Invisible (32 page)

S
EA SPONGES LOOK LIKE PLANTS BUT THEY’RE ANIMALS
, the only ones of their kind. Eyeless, limbless, mouthless, organless, bloodless, and nerveless, they’re the most basic animals in the ocean. They absorb nutrients from the water that flows through their pores and up into their big central column. It’s like they’re eating. Plants can’t do that
.

They’re thickly laced with tiny bones that make them hard and crunchy, and they’re bitter with poisons. They can grow on any rocky surface, and they grow quickly. If the water plops a baby sponge onto a coral reef, the sponge can, and will, quickly overtake the coral, so the coral’s not happy to see one floating its way
.

For all their lack of personality and flavor, sea sponges are still among the most popular creatures in the water. Their multiple crevices and great wide-open bowls make fantastic hiding places for other animals, who hunker down to escape predators. They don’t mean to be helpful, and they’d probably prefer to be alone, but there you have it. It’s the price they pay for staying stuck in the same place and never going anywhere
.

•  •  •

Hannah was at it again. Every time Mr. Connolly asked a review question, Hannah waved her hand to answer. Sometimes, she even stood. As if he couldn’t see her, right there in the front row.

“Maybe she’ll break an ankle,” the kid beside Peyton hissed to Brenna, and Brenna grinned back.

Peyton wished they’d shut up. She was jotting things down as quickly as she could, her mind filling with questions every time Mr. Connolly said something, but emptying just as quickly when he moved on to the next topic. Cell mitosis. Cytokinesis. The list was endless.

Mr. Connolly wheeled around the front of the classroom, enjoying the repartee and lively discussion. He wouldn’t flunk her, not when he knew it would go on her college transcript. She nibbled a hangnail. Would he?

After the bell rang, he waved to her as she was filing out the door. “Got a minute?”

“Sure.” She held her books to her chest while he closed down the PowerPoint slide show and shut the lid on the computer.

“Have you made a decision yet about that project we discussed?”

His eyes weren’t an ordinary blue. They were more like navy, and they looked right through a person. She dropped her gaze to her string bracelet and twisted it around her wrist. “I guess,” she mumbled.

“That a yes?”

She shrugged, nodded.

“Okay. Well, what about volunteers?”

“I can ask the Hofseths and probably the Stahlbergs.” It was the least they could do for constantly butting into her life. Maybe Ronni would ask her husband, too, so that would make five people. Too bad she was only doing blood type. It would be cool to
track LT’s schizophrenia through the family. Maybe next year she could do something like that.

“I can ask my folks and my sister if they’d be willing to participate.”

That was totally weird, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. Besides, that made four more people. “Okay.”

The sunlight skimmed smoothly along his cheek then stopped at the tiny strip of dark bristles along one side of his jaw. He’d missed that area, shaving that morning.

“I hear you’re moving into Manufacturing,” he said. “That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“You don’t think I can handle it?”

“You’ve got a lot going on.”

What did she have going on? Nothing, and since when was it his business? “Can I go?”

“You’ve got a lot of schoolwork to get through this summer. Not just my class, but language arts. Math. You’re slipping in Spanish, too. None of the teachers wants to give you an incomplete. Working full-time at the same time may be too much for you.”

He’d talked to every one of her teachers? Who did he think he was, her guidance counselor? “I have to get to my next class.”

“Peyton, I’m sorry, but I think it’s time we had a talk with your father. If he knew—”

Her cheeks flamed. No way was he going to talk to her father about any of this! Her dad didn’t need this. “I told you I can handle it.”

He shook his head. “I care about you, Peyton. I think you could go far. I think you could be anything you wanted to be.”

“Why do you care what I could be? That’s not your job. Knowing my aunt doesn’t make you part of my family.”

He frowned and Peyton knew she’d crossed a line. But all he said was, “Let me know if you have any trouble getting volunteers.”

And he was just a teacher again. Nothing more.

