Free Formerly Shark Girl by Kelly Bingham Page B

him.
    “That is fantastic,” he says. “I love it.”
    He puts his elbow on the table
    and rests his chin in his hand.
    “So, if you’re working out five times a week,
    I’m guessing you’ve got some serious strength.
    I bet you’re like the Hulk or something.”
    I like the easy way Max talks with me.
    He is not timid or nervous
    about saying the wrong thing,
    about offending or treating me special.
    He’s just having fun.
    “I am so strong, you would not believe it,”
    I tell him, somber-faced.
    “In fact, my arm has been registered as a lethal weapon
    with the state of California.”
    “Really?” Max takes his chin out of his hand
    and puts his palm toward me.
    “Let’s arm wrestle.”

I look at him quickly.
Seriously?
    “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
    I grab his hand, and, oh, it’s warm,
    and something like an electric current
    shoots through my entire body.
    Sparks ignite
    every inch of my being.
    “Ready?” Max says. “Go.”
    I push hard,
    and Max pushes back, steadily.
    I push harder; Max barely moves.
    “Any time now,” he says, grinning.
    In our efforts, our heads bow,
    moving closer together,
    closer
    and closer.
    I jerk my head up. “Spider!”
    Max leaps to his feet,
    smacks at his shoulder, chest, and arms.
    “
Where?
Did I get it? Where?”
    He yanks the books up, looking underneath.
    He’s so funny, all spooked, frantically searching.
    I can’t help it. I laugh, long and hard.
    He narrows his eyes at me.
    “Ahhhh . . . the old spider trick.”
    “I’m sorry,” I manage.
    “Don’t be. All’s fair in arm wrestling.”
    Max opens the science book, becoming studious.
    “You do know the penalty for cheating, though.”
    I shake my head as the giggles die.
    “Extra homework.”
    “I don’t even understand the homework I
have.
”
    Good grief. I’m
whining.
    “That’s why I’m here, remember?”
    Max takes a pair of glasses out of his shirt pocket
    and slides them on,
    and though I wouldn’t have thought it possible,
    he is now more handsome than before.
    “By the time the night is over,
    you will understand this assignment,
    and
the extra one I’ll give you.”
    Max turns the page.
    “Let’s get started,” he says.
    And so
    we do.

“Ferromagnetic substances,” I tell him.
    “I
beg
you to explain this to me.”
    “Ah, yes,” Max says with a heavy sigh.
    “I remember all this. Kind of.”
    He glances at me sideways.
    “I’m kidding.” He chuckles.
    “Wow. You should have seen your face.”
    Max cracks his knuckles
    and picks up a pen and a pencil.
    He holds them so their tips are touching.
    “Let’s say these two objects
    are magnetically attracted to each other,”
    he says. “If the pencil is a ferromagnetic substance,
    it will remain magnetic even after you take away the pen.”
    He does so, leaving the thin pencil in midair by itself.
    “The pencil does not depend on the pen
    to be magnetic.” He touches the pencil to my shoulder.
    “It could just as easily stick to you.
    Or the refrigerator. Or the table. See?”
    I nod, slowly understanding.
    Max returns the pen to the pencil,
    their points touching like a kiss.
    “If we apply the pen to the pencil,
    we increase the magnetization.
    When we increase it
    to the highest value it can go
    without raising it above the Curie temperature,
    it is saturation magnetization.
    It is as magnetic as it can get.”
    He looks at me.
    “Understand?”
    I nod.
    He says, “And the Curie temperature is . . . ?”
    That one I remember.
    “It depends on the substance.”
    He beams. “Good. Let’s say . . . iron?”
    I quickly check my notes.
    “770 degrees Celsius.”
    “Good. Cobalt?”
    “1130.”
    “Good. So . . .
    is the Curie point a set number?”
    I shake my head. “No?”
    “
No
is not a question, Jane.
    Confidence. You probably know this
    better than you think.”
    I try again.
“No.”
    “Excellent.” Max sits back.
    “Now. What’s another way of explaining
    the Curie