Page 40 of The Chemistry Test

Cam

I get to Penny’s pretty early, so I turn my playlist off when I arrive, ready to check on Callie before going in.

These days, the only thing stopping her from being adoptable is that she can’t really be left on her own.

Most days she’s a perfectly happy little cat, but she still can and does go from being fine to critical in under an hour.

She had another scary episode with Mum when I was dropping Tabby off, which pretty much sealed her fate, winning her even more time in foster care with me.

Apart from tonight that is, with Ryan and George stepping up as chief kitten supervisors.

They pick up after the second ring, and as I expected, she’s been perfectly happy and healthy this evening, chilling in her favourite cardboard box.

As Ryan waves her paw to me through the screen, I almost feel confident about leaving her at home for the first time, while Penny and I stay up to get our poster done.

Between the baby monitor and the fact she’s already on antibiotics to treat her last episode, now’s the best time to try leaving her for a while.

I look at the time again and get out of the car, walking briskly against the autumn breeze.

An all-nighter like this would be long and intense for anyone, despite someone with so much health stuff going on, so as soon as Penny lets me in, I start laying out the papers and opening our textbooks.

‘CJ?’ she says, as I open Spotify to find our playlist.

I turn my head but continue typing.

‘I’ll tell you later, actually,’ she says, coming over to see what songs I’ve chosen. ‘ Penny and CJ’s Big Night In ,’ she laughs, reading the title. ‘Looking forward to it!’ she says, without an ounce of sarcasm.

I smile at her. ‘Of course you are.’

She still looks like she has something to say, but before she can, she catches sight of the books and her brows furrow so hard they look like they’re about to erupt. She switches a few around and then does it again, narrowing her eyes at them.

‘Sorry,’ she says, pulling her hands back as I sit down next to her, ready to get started. She picks a book and hands me another, already open on the right page, and we get to work.

After a few minutes, though, I can tell she’s distracted by something. She’s written more than me, but nowhere near as much as she usually does. I think the music’s putting her off.

‘No, it’s great!’ she says when I ask. ‘This is just so much more fun than what I usually listen to.’

‘Which is?’

‘“Now That’s What I Call Chilled”,’ she says, cringing at the name.

I know the one. It’s full of soft pop songs from people like George Ezra and Jason Mraz. It wouldn’t be my top choice, but I don’t mind it, actually. I suggest putting that on instead, but she shakes her head. ‘We can’t miss our big night in.’

Ten minutes later, though, she’s written less than me. She picks up my laptop and glides her fingers over the touchpad to wake up the screen. ‘You’re the only person I know who has the premium version of this,’ she says, swiping back to the Spotify tab.

‘It’s so good,’ I say. ‘I wish I got it sooner. I buy nearly everything I want now.’

Her eyes shoot up at me and she drops her highlighter on the floor. ‘That’s nice,’ she says, looking at me in ... disgust, I think? I mean, it’s not quite as extreme as that, but that’s the closest thing I can liken it to.

It takes me a minute to realise what I said.

‘Wait, that’s not what I meant. I just meant that if something’s going to make my life better, and I’m able to do it, I do it.

’ I realise now I’ve opened a whole can of worms, but I can’t stand her looking at me like this.

‘I didn’t just mean it about buying stuff.

When Gran died, it made me realise how short life is and how little I paid attention to each individual day.

’ I point to my trainers, over by the door.

‘But not anymore. They’re my favourite trainers, so I wear them every day,’ I say.

They’re white Air Force 1s and I have them in four colourways.

‘And every outfit I wear is my favourite outfit.’

She tilts her head, still sceptical about what I said. ‘I can see where you’re coming from, but I still feel like that’s a lot easier to do when you have the money for it.’

I nod. ‘It definitely helps, and I’m definitely privileged to be able to do it,’ I say, putting the lid on her highlighter before it seeps into the carpet even more.

‘But I also listen to my favourite songs on repeat, without worrying about getting bored of them. And I eat my favourite breakfast every morning.’ I try to rub the ink out of the carpet with my hand.

‘There’s so much pressure to focus on the bigger picture and reach all these huge goals, it’s easy to lose sight of the finer details and all our small dreams. The ones that don’t even need chasing because we can just reach out and grab them.

So, a few months ago, I started doing exactly that. ’

‘You’re in a position where working on the finishing touches of your life like that can make a meaningful difference, though.

I’d do that too if I had the bigger stuff figured out.

But I don’t. Even if I graduate, I still won’t be able to go into full-time work and then, that’s it.

I’ll be behind again and I’ll have to focus on the big stuff just to keep up. ’

‘Not necessarily,’ I say, contradicting her for the second time this week.

‘ When you graduate, you’ll be the best part-time scientist or practitioner or whatever you want to be, and no one, except maybe you, will care how many hours you work.

It’s kind of like my small dreams theory, where they compound over time.

It doesn’t matter if you can’t dedicate as many hours to stuff as everyone else.

You can just be Penny Lane, guardian of her precious minutes, and the hours can be guardians of themselves. ’

She smiles, catching on to the idea. ‘Is this an analogy you’ve come up with too? Like looking after the pennies and the pounds looking after themselves?’

‘Maybe. Plus, I’m literally planning on getting a remote part-time job in the field too. We could even end up working together, doing the same thing.’ I have no idea where all of this has come from, but she looks like she’s close to tears over it.

‘But you’ll be on set and I’ll be in bed. It’s not the same.’

‘We have pull-out beds in our trailers,’ I say, thinking about how it would actually be the perfect place to take her to.

With all her questions the other day, she’s clearly fascinated about how everything works, and she’d have the comfort of my private pull-out bed if she needed it.

The only problem is I’m still not one hundred per cent certain I’m going back.

So, instead, I just say, ‘I’ll be working in bed some of the time too.

You could even work or chill with me sometime, if you wanted to.

’ Nice and non-committal. Sticking to the actual point of the conversation. Mostly.

‘CJ.’ She’s shaking her head.

‘I get what you’re saying, Penny,’ I say, more gently this time.

‘It’s not the same. You’re right about that.

But so what? There are over seven billion ways to live a good life.

You’re doing just fine, and you deserve to relax and embrace all the small moments as much as everyone else.

You don’t have to constantly be worrying and chasing anything bigger. ’

‘There are over eight billion people on Earth now,’ she says, pedantic as ever and slyly dodging my point.

‘Yeah, but some of them are serial killers and some don’t replace the toilet paper. So, I was right, seven billion ways to live a good life.’

‘A great one would be better,’ she mutters, so quietly I don’t think I was supposed to hear it.

I guide her face upwards with my finger gently. ‘I think it depends who’s asking, and who’s answering. I’d rather be remembered as CJ the good than CJ the great.’

Callie’s timer suddenly goes off again, telling me to tidy up the kitten room so she doesn’t accidentally pin herself to anything overnight. It makes us both jump and our eyes snap down towards the sound instinctively. Penny reads the reminder. ‘I think a lot of people will remember you that way.’