•  •  •

Lake Avenue was quiet. The oaks arched overhead, dappling the sidewalk with afternoon shadows. Peyton was tired. She felt like this had been the longest day ever. Eric waved at one of the volunteer firefighters out in front of the fire station, hosing down the engine. His uncle. Eric had another firefighter uncle, but he was nowhere in sight. Good thing, too. He was the joker who liked to squirt Eric with the hose whenever they walked by.

“Guess what?” Peyton said. “My endlers had babies.”

“Those the ones that eat their babies?”

“I saved them this time.” They stopped at the intersection. “In a couple of weeks they’ll be big enough to go back into the tank with their mom and dad.”

“Maybe you should just get rid of the mom.”

Casually said, then Eric’s cheeks flamed. He stared at the red light. “Sorry.”

“Stop it,” she said. “You can’t do that, watch everything you say.”

He nodded, but he still didn’t look at her. The light changed and they began to cross the intersection. She could tell he was still feeling bad. “I saw Mrs. Stahlberg not wearing a bra this morning,” she said, helping him.

“Gross,” he said. But he gave her a smile, letting her know he appreciated the effort.

“I’ve got to do this stupid blood-type project. Do you think your mom would let me use your family?”

“Sure. You can ask her when you come over tonight.”

“I’m coming over?”

“We got that Spanish vocab test, right?”

She’d forgotten. “Right.” They used to study at Peyton’s house, taking over the living room with their books and papers. Peyton liked hearing her parents in the kitchen, talking about their day. But that stopped when Peyton’s mom started taking longer and
longer naps. Now she and Eric didn’t even consider going anywhere but his house.

“Whoa,” Eric said, and she followed his gaze to where a large, fat man crouched in the Stahlbergs’ bushes. “Is LT vacuuming the
dirt
?”

LT had his back to them, his arm moving back and forth, the insect buzzing of a vacuum cleaner going. “He is
so
messed up.” She raised her voice. “LT.”

LT rocked around. A gray Dustbuster drooped in his hand. He smiled and fumbled with the switch. “Hi, Peyton. Hi, Eric.” Straightening, he brushed off his gray sweatpants. He was wearing the same gray hoodie, too, and no doubt those were the same sheets of tinfoil smushed all around his head.

“You better get out of there,” Peyton told him. “Your mom just sprayed poison.”

“Yeah?” He hastily stepped out with big goose feet, and something red fell out of his pocket and onto the ground. “Can you see the poison on me, Peyton? Is it on my clothes?”

“No. You’re good.” She had no idea. But it wouldn’t help to tell him that. He’d only freak out more than he usually did.

“Why are you vacuuming out here?” Eric asked.

That was Eric, thinking you could get a straight answer out of a crazy person.

“Looking for particles.”

Good luck with that one. The whole yard was filled with particles, of dirt, plants, air. “Well, you’d better stop messing with your mom’s rosebushes.”

“I guess.” He wiped the top of the Dustbuster with his sleeve. “I’ll ask Dana. She can help me.”

“Are you talking about her going to the plant yesterday?” Peyton asked.

“She had a machine that looked like this, and it could
see
the electricity.”

“I don’t think—” Eric began, and Peyton put a hand on his arm.

“You know she didn’t find anything, right, LT?”

“Not
there
. But what about here?” He hunched his shoulders. “What if it’s what made me this way?”

So he knew how he was. He understood he was different.

“You can’t detect electricity with a Dustbuster,” Eric said.

“Oh.” LT frowned down at the machine in his hand.

Peyton was tired of this crazy conversation. She bent to pick up the red thing that had fallen out of his pocket. A small, thin book, fringed with yellow Post-it notes.

“Stop!” LT shrieked. “Don’t touch that!”

But she’d already picked up the book. The cover was worn, the pages well thumbed.

“Don’t, I said!” LT grabbed at her wrist.

Perversely, she kept hold. “What’s your book about?”

