Between Us (Chapter 1)
Chapter 1: The Mermaid
A/N: I haven't written a fanfiction since middle school, and I definitely didn't see myself writing one during my second year as a grad student. Watching Project Hail Mary as a grad student in STEM (a woman in STEM!!!) was such a fun experience. Things like poorly constructed pilot experiments, failed analyses, defending your research, and imposter syndrome are just some of the many things I related to throughout the movie. Also, science can be pretty isolating, depending on your field of study. I know I was pretty lonely for a large chunk of college and I preferred to work alone most of the time, just to make things go quicker. Ryland not having many close friends makes sense. It also makes sense that his deepest bond is with someone who isn't human, let alone on Earth. Scientists are weird, but in a wacky, wonderful, and unexpected way. What we shouldn't forget is that science is for everyone. Anyone can be a scientist.
-Belle
Grover Cleveland Middle wasn’t where I thought my master’s would take me. Shouldn’t a graduate student in ecology with a focus in marine biology be out swifting through the rocky intertidal or staring at harbor seals all day? Apparently not, according to my PI. As I stand at the front gate of the middle school, I recall why my PI sent me here in the first place.
~~~
“Excuse me?” I ask. Weekly meetings with Dr. Mondia were always centered around numbers, coding, and experimental methods, so his suggestion was completely out of the ordinary.
“It’s not a bad idea, Miss (L/N). Your work is exceptional, but your project required you to be in the lab every single day for five months, with no more than three consecutive days off at a time.” He stated.
I blink in response, interested in what the problem could be. Did I do my study wrong? Was I missing something? I flip through the file cabinets of my brain to see what could be missing. I've cited all my literature references, I reached out to my committee members about my thesis defense date, I've done all the statistical and visual analyses... what could it be??
“Out of the duration of your experiment, you only missed eight days. You were in the lab for six hours every day for five months, a total of nearly one hundred and fifty days, and a total amount of hours that I’m afraid to crunch the numbers for.”
“Isn’t that a good thing? If that says anything about me, I think it proves that I take my work very seriously.” I ask, shifting in my seat across from his desk, rapidly clicking my pen. Now, I remember why I went through the extra trouble of finding “silent" pens.
“Yes, but did you engage with anyone within or outside the scientific community for your work?”
“I went to the naturalist conference in San Diego in the fall, and I've presented posters of my work at numerous biology department showcases. Do those count?”
"Yes, but... have you presented your work to anyone who has little to no scientific background or experience with the hermit crabs that you worked with?"
"Most of the people I've chatted with were colleagues or people in different fields of science. If you're wondering if I've presented my work to people who are completely in the dark about biology, I'd say I haven't talked to anyone." I say this with a sigh, finally catching on to what he's trying to tell me.
“Exactly, (Y/N). As a scientist, collaboration and communication are key. You did your project on your own with no undergrads to help you, which is impressive, but being a scientist also comes with knowing your audience and presenting your work in a way that anyone can understand.” He says, folding his hands and placing them on his desk.
I take a moment to think before asking my next question. Why on Earth would teaching at a middle school about my graduate study be so important?
“Why middle school? Why not high school or undergrads?” I ask, finally putting down my pen to relax my sore thumb.
“Firstly, most high schools and colleges are more focused on commencement or end-of-the-year events, like prom and graduations. Secondly, we have a teacher at Grover Cleveland Middle School who has been a co-author on a few scientific articles published through our university, and he pitched the idea to me over a cup of coffee last week.” He says, slightly chuckling to himself.
“Do you know him personally?” I ask, sensing the shift in his voice to a friendlier tone.
“We were colleagues during our undergraduate studies. As he was starting his Ph.D, he reached out to ask me about a paper I had published, and wanted to pick my brain about the evolutionary timeline of certain species of crabs. I later attended his oral presentation for his dissertation. It didn’t end well.”
“I'd really hate to ask why.” I say, cringing at the endless possibilities that could go wrong with a presentation like that. Imagine a single presentation defining the entirety of over four years of work, with limited time to explain your question, hypothesis, supporting evidence, experimental design, the experiment itself, data collection, data analysis, implications, and conclusions along with future directions. Ya, definately no pressure there, bud.
