No Dogs Allowed

The Washer Method

(EDITED)
(Note to readers: Some chapters ahead may not be in line with the new edits.)

C11H18N2O3

Amobarbital.

Short-acting barbiturate. Treats insomnia, anxiety, and seizures. So-called truth serum. Highly addictive.

__________________

The washer method is a widely known calculus strategy to find the area between two intersecting curves by rotating their resulting cross section about a given axis. No one knows the date of its creation or the timeline of its popularity. Just don't ask the calc kids about it, lest they wring your neck.

The qualms against a washer was the radius. Because for every washer you made, there was always some empty space inside you had to account for, or you were already screwing the whole equation up as it was. So, before you do anything with a washer, know there's something you're counting on that doesn't fucking exist, and you'd be smart to take it out before you start.

It was the first week of May. California warmed, its beloved sun coaxed back into shining through fleeting clouds. The coolness of April remained in dregs during the early mornings and late evenings, its winds diluted with the slow, golden sweetness of a nascent summer. The population swarmed the streets on skateboards or bikes, dresses became silkier and shorter, shirts became longer and looser, sun hats emerged atop sunglasses, and the economy crept upwards with spring-fling shopping alongside Mother's Day deals. Avaldi's atmosphere had gone from effervescent to frenzied, its austere nature coming out tenfold in the light of oncoming finals, tentative internships, summer jobs, summer school enrollment, prospective freshmen tours, and the finales of spring sports alongside the long-awaited Diamond Prix Championships.

But between that stretch of a month, I'll catch you up.

Following the birthday dinner incident, I'd had to lie through my teeth about food poisoning to Corvus which earned The Little Crow a scathing—sadly undeserved—Yelp! review that then elicited a very generous gift card in apology, as Kenzo was a rather popular reviewer which should have been more of a surprise than it was. Ramos had apologized profusely, but even I wasn't cruel enough to make her feel bad, and I'd brushed it off.

We had three more games in the month of April since then against UC Riverside, USF, and UCI. I'd gotten to encounter Ian for the first time since I'd met him at the banquet, but this time, on the track.

"Echo Yun, as I live and breathe!"

I turned around. Ian walked towards me his royal blue jacket shining under UCI's stadium lights, his golden helmet tucked under his arm. He grinned at me. I grinned back.

"Ian Gray," I said. He held out his hand and I shook it firmly. "M&M huh?"

Ian looked down at the large logo plastered over his chest. He laughed. "Hey, best candy there is."

"Gummy bears take precedence."

"Whoa, sounds like a bet. UCI wins, you gotta admit M&M is superior."

"Corvus wins, you owe me a bag of gummy bears."

"Deal, man. But everyone knows front starboard is the prime position for winning."

"I think you mean front port."

Ian patted my shoulder. "Good luck."

"I'll need it," I murmured.

I did, after nearly breaking my arm and leg twice over in the second half, but Corvus did end with a win, a whole thirty points ahead of UCI. Ian found me before Corvus could leave the track entirely, something in his hand.