This Is My Brain on Boys (17 page)

“If we were back in the jungle, we would be procreating now. Since we're not, we're sitting on Tess's bed trying to explain to a girl in the thick of dopamine cravings why she can't have more of the ‘drug' to which her brain has become addicted.”

Addie may not know it herself, he thought, but she wants love, too.

“You guys,” Tess said softly. “You don't really think Ed will break up with me when he goes to college, do you?”

Tess didn't want to know his answer to that, Kris thought, though he suspected Fiona and Mindy had
reached the same conclusion, seeing as how they were also keeping silent.

Finally, Addie said confidently, “Are you kidding? You and Ed are like this!” And she intertwined her index and middle fingers.

“Really?” Tess asked. “Then how come he's been disappearing lately and being really vague when I ask him what he's been up to?”

Because guys are scum, Kris wanted to say. Half of them are constantly looking for the next best thing.

“You're making a big deal out of nothing,” Addie said. “Give him his space. And if he is breaking up with you”—she shrugged—“so what? You'll be over him in eleven weeks, two days, and three hours. Studies have shown that's how long it takes for your neurohormone levels to return to normal.”

“Provided,” Tess added, “that you don't go back to your ex. Because what happens if you do that, Addie?”

She sighed. “The clock resets and you have to start counting to eleven weeks, two days, and three hours all over again.”

Mindy gasped. “But eleven weeks is almost three whole months!”

“No, three whole months is twelve weeks,” Addie corrected.

“I think what Mindy's trying to say,” Kris interjected, “is that if this is it with David, then it'll be a long time
until she feels like herself.”

“Actually, she'll never be herself,” Addie said. “MRIs have shown that love alters pathways in the brain permanently, so that even when the eleven weeks are over, one's thought process is completely and irretrievably changed.”

“What we in therapy call
personal baggage
,” Tess added.

Kris ran his fingers through his hair, recalling the girlfriends in his past. There was Lissa, his first kiss in eighth grade, who taught him to love peanut butter and pickle sandwiches. Couldn't open a jar of Skippy without thinking of her. Sophie—who went even further than a kiss, for whom he would be forever grateful—and Kara.

What Tess said about baggage? Yeah. That was Kara.

Fiona checked her phone. “It's late. One thirty a.m. We leave tomorrow.”

“I thought that was Sunday?” Tess said.

“It's Saturday.” Fiona pointed to her screen. “Mindy won't see David until school starts in September.”

“Five weeks after that. Then I'll be okay, right?” Mindy looked terribly sad, but somewhat improved, Kris thought. Not so out of control and weepy. More like resigned.

“Well, the trip wasn't a total waste,” Fiona said hopefully. “We got to tour Harvard.”

“And all I got was a lousy T-shirt.” Mindy smiled.

“There you go!” Tess said. “You're getting better already. Only eleven weeks, two days, and two and a half hours to go.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Fiona asked flirtatiously as he escorted them to the door.

Kris grinned. “
W
ŏ
x
Ä«
wàng
,” he said with a wave good-night. He shut the door and said, “You think she'll be okay? She seemed wicked upset.”

“She'll be fine,” Addie said. “I'm the one who's going to be a mess. I can't operate on five hours of sleep.”

Tess yawned. “Yes, you can. I do it all the time. Be thankful you're not going to toss and turn worrying that you're about to be dumped by the love of your life.”

“Don't borrow trouble, Tess,” Addie said. “Take the advice you're always giving me. Relax and go with the flow.”

“Ugh. As if I could.” They hugged each other briefly before Tess closed the door and Addie and Kris found themselves alone in the hall.

He noticed then that Addie was in her Hello Kitty nightshirt looking fresh-scrubbed and pink. It was all he could do to stop himself from unleashing that ponytail.

“You better get out of here before one of the summer students sees a boy here way after curfew,” she said, pushing open the front door.

“Can't you go with me?” he asked, following her out.

Her eyebrows flew up in shock. “Go with you?
Where?
”

“To my room. No one will see. Or care. It's a guy's dorm. We can, um, talk.”
Lame!
“Sorry. I mean, I would like to talk. Honestly. But also . . .” Gag. He should just shut up before he lost his last shred of dignity.

She took his hand and led him behind a tree. It was so dark here, he could barely make out her expression aside from her slight smile and eager eyes.