“Let’s just say that he had some opinions that didn’t go well with some core beliefs within the scientific community.” He said, standing up to open a window next to his desk.
“Why me, though?” I ask.
“I owe him a solid. Back in undergrad, he helped me ask out a girl in my physics class. Penny never fails to remind me that our wedding happened because of him, and that she's the best thing that's ever happened to me." He shrugs his shoulders at the cold air being introduced to his office.
“So, I’m just part of a transaction? What does he want me to do with a room full of rowdy and messy preteens? I don’t exactly work well with kids.”
“After his dissertation, a lot of scientists looked down on him and he lost a majority of his connections. He became the poster boy of what not to do during a dissertation. I know a Berkeley professor who would pull up a recording of his presentation to show her students what a dissertation shouldn't look like.” He chuckles to himself before sitting back down at his desk.
“The point is, he wants to wrap up the remainder of the school year with a topic that his students voted for, and he wants someone who can bring in all kinds of little creatures for the kids to look at. He also wants to show the class what biology looks like at a college level. Since I’m one of the only people who cared to acknowledge his existence after his garbage fire of a dissertation, he reached out to me.”
“Okay, so what’s in it for me?” I ask, slightly annoyed with the idea of having to interact with impatient kids and a disgraced former-scientist.
“You like working alone, right? Think of this as exposure therapy.”
~~~
Dr. Mondia can be so wrong sometimes, but absolutely right at the same time. I walk through the gates of the school and make my way to the first building I see with a sign that says “Main Office”. I knock on the door before entering and look around the room. A lady at the front desk is typing away at her computer, but turns her head to me as I continue forward.
“Hi there, are you here to pick up your kid from after-school care? I'll need a last name and their grade.” She smiles and points to a clipboard with steps for after-school care pick up; instructions for immediate family and extended family or friends.
“Actually, I’m here to see Mr. Grace. The science teacher? I’m a master’s student in Dr. Mondia’s lab at the San Francisco University of Sciences. He should have sent an email… or a voicemail… or a written letter.” I respond, trying to think of the ways my PI would be contacting the school. He’s so old.
“Oh, you’re the mermaid! Mr. Grace is in the teacher’s lounge in the back, I can let him know that you’re here and I can send you in.”
Before I could respond, she was already up from her seat and making her way to a room farther into the small building. Mermaid? Why am I a mermaid? I hope Mr. Grace doesn’t expect me to dress up like one while I teach his students. If that’s the case, he probably should have hired one of those princesses for children’s birthday parties, or I could refer him to my drag queen friends who would be more than happy to dress up in pretty mermaid tails at the beach. Anything I could cram together to dress up as a mermaid would be an insult to the craft.
The lady peeps her head out the door frame and gives me a smile.
“He spilled some coffee. I hope you don’t mind that he’s cleaning up while you guys chat.” She props open the door of the teacher’s lounge for me and sits back down at her desk. I thank her and make my way down the short hallway, if you would even call it that. I reach the door frame and knock on the propped door to imply my presence. Mr. Grace is tearing off paper towels from the roll and placing them on the puddles of spilled black coffee. At the same time he’s trying to catch any falling drops of coffee with his mug.
“I hope you won’t be drinking that.” I say, slightly cringing at the idea of drinking the spilled coffee. This balancing act that he has going on will not end well if he keeps it up. He looks up and meets my gaze with an embarrassed and goofy smile.
“I mean, they should pay me more so I could afford to get my own coffee. Isn’t that right, Marjorie?” He calls to the lady at the front desk.
“Don’t drag me into the salary debate again.” she says from the front desk.
“She agrees. I’m pretty great.” He says sarcastically, while trying to move the soaked paper towels to the side of the table to place his mug down. Looking at the small bin next to me with his hands on his hips, he bites down on his bottom lip and squints his eyes.
“Need help?” I ask, clutching the strap of my bookbag.
“No, no, no, I’m just trying to figure out if these wads of coffee-soaked paper towels would make a good basketball for that garbage bin hoop.” He says, mimicking the wind up of a free throw.
“I’d suggest a lay up.” I say jokingly, picking up the trash bin and moving it near the table.
