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Description
Chapter 4: Ode to a Fetal Pig

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Bee-
CRASH.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Damn it!"
Rylee poked her head out from under the blanket and picked up the fallen alarm clock, setting it back on the end table and shutting it off. She swung her legs off the bed and stood up. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, looked around, and grabbed her clothes from the chair where she'd laid them out.
"Mroww!"
"Sorry Meatloaf," she told the kitten, who'd fallen indignantly to the floor. She headed for the shower to wake up.
Toweling her hair dry on the way back to her room, Rylee noticed something strange. The window...why was it open? Rylee was sure it hadn't been open last night. In fact, it probably hadn't been open since the spring. She closed it, turning the latch on top to lock it. She paused there for a moment, looking at the old oak tree in the backyard. The leaves (few of which remained after three days of rain last week) were bright orange, swaying in a faint morning breeze. A few patches of snow remained, the result of a freak snowstorm the day before Halloween.
Rylee grabbed her bag and thundered down the stairs, depositing her bag by the door and heading for the kitchen. She threw a piece of bread into the toaster and turned on the TV.
"Police have no new leads in the death of sixteen-year-old Charlotte Reid," the news reporter announced. "Officers have been receiving multiple reports of a man in a green truck, but investigators have come up empty." Rylee heard footsteps, and quickly changed the channel.
"Morning, Mom," she said, grabbing the butter from the fridge.
"What are you watching?" Her mother asked, glancing at the TV.
"No idea," Rylee lied. "I just turned it on."
"Meatloaf, get off the table," her mother said, scooping the kitten up and handing him to Rylee. "You need to keep your cat off the table," she said. Rylee took the cat, scratching the fur under his chin.
"You know better, silly kitty," she said to it, setting the kitten on the floor and pointing to his food dish. She grabbed a can of wet cat food from the shelf, opened it, and spooned half onto a small plate.
"Mreow!"
Rylee put the plate down next to the cat food dish, and smiled as the kitten pounced on the food.
"How did you sleep?" Her father asked, coming into the kitchen and grabbing a coffee mug from the counter.
"Fine," Rylee said. "You?"
"Had a strange dream," he said, filling his cup. Rylee could smell the coffee aroma in the air, and grabbed a cup for herself.
"What was it about?" Her mother asked, stirring sugar into her coffee.
"Something about a guy getting killed in a hotel room," he said. Her mother sighed.
"Probably the effects of hearing about the Reid girl on the news," she said.
"See?" Rylee said. "I'm not the one you have to worry about."
"Don't start that," her mother said. Rylee jumped as her toast popped out of the toaster behind it. She grabbed it with a paper towel, buttered it, and headed for the door.
"I gonna head out," she said, "don't wanna be late for the bus again today."
"Have a good day," her father said.
Rylee grabbed her bag and looked on the hook for her coat.
"Shit," she mumbled. "I don't remember bringing it home last night." She left the house, hoping she'd just left her coat on the bus. She stood at the end of the driveway, watching two birds sitting on a telephone wire. One (Rylee assumed it was the male, based on the bright coloring) flew off, landed on the neighbor's birdfeeder, and grabbed a beakful of seeds. He returned to the female sitting on the wire, snipped open a seed with his beak, and passed the seed to her. "Such a gentleman," Rylee said.
Yellow lights appeared down the road, just visible in the almost-darkness. The bus lumbered into view, the driver throwing on the brakes as he reached Rylee's driveway.
"Look who's on time today," he said in fake amazement as Rylee climbed up.
"First time for everything," she answered, slipping into an empty seat near the front. She gazed out the window, watching the street roll by slowly. Eventually, bored, she dug in her bag and pulled out her book. The journey was uneventful, her reading interrupted only when the bus hit a pothole on Johnson street. When the bus pulled up to the school, Rylee hung back until everyone had fled.
"Did you find a coat on the bus yesterday morning?" She asked the driver as she made her way down the aisle.
"Yeah actually, I did," he said. "It's in the lost and found in the office."
"Thanks," she said, stepping down onto the sidewalk in front of the school. She looked up at the big clock in the lobby, wondering why the bus insisted on getting to the school at 7:00 when classes didn't even start until 7:40. She ducked into the office and approached the desk.