“What's wrong?” he whispered. “Why are we here?”

There was a pause, and then Addie said, “Kris, I regret to inform you that we must terminate all further contact.”

At first he thought she was joking, but then, seeing her frown, realized she might not be.

“You're serious?”

“I am. Yes.”

He was stung. He hadn't even made a move and already he was being rejected. “Don't tell me you're still mad about last spring.”

“No. Well, yes, but that's not it. This has nothing to do with you, really. It's more about me.”

He chuckled cynically. “Please, just be honest. What's the truth? Because if you're worried about me and Kara, forget it. We're through. We were done a long time ago.”

There was a pause, as if she was absorbing this news flash. He wished he could see her face so he could read her expression. It was killing him, not knowing what she was really feeling.

“It's the dictates of the scientific method, I'm afraid,” she said at last. “Don't blame me. It's all thanks to Roger Bacon.”

“Roger Bacon? Who the hell is he?”

“The father of scientific procedure. One of his core tenets would be that I, as a researcher, cannot have any sort of relationship with my researchee, for lack of a better word.”

Kris was swept in a wave of relief. She really hadn't been lying when she said this was about her. “Scientific procedure, huh?”

“Yes. It's vitally important to preserving the outcome of an experiment. Without following it to a T, the whole project is up for scrutiny.”

“Oh, okay.” He was glad she couldn't see how wide he was smiling, because knowing Addie, she'd probably take offense. “Whew. For a minute there you had me worried that I'd forgotten to put on deodorant or something.”

“No. You actually smell quite nice. Like you just took a shower.”

“I did.”

She swatted a mosquito. “Anyway, already I've violated Bacon's rules by kayaking with you and that night in my room and now this, with Mindy. If the Athenian Committee finds out . . .”

“They won't. I could drop out!”

“Oh, please don't,” she said, reaching for his arm.
“That will ruin everything. If this experiment fails, then Dr. Brooks will submit Dexter's project instead of mine and my scholarship chances will decline by twenty-two point six percent.”

“Twenty-two point six percent, huh?”

“Don't be patronizing. I've analyzed the statistics and done the math.”

“Okay. Sorry. Yeah, I could see how that would suck.”

“It would more than suck. It would be ruinous. Unlike Dexter, I have no college fund with hundreds of thousands of dollars. My father spent it all on his new wife's shoes.”

“Shoes?”

“They were very expensive shoes. From Paris and Milan. Also, she insists on driving Land Rovers, those hideous gas-guzzlers. The result is, I can't afford to take chances and lose.”

“But you have taken risks. And that's good,” he said, wishing she would unwind herself for once. Let go and give in to her passions instead of constantly fixating on awards and grades. “Life is too short to play it safe.”

“It's even shorter if you don't.”

He pulled her closer. “Yeah, but it'll also be more boring.” He swallowed the urge to just get it over with and kiss her to drive the point home.

“What are you doing?”

“I was thinking of kissing you.”

Another pause. “I would not object.” She lifted her face.

Okay, that was odd, but he wasn't about to get into another argument. He bent down and placed his lips on hers, softly, gently. For a girl not used to boys, he had to be careful not to . . .

What?

Before he could come up for air, Addie Emerson brought him to her and kissed him hard and long.

It was nothing like what they did on the plane.

“Wow, um . . . Where did that come from?” he asked, his head swimming.

“I told you. I read extensively.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her arm. “
Cosmopolitan
magazine is very helpful in this regard, but the models on the cover are disproportionate to reality.”

“That came from you, not a magazine.” He played with her ponytail. “Addie, can I just say that was amazing and that you're unlike anyone I've ever met. You're so . . .”

“Weird?” she asked. “That's usually the word people use when it comes to me.”

“Weird isn't right. How about unique? Smart.
Cool.
”

“Cool is a new one.” She laughed and so did he.

“Good. I'm glad I was the first to call it.”

She wiggled out from his arms and stepped back abruptly. “Look, I do have to leave before we're caught.
Just please do as I ask and don't ruin anything. If Dexter finds out about . . .
this
, there would be huge consequences.”

“Screw Dexter. What can he do to us?”

“You'd be surprised. Scans on his brain have shown seriously diminished gray matter in parts of his cortex.” She clucked her tongue. “Textbook sociopath.”