“Thanks for being a good sport.” he says, sliding the soaked paper towels into the trash bin. The smell of coffee lingers on the table as I watch him clean up the mess. The last time I had black coffee was when I pulled an all-nighter to finish coding. Turns out, I forgot a parenthesis in the middle chunk of my code, and had been scanning for the mistake for three hours before I actually found what was wrong.
“I’d be an even better sport if you didn’t bestow the nickname of 'the mermaid' on me before I had a chance to talk to you. Just (Y/N) is fine with me, and it's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Grace.” I say, letting him clean up the remainder of his mess.
“You’re a marine biologist. Don’t you swim with fish and talk with whales? Don’t you bother sea stars and seaweed, and all that other crap?” He asks as he brings the trash bin back to its original spot and makes his way back to the table in a few strides.
“Language, Mr. Grace!” Marjorie says from her desk.
“It’s after hours! Besides, the kids are in the auditorium on the other side of the school. They'll be fine!” He jokes, and gestures for me to sit down across from him before taking his own seat.
Before sitting down, I open my bag to pull out his dissertation. I take a look at the title before dropping it in front of him on the table.
“You wrote that.” A look of sympathy laced with curiosity graces my face, hoping that he'd understand why I brought it here.
“Wow, umm. First of all, it’s very nice to finally meet you, (Y/N). Second of all, you should have brought that in sooner. It would probably have been better than the paper towels at cleaning up spilled coffee. Gotta reduce, reuse, and recycle things without a purpose right?” He says, his face contorting at the sight of it. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.
“Mondia insisted I read it, but I want the truth from the horse’s mouth.” I say as I finally sit down across from him and slide the neatly stapled stack of papers toward him.
"What happened, Mr.- ... Dr. Grace?" His ears seem to perk up at the acknowledgement of his previous role.
“I called a renowned scientist a ‘waste of carbon’.” He says, staring at the paper blankly as his glasses begin to slide down his nose. He catches them in time and pushes them back into place with his index finger.
“Because I believe that life doesn’t need hydrogen and oxygen to exist, at least if we're talking about other planets and galaxies. It's a universally accepted belief that I rejected and it caused the crumbling of my scientific career.” He looks me with a haze in his eyes, clearly not fond of the memory.
“Dr. Grace, you want me to help you teach students about marine life while still believing that life cannot exist without hydrogen and oxygen, which are the foundational elements of water?”
“Yup.” He lets out a heavy sigh as if he had been holding his breath.
I roll my eyes and sigh at his one-word answer. Now, it's my turn to lean back into my chair. I cross my arms and give him a puzzled expression, mirroring his seated position.
“My kids have been begging for a unit or at least a single lesson on marine science. I can ramble on and on about stars, planets, rovers, satellites, and rocket launches, but I think my students deserve to learn from a scientist who’s actually experienced in the field of marine biology.” His gaze shifts to his dissertation again.
I tap my shoes together while thinking of the numerous ways this conversation could go. Best case scenario, this conversation is actually productive and I get to teach middle schoolers about marine life. Worst case scenario, this conversation is actually productive and I get to teach middle schoolers about marine life… with a teacher who’s using me to babysit because he doesn’t believe that life needs water to exist. I finally look up at him and he meets my eyes. I finally relax and reach into my bag, curious as to what the lesson planning would look like if I were to take on the role.
“Alright, so if I were to do this, what areas of marine biology would the kids be focusing on?” I pull out a small notebook and my favorite pen, waiting for him to talk so that I could take notes.
“They’re kids, they’ll be interested in anything.” He says, jokingly to lighten the mood. This earns an unamused look from me and he clears his throat to get rid of the awkward silence.
“Well, the water cycle is the best place to start because that’s the most recent thing I taught them. Then, it would be best to differentiate the ocean from lakes, rivers, and streams. We can briefly touch on freshwater ecosystems, but the main thing would be saltwater ecosystems. Plants first, then invertebrates, fish, birds, and mammals. I’m sure they’d love it if you brought in something like a fossil, some seashells, or even small live critters they can look at.” He seems to be a lot more engaged now. By the way his eyes light up when he talks about his students, anyone could tell that his class was all about making science fun. As I write down his suggestions, a small smile appears on my face. It’s nice to know that he’s the kind of teacher who cares.