"Mrs. Ridley?" She asked. "I think my coat is in the lost and found, can I take a look at the box?"
"Sure, hon," the receptionist said, standing up beckoning her behind the desk.
"This is it," Rylee said, grabbing her coat from the box. "Thanks!"
"Any time," Mrs. Ridley said. "Have a good day." Rylee opened her mouth to answer, and saw Ms. Davis approaching the receptionist's desk. She shut her mouth, threw her coat over her shoulder, and fled the office. She paused passing through the cafeteria to put her jacket on.
"Rylee! Hey!" She looked around.
"Hey, Lyssa," she answered. "Feeling better?"
"Yeah," her friend said. "Turns out it actually was strep throat, so my dad was wrong."
"Ouch," Rylee shuddered. "Hey, did you finish the history essay?"
"Almost," Lyssa said. "I have a few paragraphs left. What was your topic?"
"The Oneida Community. Yours?"
"The Declaration of Sentiments."
"The what?" Rylee blinked.
"It was a sort of updated version of the Declaration of Independence," Lyssa explained, "basically it was a women's rights thing, saying that women and men were equal and should be treated that way."
"Cool," Rylee said. "Think its obscure enough for Mr. Ellis?"
"He said pick something we'd never heard of before," Lyssa said. "It was one of the only topics on the list I didn't know anything about."
"Lyssa the history nerd," Rylee teased.
"Oh, shut up."
"Rylee!"
"Wha- Oh, hey Eric," Rylee said, turning around.
"You left this in my car yesterday," he said, handing her a sheaf of papers.
"Oh, my Biology notes," she said. "They must have fallen out of my backpack, thanks!"
"No prob," he said. "See you in class." He walked off.
"What was that all about?" Lyssa asked, watching his back as he headed to the library.
"He gave me a ride home yesterday because I missed the bus," Rylee explained.
"He actually walked away without you telling him to," Lyssa marveled. "I've never seen that happen before."
"I think he's trying to act human," Rylee said.
"About time."
"You can say that again," Rylee laughed.
"Anyway," Lyssa said, "I gotta head to the library, I want to get that essay done before History."
"Good idea," Rylee agreed. She said goodbye to Lyssa and headed upstairs. Checking her watch, she settled on the floor outside room 216 and took her book out of her backpack again.
"Good morning, Ms. Emerson," a voice said from above her. She looked up.
"Good morning, Mr. Hunter," she said.
"You're here early," the teacher said, unlocking the door to the Science room and holding it open for her.
"I actually caught the bus this morning," she replied.
"You ready for dissection today?" He asked.
"Yes and no," Rylee shivered. "I heard the chemicals they preserve the fetal pigs in smell horrible."
"Oh, trust me," Mr. Hunter said, "you'll be way too grossed out to notice the smell." He smiled wickedly. Rylee took her usual seat at the middle table and dug her notes out. She immersed herself once again in her book, being pulled out once again by voices.
"Good morning, Mr. Mitchell."
Rylee looked up and saw Eric entering the room.
"Hey, Eric," she said, beckoning him over. He looked surprised, but came and sat next to her.
"You ready for this?" He asked, indicating the cooler on top of Mr. Hunter's desk.
"I think?" Rylee said, closing her book and putting it away. "As long as I don't have to see its brains or touch anything inside it, I think I'll be ok." Mr. Hunter laughed from across the room.
"Did you see the news last night?" Eric asked her. "About that girl who got killed in Franklin County?"
Rylee dropped the pencil she'd been playing with and didn't answer.
"Rylee?"
"Oh," she said. "Yeah, sorry. I just...I knew her, it's kinda hard to think about."
"I didn't know that," Eric said. "I'm sorry, I wouldn't have brought it up..."
"It's ok. It's on the news all the time anyway."
"Were...were you friends?"
"Sort of," Rylee said. "Her dad owns the house my family lives in over the summer. She and I used to hang out at the library."
"That's awful," Eric said. He moved as if to put an arm around her shoulder, then thought better of it. They discussed what they'd heard on the news until the bell rang, and students started filing in.
"Lyssa, over here," Rylee called, seeing her blonde friend walk in. She took a seat next to Rylee.
"Finish the essay?" Rylee asked.
"Barely. It's like a sentence or two short, but I don't think he'll mind too much."