Kris fought a sudden impulse to confess his latest crime even though, obviously, telling her was out of the question. It would reopen old wounds that hadn't fully healed, especially after he swore he had turned over a new leaf. What little trust he'd managed to gain with her would be instantly shot.

“I'll do whatever you want,” he said. “You want me to act like I'm nothing but your guinea pig, you got it. But once this project is over and you win that award, I want us to go out, okay?”

“We
are
out.”

“No . . .” God. This relationship, if it ever happened, was definitely going to have its challenges. “I mean, hang out. Be together. What do you think?”

Addie reached up, kissed him softly, and whispered,
“W
ŏ
x
Ä«
wàng.”

The words went straight to his heart.

I wish.

“Y
es! He kissed you. I knew he would!” Tess pumped her fist and danced around Addie's room. “I want to call Mindy and Fiona and personally thank them for making him come to my room last night. I totally won that.”

Addie propped herself up on her elbows and checked the time. “It's not even eight o'clock, and I've had only five hours and thirty-six minutes of sleep, far short of the requisite for optimal health and cognition.”

Tess flopped on the bed. “I couldn't wait. I heard you two last night through my window and have been dying to get the lowdown ever since. So how was it? Please tell me he wasn't one of those slobbery kissers. That is the
worst
. No, the worst is a pushy tongue, like they're trying
to imitate some awful movie.”

Addie had no intention of divulging any details. Besides, Tess had her own problems to keep her tossing and turning instead of how Kris kissed or if Ed would drop her after the UChicago freshman mixer. For example, what kind of college she had a chance of getting into. If the girl spent as much effort on biology as she did on gossip, she'd be acing the AP exam with a 5 instead of a 2.

“Come on, Addie,” Tess whined. “A clue. A hint. I'll take anything at this moment.”

“Let's just say that in scientific terms, the sensory stimulation was highly satisfactory.” She hopped out of bed and proceeded through a set of early-morning yoga poses to shake off the sleepiness. Warrior. Downward dog. Headstand, or whatever you called it in yoga-ese. It had to have a name.

“Ugh. You're killing me!” Tess cried, rolling over onto her back. “How can you be so calm when there's so much to do?”

That reminded her. The weather report!

Addie ran over to her laptop, where the National Weather Service outpost for New England was bookmarked. Forecast for the next twenty-four hours was brilliant sunshine. She clicked on the radar and scrolled down. This was it; her one remaining chance to snag the Athenian rested on a moving low-pressure area swirling off the coast of Delaware.

“You have to leave,” she told Tess bluntly, gathering her shampoo and towel for a fast shower. “I need to prepare.”

“I'll say. Hair. Nails. And what about a dress? You didn't bring one, did you?”

Addie paused at the door. “Why would I need a dress for Owl Island?”

“Owl Island? Forget that. I'm talking about the dance tonight. Kris is going to be there and you need to deliver the one-two punch. Impulsive kiss, knockout dress. Leave him flat on the floor.”

It would be impossible to flatten Kris, as he was at least 185.42 centimeters high and 67.13 kilograms in weight and, therefore, able to withstand any blunt trauma she might be capable of delivering. But never mind. She couldn't stand around quibbling with Tess about her wild hyperboles. There were reports to be written.

“I don't care what I wear,” she said, hoping Tess would just drop this makeover business. “And I don't have time to shop, not with my Athenian Award on the line.”

“All right. All right. I'll go to Boston and find something for you,” Tess conceded reluctantly, as if that hadn't been her plan all along.

It didn't surprise her that Dexter was already hard at work when Addie breezed into the lab singing a nonsensical tune about the periodic table of elements, a snappy
ditty her mother taught her as a child. Her heart was light, and outside, the morning fog was burning off to reveal a warm summer day with a few fluffy white clouds drifting over the calm turquoise sea.

“No humming.” Dexter pointed to the handwritten sign to that effect that he had tacked up next to the posters about the importance of safety goggles and what to do in case of a chemical spill.

If there were anything out of the ordinary, it was that instead of being at his usual post with an eye to a microscope or staring at the screen of his laptop, Dexter was on his hands and knees crawling around underneath a lab table.