“That's quite a bit of planning, Steph Curry.” I say, jokingly. He laughs at this and brings his foot up to rest on the knee of his other leg.
“Will you do it?” He asks with a grin.
“Will I get to bring my own coffee?” I ask with a slight smile, turning to the next page in my notebook.
“Mermaids deserve the best coffee. That’s why Starbucks has one in their logo.” He says, trying to crack another joke.
“Nope, nope, I don’t think that’s entirely correct.” I say, chuckling and continuing to write things down.
As I continue writing, a thought pops into my head and I stop writing. I begin tapping my pen on the page, contemplating whether I should ask my next question.
“Why me?” I ask.
He looks at me and plants both of his feet on the floor, scooting his chair closer to the table. He intertwines his fingers and sets his hands on the table, leaning forward but not making eye contact.
“I asked Mondia for a Ph.D-bound grad student to teach my class. I don’t know if you’ve decided on whether to pursue one, but he recommended you because he can see you teaching at a university, or even running your own lab. You have all the potential to do everything I didn’t do, and maybe that makes you more qualified than me to teach my students about a pillar of science that cost me everything in the scientific community when I rejected it. The only thing you lack, according to Modia, is being able to explain your study at different levels of audience intelligence. These kids won't know what a p-value is. You'd have to meet them where they are in order for them to absorb what you're talking about. When we're not poking sea slugs, tell us about your work. What do you question? What do you believe? What did you do about it?” He says, looking me in the eyes. This is the first time that I notice that his eyes are a hypnotizing shade of blue. Feeling self-conscious, I look down at my notebook and begin tapping my pen again.
“As a former grad student, I already know what you’re thinking. You’ve got imposter syndrome; every grad student’s best friend. You feel like you’re not qualified, you didn’t do enough, or that you just suck at everything. If anything, it keeps you humble when you learn how to control it or know when you need to hear it. Maybe I should have had more of it when I was doing my Ph.D.” He chuckles to himself.
“I mean, you’re not wrong. I do feel imposter syndrome sometimes, but not to the point where I stop myself from taking certain opportunities. I went through a lot to get to where I am today, especially since both my parents weren’t very familiar with the college systems in the United States. I figured out everything on my own, and I owe it to the bio-tech companies who believed in me enough to fund my research and pay for my tuition for both grad and undergrad. I- I think I owe it to myself too.” I say, beginning to fall deeper in thought.
“You really are more qualified than me. You’ve got a headstart with everything you’ve done. I hope it takes you to places you could only dream of, and from the looks of it, you’ve brought yourself to some of those places already. I hope my students and I can help prove that to you.”
I look down at my notebook and smile, not wanting to make eye contact. I’m not sure why, but everything he said made me believe that I could do it. I could go for a Ph.D. I could run a lab. I could be a professor. Life had thrown many things my way, but no matter how many times I was hit, I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Thank you, Dr. Grace. That really means a lot, and it's been a pleasure chatting with you.” I say as I retract my pen and close my notebook. I place all of my things in my bag. I also take his dissertation with me, since he might want to set it on fire.
“I’d like your number before you go.” He says out of the blue, his tone seemed like he was asking a question rather than just making a direct request. My cheeks seem to lose their color and then gain color immediately after, the only color being red. I don't need to look in the mirror to know how red I look, I can FEEL myself burning up.
“For lesson planning purposes! I’d like your number for lesson planning purposes, only that!” He says, his cheeks also flushed as he sits up attentively to clarify his request.
I sift through my bag to find a small stack of post-it notes and my pen. I write my number on the small sheet of paper and stick it on the table.
“If we’re done here, I want to say that I’ll give teaching a shot and... thank you for believing in me.”
I hold my hand out to shake his, and wait until he accepts the gesture.
Between us exists a wide range of scientific discoveries. From the deepest parts of the ocean to the farthest visible star, it isn't wrong to imagine that we have the entire universe condensed into one simple handshake. Imagine what we could accomplish... together.
This is going to be interesting.