"Which essay?" Eric asked.
"For Mr. Ellis," Lyssa said.
"Okay, class," Mr. Hunter said, standing in front of his desk. "I'm sure you all know what today is." Nobody answered, though several people exchanged nervous glances. "Don't sound so excited!" he said. "Inside this cooler," he gestured behind him, "is our lesson today. One person from each desk, come up here and I'll give you the supplies for your table."
"I'll go," Lyssa said, getting up. She stepped up to the desk, a line of students forming behind her. Mr. Hunter handed her a metal tray, three pairs of rubber gloves, and three scalpels. Lyssa brought the supplies back to the table and placed the tray in the middle. Eric and Rylee each grabbed a scalpel and a pair of gloves, and waited for Mr. Hunter to finish passing out supplies. After everyone was settled at their tables with their gloves and trays, he smiled. He opened the cooler, put on his own rubber gloves, and reached inside. Rylee heard somebody make a gagging noise across the room as Mr. Hunter pulled out a tiny round object.
"This," he said, holding up the tiny creature, "is a fetal pig, a popular choice for dissection. Each table will have one pig, make sure to take turns dissecting so you each get a turn." He headed to Rylee's table and placed the pig on the metal tray on its back. Rylee stared at it. Its skin was pink and raw, it's eyes were closed, and the tongue protruded slightly from its mouth.
"The seniors were right," she said, covering her nose. "It smells awful."
"You'll get used to it," Mr. Hunter said from across the room, passing out the last table's pig.
"Now," he said, "each table, decide who's going to make the first cut." Rylee and Lyssa both looked at Eric, who grinned sheepishly and picked up his scalpel. Mr. Hunter went around the tables, showing each student where to make the first cut. He assisted Eric in cutting the pig's abdomen (careful to cut only the skin, not the muscles) open and pinning the flaps to the tray.
"Oh god," Lyssa said, recoiling.
"This...this is so gross," Rylee said, half shock and half excitement. "Is that its liver?"
"Indeed it is," Mr. Hunter said. "See the shiny thing on top of it?" Rylee nodded in disgust. "That's the peritoneal membrane, the thing that supports the internal organs."
"Fascinating," Lyssa said sarcastically.
"Cutting deeper," Mr. Hunter said, ignoring Lyssa's comment, "will reveal the peritoneal cavity, which houses most of the digestive, excretory, and reproductive organs."
"Ooh, pig intestines," Eric said, pointing.
"That is one huge liver," Rylee noticed.
"To see the stomach," Mr. Hunter said, making his way back to Rylee's table, "the two lobes of the liver must be removed. Mr. Mitchell, would you care to demonstrate?" Eric grinned.
"Sure," he said, reaching his fingers into the pig's abdomen.
"See the stomach?" Mr. Hunter asked when the liver was removed and laying on the tray. "Notice the length of the small intestine? In a fetal pig, the small intestine can reach as long as twelve feet."
"What's that thing attached to the liver?" Rylee asked, leaning closer.
"That, Rylee, is the gallbladder. Does anybody know what it does?"
"It holds the bile secreted from the liver," Amy Cabot called from across the room. "Then the small intestine signals the gallbladder to release it to help digestion."
"Very good," Mr. Hunter said. "Next, let's examine the thoracic cavity." Once again, he circled the room, assisting students with the incision.
"I'll do this one," Rylee said, taking the scalpel.
"Now," Mr. Hunter said, reaching their table and standing next to Rylee, "cut slowly from under the pig's head to the top of the existing incision." He helped her pin back the skin, and stood back as the three students peered inside. He showed them how to remove the heart and examine the ventricles. Lyssa took over as they moved through the circulatory system, finishing just before the bell rang.
"Homework!" Mr. Hunter called as everyone stood up and reached for backpacks and notes. "Three pages on your choice of the digestive, circulatory, or respiratory system. Due Friday!"
"That was gross," Rylee said, walking next to Eric as they headed for the English wing.
"I thought it was cool," he said. "I mean, getting to see all that stuff that makes a pig work, y'know?"
"I guess it's cool in a strange sort of way," Rylee agreed. "Anyway, I have to head to Spanish, I'll see you later?"
"Sounds good," Rylee said, heading into the Spanish room.

