" I guess we're having technical problems, so I'll give it to you orally," says Mr. Onsen, the Chemistry teacher, in response to the overhead not powering up correctly.

"That's what she said," is whispered out by the jock currently occupying the opposite end of the table, and Mike Ross rolls his eyes. He has a problem with the way that high school is portrayed on the big screen. Not in any of the high school dramas or romantic comedies his grandmother liked to sit through did it mention or show how many dumb comments a student is subjected to.

No, instead the big screen makes it out like nerds like himself are awesome, but they need someone popular to make everyone else see how cool they really are, or something like that. Lame.

Mike walks over to the teachers desk, grabs the baby shampoo off the corner of it, and begins to generously smear it on the lens of his goggles. It gets really hot and humid with thirty students all sharing one tiny lab room, each student doing some experiment or another. The Johnson & Johnson helps keep Mike's glasses from fogging up.

Maybe when he returns from this little venture, the lab partners in front of him will have stopped joking in order to pay attention to what exactly they were supposed to be doing today. Yeah, right. The team that Mike and his partner, Donna, are sharing a table with includes Harvey Specter, "I-can-play-any-sport-that-uses-a-ball-because-I-own-two-gigantic-ones", and Trevor Mance, stoner extraordinaire. Trevor's cool, in a douchey sort of way, but something about Harvey rubs Mike the wrong way.

Maybe it's because Harvey's an asshole with family so loaded with money he forgets that not everyone can afford to shop name brand.

Maybe it's because sometimes Mike finds himself wanting to talk to him. Mike doesn't want to be like every other idiot who's pulled in by the jerk's good looks and physical ability. He's not a genius for nothing afterall.

Mr. Onsen lectures the class on mass conversion and explains how they are using dry ice in an experiment today. In each team of two, some one must select a beaker, weigh the beaker's mass, select a small pellet of dry ice, and drop the ice into the beaker. Then, students must weigh the beaker and dry ice so that they can subtract the two weights to find how much the dry ice weighs. Using centrifugal force, a partner must make the dry ice melt and then weigh the gas that is left behind in the beaker.

It is simple and easy, which is wonderful because Mike's partner has never been good at helping. Donna broke three beakers, two test tubes, and a thermometer during the first week of school. Since then, Mike does the experiments and Donna writes the reports. It's a system they both benefit from, but still watching her file her nails while he's setting up the experiment irks Mike.

"Here, I'll hold this and you put that in," Trevor says, the beaker in his hand. Harvey chuckles and Mike is sort of captivated with his smile, until the other boy speaks. "That's what she said," Harvey then drops the pellet in the glassware.

Mike feels his eyebrow twitch in aggravation, and Donna stifles a giggle.

Mike twirls his beaker carefully, letting the dry ice skate around the bottom. As most of the students follow suit, a faint whistling sound fills the room.

Mike finishes first, which isn't unusual, and records all his findings before handing over the information for Donna to make a report out of.

"This is taking longer than I thought it would," Mike hears Harvey grumble out. This time the irritating phrase comes from Trevor's mouth. Mike sighs out while putting up all his equipment. At least it was lunch time. He'd get to see Rachel soon.

Trevor is looking down the beaker's top dubiously. Mike is finally ready to go with all his supplies secured safely in his backpack. He waves at Donna and stands from his place at the table.

"Maybe if you blow on it, it'll go faster," Trevor mutters. Mike waits for it.

Waits for it.

Then finally breaks down.

"That's what he said," Mike says and feels kind of embarrassed. Like maybe he wants to be like the dry ice in the beakers and subliminate into thin air. But then he shakes off his awkwardness, because he's Mike Ross, and he's brilliant.

He smiles and walks off, but not before he notices Harvey's smirk curve into a smile and Trevor's shocked face.

Mike's awesome whether people realize it or not. And he's kind of cool with it like that.