“Are you okay?” Addie placed her own laptop on the table and knelt to his level. Perhaps he was suffering from food poisoning or appendicitis. Dexter lived in fear of dirt.

“Of course I'm not okay,” he snapped, inspecting a junction of black wires at the base of the wall. Tentatively, he probed one with a plastic spoon.

“What are you doing?”

“I am following this UA wiring from tank number two to identify why, exactly, my caves are no longer electrified.” He fiddled with a plug. “Incredible. I don't know how he did it.”

“Who?”

“You know who.”

“No, I don't.”

Dexter was making no sense. Maybe he didn't get the recommended minimum 7.5 hours of sleep, either.

“You are being extremely vague,” Addie said. “I might be able to assist if you were more forthcoming with specific information.”

He yanked the plug and tossed it aside. “Trust me, Addie, the last person I want to assist me is you.”

That hurt. Dex was being so nasty to her lately, bad-mouthing their experiment, tattling on her to Dr. Brooks and Headmaster Foy. It was becoming difficult to remember when they used to be partners, even friends!

Forget it, she thought, booting up her laptop. “There's no reason for you to lash out at me just because you're experiencing lower serotonin levels. Get your meds adjusted.”

He rose and brushed off his knees. “Guess what? Not every action, mood, and/or emotion has to do with brain chemicals.” He slammed her laptop shut and glowered, though if his intent was to be threatening, then the spouting whale monogram on his peach-colored golf shirt was working against him.

“I happen to have a perfectly legitimate reason for being furious,” he said. “Do you remember yesterday when I showed Mr. Foy my crabs?”

“How could I not?”

He waved an accusatory finger, which, Addie thought, had been getting quite a lot of action lately with all his nagging. “
That
is why you did what you did.”

“What did I do?”

“You know.”

“Again, I don't.” Honestly, this was beginning to resemble a seventeenth-century witch inquisition. “Would you just tell me?”

Dexter's chest heaved, prompting a spasm of coughing. “Look at my tank.”

She peered into the tank. Same sand and rocks and a little island. Same two caves. “So?”

“Do you see any crabs?”

“No. But you keep them in the other tank, the darkened one.”

He flicked on the light above the other tank. “See anything here?”

It, too, showed no signs of life. “No.”

“Exactly.” He switched off the light. “That's because you took them!”

“I didn't!”

“You did. You stole them because you were jealous! You'd do anything to prevent my project from being submitted to the awards committee. Admit it!”

“I'll admit no such thing. What's wrong with you?
We've been lab partners since ninth grade. You know I wouldn't sabotage your work.” Though that wasn't to say freeing the crabs hadn't also crossed her mind. “It's unethical!”

He chewed on his lower lip, thinking. “An alternative theory: under the influence of Kris Condos, you've had a sudden awakening to the plight of test animals, so you snuck in here last night, put the crabs in a bucket, and carried them to the ocean. Then, to give me a dose of my own medicine, you rewired the caves.”

“Dexter, the electricity must have damaged more than your dendritic nerve endings. When I tell you I had no part in this crab-napping, you know it's true—it's physically impossible for me to lie. As for influenced by Kris? Don't forget, I was the one who bore the brunt of his attack last spring. So it's highly unlikely I would come around a full one-eighty to his way of thinking.”

“Yeah . . .” More lip chewing. “Therefore, the only other person who would have had the means—a universal key card—and the motive—his proven fanatical obsession with saving lab animals—along with a history of reprobate behavior is . . . Kris Condos.”

As soon as he said it, Addie knew he was right. Not that she was about to let on. “Get over it. Kris doesn't care about your crabs. He's learned his lesson.” Though she wished she sounded more confident.

“Really? Then when I reached into the supply tank this morning, why did I get a”—tears welled in his eyes as he displayed his right hand—“shock!”

“Oh, Dexter! Let me see.” Addie clasped his hand in hers. It was a normal temperature and coloring, aside from having a tad more color than its usual fish-belly white. “Is it painful?”

“Stings slightly. More like . . . a tingle.” He sniffed.

“Do you want me to take you to the infirmary?”

“No, I'll tough it out, thank you.” He removed his hand and held it, limp-wristed. “That's why I was examining the wiring. I can't detect his method. If it hadn't been for the circuit breaker switching, I could be . . . dead!”