Description
Chapter 4: Ode to a Fetal Pig

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Bee-
CRASH.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Damn it!"
Rylee poked her head out from under the blanket and picked up the fallen alarm clock, setting it back on the end table and shutting it off. She swung her legs off the bed and stood up. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, looked around, and grabbed her clothes from the chair where she'd laid them out.
"Mroww!"
"Sorry Meatloaf," she told the kitten, who'd fallen indignantly to the floor. She headed for the shower to wake up.
Toweling her hair dry on the way back to her room, Rylee noticed something strange. The window...why was it open? Rylee was sure it hadn't been open last night. In fact, it probably hadn't been open since the spring. She closed it, turning the latch on top to lock it. She paused there for a moment, looking at the old oak tree in the backyard. The leaves (few of which remained after three days of rain last week) were bright orange, swaying in a faint morning breeze. A few patches of snow remained, the result of a freak snowstorm the day before Halloween.
Rylee grabbed her bag and thundered down the stairs, depositing her bag by the door and heading for the kitchen. She threw a piece of bread into the toaster and turned on the TV.
"Police have no new leads in the death of sixteen-year-old Charlotte Reid," the news reporter announced. "Officers have been receiving multiple reports of a man in a green truck, but investigators have come up empty." Rylee heard footsteps, and quickly changed the channel.
"Morning, Mom," she said, grabbing the butter from the fridge.
"What are you watching?" Her mother asked, glancing at the TV.
"No idea," Rylee lied. "I just turned it on."
"Meatloaf, get off the table," her mother said, scooping the kitten up and handing him to Rylee. "You need to keep your cat off the table," she said. Rylee took the cat, scratching the fur under his chin.
"You know better, silly kitty," she said to it, setting the kitten on the floor and pointing to his food dish. She grabbed a can of wet cat food from the shelf, opened it, and spooned half onto a small plate.
"Mreow!"
Rylee put the plate down next to the cat food dish, and smiled as the kitten pounced on the food.
"How did you sleep?" Her father asked, coming into the kitchen and grabbing a coffee mug from the counter.
"Fine," Rylee said. "You?"
"Had a strange dream," he said, filling his cup. Rylee could smell the coffee aroma in the air, and grabbed a cup for herself.
"What was it about?" Her mother asked, stirring sugar into her coffee.
"Something about a guy getting killed in a hotel room," he said. Her mother sighed.
"Probably the effects of hearing about the Reid girl on the news," she said.
"See?" Rylee said. "I'm not the one you have to worry about."
"Don't start that," her mother said. Rylee jumped as her toast popped out of the toaster behind it. She grabbed it with a paper towel, buttered it, and headed for the door.
"I gonna head out," she said, "don't wanna be late for the bus again today."
"Have a good day," her father said.
Rylee grabbed her bag and looked on the hook for her coat.
"Shit," she mumbled. "I don't remember bringing it home last night." She left the house, hoping she'd just left her coat on the bus. She stood at the end of the driveway, watching two birds sitting on a telephone wire. One (Rylee assumed it was the male, based on the bright coloring) flew off, landed on the neighbor's birdfeeder, and grabbed a beakful of seeds. He returned to the female sitting on the wire, snipped open a seed with his beak, and passed the seed to her. "Such a gentleman," Rylee said.
Yellow lights appeared down the road, just visible in the almost-darkness. The bus lumbered into view, the driver throwing on the brakes as he reached Rylee's driveway.
"Look who's on time today," he said in fake amazement as Rylee climbed up.
"First time for everything," she answered, slipping into an empty seat near the front. She gazed out the window, watching the street roll by slowly. Eventually, bored, she dug in her bag and pulled out her book. The journey was uneventful, her reading interrupted only when the bus hit a pothole on Johnson street. When the bus pulled up to the school, Rylee hung back until everyone had fled.
"Did you find a coat on the bus yesterday morning?" She asked the driver as she made her way down the aisle.
"Yeah actually, I did," he said. "It's in the lost and found in the office."
"Thanks," she said, stepping down onto the sidewalk in front of the school. She looked up at the big clock in the lobby, wondering why the bus insisted on getting to the school at 7:00 when classes didn't even start until 7:40. She ducked into the office and approached the desk.
