Free More Than Water by Renee Ericson Page A

ninety-eight,” Foster finishes.
    They all turn their expectant faces toward me.
    “And the smart table award goes to all of you,” I say playfully, spreading my arms wide like a game show hostess. “Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner.” I grab my beer, prepared to drink.
    “Aren’t you even going to take a guess?” Foster inquires.
    “Oh, sure.” I set my drink back down. “Why the hell not? Californium. The tannest and most valley girl element at the party just below the Sunset Strip.” I raise my glass. “Cheers, gentlemen.” Then, I take another swig of my beer.
    “I don’t think we need to verify that one,” Peter says, shaking his head. “Everyone knows that elements don’t have melanin, and therefore, can’t tan.”
    “Of course they don’t,” I tease. “Everyone knows that.”
    “Shut up, Peter.” Foster laughs, flicking a cardboard coaster at him. “No need to kick her while she’s down.”
    “It’s okay.” I giggle with them. “It’s pretty obvious that I know jack dick when it comes to the acne cream elements. Talk about taking advantage of a gal and her tiny brain.”
    Drinking games have always been a forte of mine, and admittedly, so far, this is one that I’m failing at miserably. Sitting back, I search through my head for a way to get a leg up on these guys. They all have more knowledge than fourteen-year-old boys have hormones, but there has to be something. I hate losing.
    Then, I recall one little trick I might have up my sleeve.
    “Let’s change the subject,” I announce, leaning my elbows on the table and capturing everyone’s attention. “Could I interest you all in a bet?”
    “This should be good,” says Peter, intrigued. “What is it?”
    “I bet I know a little something about physics that you all don’t.”
    “Oh, yeah?” Foster says, sitting up in his chair. “Is that right?”
    “It sure is.” I glance at my beer, still more than a quarter of the way full, Chandra’s untouched beer, and Foster’s two shots, ready for consumption. “Are you game?” I ask my coworker.
    “What do you have in mind?”
    “There’s a law I learned in physics a long time ago that I’d like to demonstrate, if that’s okay with you.”
    “I’m all ears.”
    I point to my beer. “I bet that I can drink the rest of my beer here and the full one next to it”—I point to Chandra’s intended beverage—“faster than you can drink your two shots.”
    He squints, looks to the sky, assesses the beverages on the table, and then peers at me once again. “This is a little too simple. You aren’t serious, are you?”
    “I sure am. There are a few rules though—to be fair, of course.”
    “Like what?”
    “Well, since the volume of my drinks are more than yours, it would only be fair that you allow me to finish my first beer before you start on your shots. And you can’t touch your first shot glass until my glass is back on the table. That’s it.”
    He puckers his mouth. “Okay…that sounds fair.”
    “Also, we can’t touch each other’s glasses—at all. That’s an automatic forfeit. I’m not allowed to touch your glass, and you can’t touch mine.”
    “Anything else?”
    “You can only hold one glass at a time. So, neither of us can pick up our second drink until the first one is finished and back on the table.”
    “You make this too easy.” He unbuttons the cuffs on his sleeves and begins to roll them up his forearms. “I’m game. What’s the wager?”
    “If I win—”
    “EJ!” Chandra’s voice echoes, approaching the table. “There you are. I thought you might have left.”
    “Nah, I just ran into a coworker.” I point to my left. “This is Foster. We work together at the engineering library. And these are his friends—Graham, Peter, and James. Guys, this is Chandra, my roommate.”
    In symphony, out of tune and not even close to harmonic, they all share a “hi,” and “hello.”
    “So, what’s going on?” Chandra asks, standing