That was unlikely, since the voltage to the cave was much lower than the average dog fence. But she was intrigued.

Stooping down, she inspected the wire for damage and found it intact. Dexter was correct in that the power couldn't have been altered at the source. A resistor must have been added, and a fairly significant one at that, considering water's conductive properties.

“And you're positive the saboteur was Kris.”

“He was in the lab yesterday when I was demonstrating my method, and I don't know if you noticed, but he wasn't exactly happy.”

She'd noticed.

“Next day, crabs gone.” He shook his head as if gravely disappointed. “I had hoped he'd reformed, and it seemed like he was making amends working for Buildings and Grounds and, as you know, agreeing to the experiment.” He sighed deeply. “I hate to do what I have to do.”

Her stomach seized. “What are you going to do?”

“Tell Dr. Brooks and Headmaster Foy, of course.” He cocked his head in false sympathy. “I'm sorry, Addie, but this is a safety issue and your Kris is beyond repair. He's a danger to society and maybe even . . .” Dex touched her lightly. “You.”

No, no, no. This was the worst possible turn of events! She squeezed her temples with both hands, trying to block out the inevitable. Foy would receive Dexter's report and expel Kris without question. He'd be sent off to military school, where he'd be lost to her forever.

And last night had been so magical, too. So much promise.

There was no other option except pleading for mercy. “Can't you not tell Foy? You know Kris is already on academic probation. He'll be gone by tomorrow.”

He responded with a smirk of superior self-satisfaction. “Hate to say I told you so, but . . . I told you so. Didn't I warn you about letting yourself get involved? This is what happens.”

Ergh. Dexter was an insufferable, relentless, giant douche, she thought, fists forming. How she had ever admired him for being brilliant was a mystery.

Her phone pinged. Ed again.

Got your message. Want to meet at the docks?

She replied.
Now? I'm kind of in the middle of something.

T just left for Boston. Better do this before she gets back.

There was valid logic to that statement.
Okay, thanks.

After this, we'll be even?

Yes.

Good. Because with this last one, I'm def skating on thin ice.

It was absurd of Ed to say he was on thin ice when temps were climbing into the low nineties, even on the open water. The only ice was in the red cooler at the back of the boat, which, in Addie's opinion, he drove way too fast, cranking the engine to maximum speed and bouncing on the waves so hard she had to hold on to a railing to keep from being catapulted into the water.

She shielded her eyes from the blazing sun to make out Owl Island, a barren outcropping of rock, sand, and scrub oak on the horizon.

“Awesome day. Not a cloud in the sky,” Ed shouted above the engine's roar.

Addie clutched her hat—an absolute necessity in thinning ozone. “One consistency of weather is that it changes!”

They approached the first buoy marking shallower waters, and Ed cut the engine to a chug. Once upon a time, probably not that long ago in evolutionary terms, Owl Island had been connected to the Academy's peninsula. Then the glaciers melted, and water rushed in and separated the two land masses.

But they were still connected in the minds of the Academy trustees, who retained ownership of the island despite its uselessness—aside from on the occasional field trips or bird-watching outings, as the island boasted several species of nesting terns—and not a single owl.

Addie supposed that the island got its name because it was shaped like a pair of owl eyes with deep craters at each end now filled with fresh water. More glacial scarring.

They bobbed slowly as they got closer to shore. Out here, away from other traffic, the sea smelled salty fresh. Gentle waves lapped on the beach, where clusters of small white terns scurried in flocks, their black stick legs moving in the same coordinated unison as schools of tuna.

It was almost enough to take her mind off Dexter and what he was doing right now—most likely sitting in Foy's office signing Kris's death warrant.

“I'm dropping anchor here. The tide's going out and I
don't want to get stranded.” Ed killed the engine, went to the rear of the boat, and depressed the automatic winch. The anchor landed in the soft sand with an audible thud.

There was electronic equipment to remove, including a camera and wires that were especially vulnerable to the corrosive impact of salt water. Ed told her not to worry, he was one step ahead of her, which was an underestimation, as he was already waist high in the water and carrying the equipment in a dry bag.

She jumped in and followed behind, dragging the floating cooler of bottled fresh water. Tiny translucent jellyfish undulated around her waist. She made a mental note to bring vinegar to treat their stings.