?
Considering the possibilities sent my logical brain into a tizzy. I couldn't figure it out.
Exactly seven days after I became persona non grata, I stumbled into the library to pay a fine on overdue books. Although I knew I shouldn't even be in the library, I snuck into the stacks, grabbed some books, and carried them to my favorite table in the back.
I opened one of the books and immersed myself in learning an exciting new theory about biosensors. I needed this. Sitting alone in my tiny apartment only made everything worse. After a few hours of reading, the words blurred on the page. I put my head down on the pile of books planning to rest my eyes, but when sleep overtook me, I didn't fight it. I was so tired of fighting ... everything.
CHAPTER 2
I READ A BOOK ON HELIUM ONCE. I COULDN'T PUT IT DOWN.
* * *
"Grace O'Leary, you have a call at the front desk."
I lifted my head and gazed up at the stern face of Ms. Felicity Younger, Head Librarian. Straightening my reading glasses, I noticed a large, damp spot on the book I'd been resting on. I'd just drooled all over a new copy of Perspectives on Structure and Mechanism in Organic Chemistry. Not cool.
I tried to cover the drool with my hand, hoping Ms. Younger wouldn't notice, but nothing escaped those hawk-like eyes. She stared at the book, and at me, with disgust.
"We normally don't accept personal calls on the library phone, especially for someone no longer entitled to library privileges, but it sounded like an emergency."
Clearing my throat, I thanked Ms. Younger and followed her to the front desk. She kept her back ramrod straight, as if my very existence offended her. She wasn't the only person on campus treating me this way, but her reaction stung. She'd always liked me, or so I thought. I couldn't be sure about my relationships with anyone at this point; friends, acquaintances, boyfriends, librarians. Even the barista at the coffee shop had turned on me. She no longer surprised me with little smiley faces in the foam on my lattes. I got angry faces now, another cruel blow.
I put the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
"Gracie?" When I heard my mother's voice on the line, my heart stopped.
"Is everything okay? Is it Mary?"
My oldest sister, six months pregnant with her first child, suffered from serious complications and needed total bed rest. Since Mary's husband traveled a great deal for work, Mom went to stay with her in upstate New York until the baby came.
"Mary's fine. I'm calling about Aunt Lucy. She fell, and she's in the hospital."
"Oh, no."
Lucy Trabuski, my grandmother's flamboyant youngest sister, called herself Madame Lucinda. She owned the Hocus Pocus Magic Shop in the South Side area of Pittsburgh. I adored every crazy, gaudy bit of her.
"I'm so worried," she said. "But I can't leave your sister right now."
I pictured my mother with her faded red hair in a halo of curls around her head and soft brown eyes, the same color as Mary's. Mary got our mother's petite stature, too. I towered over both of them.
As the middle child in a family with five redheaded girls, I'd always been the anomaly. My older two sisters, Mary and Blythe, resembled my mother. The younger two, Aishling and Ava, were twins who took after our Nan. I was the only one with green eyes, the only one taller than our police officer dad, and the only one who never got into any trouble. Ever. Until recently. Not that my mother knew anything about my current situation. I hadn't quite worked up the courage to tell her yet.
"I'll go," I said. "I have some free time right now."
She paused as she processed what I said. I never had free time, and normally, she'd ask me a million questions, but today I got off easy due to her preoccupation with poor Mary.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "I know how busy you are."
I held the phone closer, turning my back on Ms. Younger's judgmental stare. "I can work on my thesis as easily from Pittsburgh as I can from here. It's no trouble at all."
She let out a sigh of relief. "What wonderful news. I know I tell you this all the time, but I'm proud of you, Grace. You work so hard, and now all of your dreams are about to come true."
I closed my eyes, the kindness in her words almost my undoing. "Thanks, Mom."
"Your father and I will pay your gas money." I protested, but she shushed me. "We insist. You're doing us a huge favor. How's Jonathan, by the way?"
"He's fine," I said, even though I hadn't spoken with Jonathan since the day he moved out.
Hanging up the phone, I thanked Ms. Younger, who responded with a grunt. I left the library, my heart a tiny bit lighter. Although concerned about poor Aunt Lucy, her injury gave me a chance to briefly escape this whole horrible situation.
Back at my apartment, I took a much-needed shower, slipped into my coziest PJs, and packed my things. As I shoved clothing into my dilapidated old suitcase, I called my best friend, Laura Fienberg. She answered on the first ring.
"It's about time. I was so worried about you."
I met Laura freshman year of college, and we'd been roommates until I moved in with Jonathan a few months ago. She worked as a nurse at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, just around the corner from Penn.
"Sorry. I wasn't ready to talk about it yet," I said.
"Are you ready now?" she asked, and twenty minutes later, Laura stood at the door of my apartment with a bottle of wine in one hand and Chinese takeout in the other.
We talked and drank, and I ate the first real meal I'd consumed in a week. Afterward, feeling much better, I told Laura all about Dr. Lewis and Jonathan. I also filled her in on Aunt Lucy. She offered to check on the apartment for me and water my plants since I couldn't determine how long I'd have to stay in Pittsburgh.
"You do know Jonathan's being a total dick, right?" she asked, her normally sweet face set in an angry scowl.
I let out a wry laugh. "I called him a scyphozoan."
"A jellyfish?" She snorted. "More like a loser. And always so jealous of you."
I froze, my chopsticks halfway to my mouth. "Jealous?"
Laura rolled her eyes. She sat Indian style next to me on the couch, her short, blond hair framing her delicate face. "Do you remember the chemistry class we all took together freshman year?"
"Of course, I do. That's where we met."
Laura took a long sip of wine. "I realized something in that class. We all did."
"What?" I'd gone through an emotionally exhausting week, and my head felt fuzzy from the wine so I couldn't figure out what she meant.
Laura leaned close to me. "You're special, Gracie. The way you're able to understand chemistry, the way things work for you in class, it's like you're in charge, like you control the outcome. It's ... magic."
I snorted. "It's called 'studying,' and I've done very little else for the last seven and a half years. I see nothing magical about it."
She shook her head, her blue eyes serious. "No. You have a gift. It goes beyond simply studying."
I struggled to find a way to respond to her absolute support and sincerity. "Thank you, Laura. That means a lot."
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The Hocus Pocus Magic Shop"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Abigail Drake.
Excerpted by permission of Abigail Drake.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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