Jealousy is a Strong Word (Chapter 1)

On an ordinary of school, the girls were in their assigned classes around ten in the morning. Andrea was in AP chemistry working on a project. That would be nothing to her, except she had to once again work with Randall on the project. Randall was one of her worst enemies. He was super smart but very arrogant about it and had an anger problem. Him and Andrea were always arguing, especially when nothing went wrong. They just hated each other. Yet they were forced to work together on an assignment that was easy to Randall but hard to Andrea.
"Don't pour it yet," Randall ordered as he eyed Andrea, trying to tip a cup of an unknown, blue liquid into a heated beaker of a clear, syrupy liquid.
The partners stared at the beaker for a few seconds. After a while, Andrea tried to tip the cup again.
"Don't pour it yet," Randall repeated.
Andrea held the cup up so no liquid would fall. She and Randall stared at the beaker for a moment again. Once more, Andrea attempted to tip the cup.
"Don't pour it yet!"
Andrea sat the cup on the black counter. "Then when am I supposed to pour it?"
"Are you blind? The instructions say to pour it when the substance turns slightly yellow."
"Well, it looks yellow to me."
"Well, it's not. You got to wait for it to turn a canary color. The instructions say it might take ten minutes."
"How long has it been?"
"Nine minutes."
Andrea scoffed. "I'm pouring this in." She picked up the cup and attempted to tip it over the beaker.
Yet Randall put his hand in front of the cup and pushed it safely down. "Not yet. Wait another minute. And if the substance doesn't turn yellow, wait a few more minutes."
"You didn't have to touch me."
"I didn't touch you."
"Yes, you did. You touched me."
"I didn't touch you, Andrea. Stop being such a drama queen."
"I'm a drama queen? You're the one who's all like, 'Don't pour it yet!'"
"That's because you're not supposed to pour it yet."
"Well, you don't have to yell at me."
"I wouldn't have to yell at you if you weren't so hardheaded."
"Ha! Is that supposed to be an insult? Because for the record, Rand-all, heads are supposed to be hard."
"Shocker."
Andrea paused for a bit. "Was that sarcasm?"
Randall didn't respond; he just looked away.
"Excuse me. I said are you being sarcastic?"
"Yes, I'm being sarcastic," Randall said to her face. "What are you, the sarcastic police?"
Andrea began to fake-laugh. "What a jokester."
"What a drama queen."
"I'm not dramatic."
"Then stop being dramatic!"
"You know what? I think we've been arguing for a good minute. I got to pour the cup in." Andrea picked up the cup of blue liquid and poured it all into the beaker.
"No!" Randall yelled as she poured it in. He swiped the empty cup from Andrea's hand and sat it on the counter. "You're not supposed to pour it all in. You were supposed to pour half."
"Sorry, I didn't know."
"That's because you didn't read the instructions, blindy."
"Hey, just because I didn't read the instructions doesn't mean I'm blind."
"You're right, you're not blind. You're hardheaded!"
"Everyone is, redheaded."
"Is that supposed to be an insult?"
"Sorta."
The partners' attention quickly turned to the beaker, which was overflowing, coming out in big bubbles. Andrea almost freaked out while Randall picked up a small silver disk from the counter and immediately placed it on top of the beaker, ceasing the spillage.
"You fool!" shouted Randall. "You're supposed to put the lid on it after you pour the chemical in."
"Uh, I'm sorry," started Andrea, "but I was gonna put the lid on it if you weren't so busy yelling at me."
"No, you weren't. You forgot just like you forgot to only pour half of the cup into the beaker."
"No, I didn't. Besides, the lid was all the way over there. You should've put the lid on it."
"I did put the lid on it."
"Well, you didn't do it fast enough!"
"And look at this." Randall motioned to the blue liquid splattered all over the countertop. "You made a mess. You're not hardheaded after all; you're just a sloppy, dirty mess."
"You're one to talk, usted pequeño monstruo."
"English, please."
"Oh! English? English? I'm gonna beat you so hard, you won't even know how to speak English anymore."
"That's real ladylike. Your mother taught you that?"
"My mother? Oh, my mother?" Andrea began to take her gold, sun-shaped studs out of her ears. "You want to talk about my mother? Then let's go. Let's bring it on." She settled into a fighting stance.
"You're so pathetic. The only way you know how to settle something is to fight. You're an embarrassment to society." He swiped out Andrea's earrings from her hands as she slowly started to stand regularly. "So are your weird earrings."
"Give me back my earrings! And I told you to stop touching me." She smacked Randall's hands so he could drop the earrings he was holding tightly. But she was so strong that when she smacked Randall's hands, he slid around and fell into the table. When he regained balance, he turned around, holding his wrist. "What's wrong?" she asked in an irritated way.
"My hand is burning!" Randall answered, shaking his hand.
Andrea looked closer and saw a red rash slowly forming on the palm of his hand.  "Oh, my God! Why does it look like that?"
"Because you pushed me and my hand touched the puddle on the table, baby brain!"
"Well, you should've been more careful."
"Gah! I wouldn't have touched the puddle if it weren't for your gorilla hands."
"Who you callin' a gorilla?"
At that moment, the middle-aged teacher, who looked more of a mountain climber, came by with an urgent look on his face. "What's going on?" he asked through his long, brown beard. "You guys have been shouting and whatnot. What seems to be the problem?"
"Her!" Randall answered, looking at Andrea then at his hand. "And this!"
"Oh, my God." The teacher put his hand over Randall's hand, which was holding his wrist. "You need to go get that rinsed."
"Hey, do you think my earrings came in contact with the puddle?" asked Andrea, truly curious. "Because I just bought those."