"Mrs. Ridley?" She asked. "I think my coat is in the lost and found, can I take a look at the box?"
"Sure, hon," the receptionist said, standing up beckoning her behind the desk.
"This is it," Rylee said, grabbing her coat from the box. "Thanks!"
"Any time," Mrs. Ridley said. "Have a good day." Rylee opened her mouth to answer, and saw Ms. Davis approaching the receptionist's desk. She shut her mouth, threw her coat over her shoulder, and fled the office. She paused passing through the cafeteria to put her jacket on.
"Rylee! Hey!" She looked around.
"Hey, Lyssa," she answered. "Feeling better?"
"Yeah," her friend said. "Turns out it actually was strep throat, so my dad was wrong."
"Ouch," Rylee shuddered. "Hey, did you finish the history essay?"
"Almost," Lyssa said. "I have a few paragraphs left. What was your topic?"
"The Oneida Community. Yours?"
"The Declaration of Sentiments."
"The what?" Rylee blinked.
"It was a sort of updated version of the Declaration of Independence," Lyssa explained, "basically it was a women's rights thing, saying that women and men were equal and should be treated that way."
"Cool," Rylee said. "Think its obscure enough for Mr. Ellis?"
"He said pick something we'd never heard of before," Lyssa said. "It was one of the only topics on the list I didn't know anything about."
"Lyssa the history nerd," Rylee teased.
"Oh, shut up."
"Rylee!"
"Wha- Oh, hey Eric," Rylee said, turning around.
"You left this in my car yesterday," he said, handing her a sheaf of papers.
"Oh, my Biology notes," she said. "They must have fallen out of my backpack, thanks!"
"No prob," he said. "See you in class." He walked off.
"What was that all about?" Lyssa asked, watching his back as he headed to the library.
"He gave me a ride home yesterday because I missed the bus," Rylee explained.
"He actually walked away without you telling him to," Lyssa marveled. "I've never seen that happen before."
"I think he's trying to act human," Rylee said.
"About time."
"You can say that again," Rylee laughed.
"Anyway," Lyssa said, "I gotta head to the library, I want to get that essay done before History."
"Good idea," Rylee agreed. She said goodbye to Lyssa and headed upstairs. Checking her watch, she settled on the floor outside room 216 and took her book out of her backpack again.
"Good morning, Ms. Emerson," a voice said from above her. She looked up.
"Good morning, Mr. Hunter," she said.
"You're here early," the teacher said, unlocking the door to the Science room and holding it open for her.
"I actually caught the bus this morning," she replied.
"You ready for dissection today?" He asked.
"Yes and no," Rylee shivered. "I heard the chemicals they preserve the fetal pigs in smell horrible."
"Oh, trust me," Mr. Hunter said, "you'll be way too grossed out to notice the smell." He smiled wickedly. Rylee took her usual seat at the middle table and dug her notes out. She immersed herself once again in her book, being pulled out once again by voices.
"Good morning, Mr. Mitchell."
Rylee looked up and saw Eric entering the room.
"Hey, Eric," she said, beckoning him over. He looked surprised, but came and sat next to her.
"You ready for this?" He asked, indicating the cooler on top of Mr. Hunter's desk.
"I think?" Rylee said, closing her book and putting it away. "As long as I don't have to see its brains or touch anything inside it, I think I'll be ok." Mr. Hunter laughed from across the room.
"Did you see the news last night?" Eric asked her. "About that girl who got killed in Franklin County?"
Rylee dropped the pencil she'd been playing with and didn't answer.
"Rylee?"
"Oh," she said. "Yeah, sorry. I just...I knew her, it's kinda hard to think about."
"I didn't know that," Eric said. "I'm sorry, I wouldn't have brought it up..."
"It's ok. It's on the news all the time anyway."
"Were...were you friends?"
"Sort of," Rylee said. "Her dad owns the house my family lives in over the summer. She and I used to hang out at the library."
"That's awful," Eric said. He moved as if to put an arm around her shoulder, then thought better of it. They discussed what they'd heard on the news until the bell rang, and students started filing in.
"Lyssa, over here," Rylee called, seeing her blonde friend walk in. She took a seat next to Rylee.
"Finish the essay?" Rylee asked.
"Barely. It's like a sentence or two short, but I don't think he'll mind too much."
