Free More Than Water by Renee Ericson

major?”
    “Yes.” He laughs. “I have a pretty good feeling that you’ll do better than you think.”
    “Fine.” I huff, exaggerating my annoyance. In reality, this game sounds hilarious, and I really want to see it in action. “I was looking to get drunk tonight anyhow. Bring it.”
    “You heard her, James,” Foster says, focusing on his friend. “Give us an element. Do your worst.”
    James closes his lids, deep in thought for a few seconds. He then blurts out, “Thorium.”
    Like rapid fire, the men begin spouting off facts regarding the given element.
    “Atomic number ninety,” Peter states.
    “Unstable isotopes,” says Graham.
    “Once used in gas mantels,” James adds.
    When the men all look to Foster, he says, “Discovered in 1828.”
    Then, they all turn their gaze to me.
    “You’re up, EJ,” Foster encourages. “What do you say?”
    I snort. “I should probably just forfeit and take a drink.”
    “That’s no fun. C’mon. Give it your best shot.”
    This is ridiculous. “Fine. What the fuck am I talking about again?”
    “Thorium,” Graham reiterates.
    “Thorium.” I grab my glass, ready to drink. “You know, the most godly of them all, being named after Thor, god of thunder. Bring on the giant hammer man with rippling muscles.”
    James laughs. “I’m calling bullshit on this one.”
    I lift my glass to my lips.
    “Wait,” Peter says. “The rules state that we have to verify if she’s wrong first.”
    “Do we really need to?” I ask, lowering my drink. “Everyone here knows that it’s wrong.”
    “Actually,” Foster says, chuckling at my side, staring at his phone. “She’s right. James, take the shot.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he protests.
    “Not at all.” Foster flips his phone around for everyone to witness that I am indeed correct.
    James picks up the shot and downs the vodka in one gulp. “Looks like I get to pick again.” He balances the empty glass upside down on another one at the center of the table. “Einsteinium.” He turns to me. “Named after Albert Einstein.”
    “Well, I’m up shit creek now with zero paddles, life vests, or lifeguards to speak of,” I mutter.
    Graham says, “Discovered in the debris of the first hydrogen bomb explosion.”
    “Atomic number ninety-nine,” Foster offers.
    “Symbol is E-S,” Peter adds.
    It’s my turn, so I say, “The geekiest and smartest element of them all, complete with a pocket protector.”
    Foster slides my beer closer to me. “That’s a really good guess, but you should prepare to drink.”
    “You think?” I ask, dripping with sarcasm.
    Graham lifts his head from his phone. “Surprisingly, the einsteinium element does not have a pocket protector. Time to drink, EJ.”
    “Nobody saw that coming,” I snark. I lift my glass, drinking close to half the pint. “I guess this means I get to choose next?”
    “That’s right,” Peter confirms.
    “Well then, you are all completely out of luck because I’m still convinced that an actinide is a pimple potion.”
    Everyone laughs at me, beside me—and soon, I realize, with me.
    “I can pick one for you,” Foster offers. “Since your chemistry knowledge is a little remedial.”
    “You’re being a little generous by even saying it’s remedial. So, yeah, go for it. Your pick.”
    “Very well. Let’s go with californium.”
    “I’m guessing that being named after California won’t be sufficient?” I mumble.
    “Is that your input?” asks James.
    “No. I’m still formulating my Nobel Prize winning answer.” I dramatically rub my temples, like massaging my brain will relax it into geeky submission. “Why don’t you brainiacs free your cerebellums of analytic thoughts first?”
    Graham guffaws. “Sure, EJ. I’ll go first. Slowly tarnishes in air at room temperature.”
    “Can disrupt the formation of red blood cells,” James offers.
    “Heaviest naturally occurring element on earth,” Peter follows.
    “Atomic number