"Which essay?" Eric asked.
"For Mr. Ellis," Lyssa said.
"Okay, class," Mr. Hunter said, standing in front of his desk. "I'm sure you all know what today is." Nobody answered, though several people exchanged nervous glances. "Don't sound so excited!" he said. "Inside this cooler," he gestured behind him, "is our lesson today. One person from each desk, come up here and I'll give you the supplies for your table."
"I'll go," Lyssa said, getting up. She stepped up to the desk, a line of students forming behind her. Mr. Hunter handed her a metal tray, three pairs of rubber gloves, and three scalpels. Lyssa brought the supplies back to the table and placed the tray in the middle. Eric and Rylee each grabbed a scalpel and a pair of gloves, and waited for Mr. Hunter to finish passing out supplies. After everyone was settled at their tables with their gloves and trays, he smiled. He opened the cooler, put on his own rubber gloves, and reached inside. Rylee heard somebody make a gagging noise across the room as Mr. Hunter pulled out a tiny round object.
"This," he said, holding up the tiny creature, "is a fetal pig, a popular choice for dissection. Each table will have one pig, make sure to take turns dissecting so you each get a turn." He headed to Rylee's table and placed the pig on the metal tray on its back. Rylee stared at it. Its skin was pink and raw, it's eyes were closed, and the tongue protruded slightly from its mouth.
"The seniors were right," she said, covering her nose. "It smells awful."
"You'll get used to it," Mr. Hunter said from across the room, passing out the last table's pig.
"Now," he said, "each table, decide who's going to make the first cut." Rylee and Lyssa both looked at Eric, who grinned sheepishly and picked up his scalpel. Mr. Hunter went around the tables, showing each student where to make the first cut. He assisted Eric in cutting the pig's abdomen (careful to cut only the skin, not the muscles) open and pinning the flaps to the tray.
"Oh god," Lyssa said, recoiling.
"This...this is so gross," Rylee said, half shock and half excitement. "Is that its liver?"
"Indeed it is," Mr. Hunter said. "See the shiny thing on top of it?" Rylee nodded in disgust. "That's the peritoneal membrane, the thing that supports the internal organs."
"Fascinating," Lyssa said sarcastically.
"Cutting deeper," Mr. Hunter said, ignoring Lyssa's comment, "will reveal the peritoneal cavity, which houses most of the digestive, excretory, and reproductive organs."
"Ooh, pig intestines," Eric said, pointing.
"That is one huge liver," Rylee noticed.
"To see the stomach," Mr. Hunter said, making his way back to Rylee's table, "the two lobes of the liver must be removed. Mr. Mitchell, would you care to demonstrate?" Eric grinned.
"Sure," he said, reaching his fingers into the pig's abdomen.
"See the stomach?" Mr. Hunter asked when the liver was removed and laying on the tray. "Notice the length of the small intestine? In a fetal pig, the small intestine can reach as long as twelve feet."
"What's that thing attached to the liver?" Rylee asked, leaning closer.
"That, Rylee, is the gallbladder. Does anybody know what it does?"
"It holds the bile secreted from the liver," Amy Cabot called from across the room. "Then the small intestine signals the gallbladder to release it to help digestion."
"Very good," Mr. Hunter said. "Next, let's examine the thoracic cavity." Once again, he circled the room, assisting students with the incision.
"I'll do this one," Rylee said, taking the scalpel.
"Now," Mr. Hunter said, reaching their table and standing next to Rylee, "cut slowly from under the pig's head to the top of the existing incision." He helped her pin back the skin, and stood back as the three students peered inside. He showed them how to remove the heart and examine the ventricles. Lyssa took over as they moved through the circulatory system, finishing just before the bell rang.
"Homework!" Mr. Hunter called as everyone stood up and reached for backpacks and notes. "Three pages on your choice of the digestive, circulatory, or respiratory system. Due Friday!"
"That was gross," Rylee said, walking next to Eric as they headed for the English wing.
"I thought it was cool," he said. "I mean, getting to see all that stuff that makes a pig work, y'know?"
"I guess it's cool in a strange sort of way," Rylee agreed. "Anyway, I have to head to Spanish, I'll see you later?"
"Sounds good," Rylee said, heading into the Spanish room.