“Don’t!” He shook her arm. Post-it notes fell through the air.

“Dude.” Eric grabbed LT’s arm.

LT lunged. “Give it to me!” His hands were claws. They scratched at her skin, instantly raised long, furious welts.

Eric had him by the shoulders, pulling him back. “Leave her alone!”

“I just wanted my book! She wouldn’t give me my book!” Eric turned to her. “You okay?”

She nodded, cupping her arm to her stomach where Eric couldn’t see it. No blood, but her arm
hurt
. LT was crab-walking, plucking the yellow pieces of paper from the grass and jamming them into his book. He made a sort of humming sound.

Eric gave her a slight shake of his head.
He’s crazy
.

LT lumbered to his feet again, the book all sloppy with folded pages. He shook his head, refusing to look at her. A piece of foil drooped over one eye. It crinkled against his forehead and stayed there, stuck by sweat. “I told you, Peyton,” he mumbled. “I said.” He swiped his finger beneath his nose, just like a little kid.

“You did,” she told him. “I should’ve listened.”

 [DANA]

P
EOPLE STREAMED PAST ON THE SIDEWALK. I MOVED
aside to let a woman pushing a stroller by, cellphone clenched between shoulder and ear, shopping bags bunched beneath the stroller handles.

Greg halted outside a shop window. “Oh, man. I forgot to pick up souvenirs. My kids are gonna kill me.”

“Get something with a loon on it,” I said impatiently. We weren’t really going souvenir shopping, were we?

“Good idea.” He turned away from the window. “So you want a lesson in nanotechnology.”

“Yes,” I said, relieved. We turned the corner onto a quieter street, lined with awnings and outdoor seating. “It’s about small particles, you said.”

“Really small particles. It’s simple in theory. You take a regular substance like, say, silver, and mechanically reduce it to a very small particle size. And the reason you do that is because when things get that small, they change. Hocus-pocus.” He waggled his thick fingers. “Silver becomes antimicrobial, which means it resists germs. That’s why manufacturers are sticking nano silver in
everything—baby strollers, toothpaste, pencils.” He eyed me. “Probably in that shirt you’re wearing. Your cellphone, your running shoes.”

I resisted the urge to kick off my shoes. “Is that what you sell—nano silver?”

“I wish.”

An older couple strolled past, their small gray dog sniffing the sidewalk in front of them.

“Lucky me, I got stuck with the cosmetics line. I couldn’t do clothing, oh no. Not the easy stuff. I had to be assigned the supersecret, we’ll-kill-you-if-you-tell-anyone stuff.”

I stopped walking. “Like what?”

He stopped, too. “Nano zinc, nano titanium.”

Where had I seen zinc and titanium recently? Of course. “You’re talking about sunscreen.”
It’s only sunscreen
, Brian had said.

“You got it. At nano size, zinc and titanium not only refract sunlight better, they make the lotion go invisible when it’s rubbed in. Remember that white glop we used to wear as kids?”

“But I’ve looked at the label. It just says zinc oxide.”

“I told you. People are sensitive about what goes on their skin, so the manufacturers don’t spell it out. Zinc is zinc, after all. Right? The government’s okay with them not telling you what kind of zinc it is.”

“And this is the kind Gerkey’s uses?”

“Sure is. Of course they don’t put it on their label. They know everyone’s after organic, good-for-the-environment crap. Say the word
nanotechnology
and you’ve got the tree huggers banging down your door.”

Zinc oxide, Brian had said. He hadn’t specified that it was nano-sized. “But it’s still zinc oxide, right?”

“Well … that’s up for debate.”

“But you just said zinc is zinc.”

“That’s what the
government
says. But the scientists are saying
something else. I read the papers, you know. I go to the conferences. I got to know what I’m dealing with, even if my boss wants me to keep my head in the sand.” He rubbed his forehead. “You heard about asbestosis?”

“It’s a fatal lung disease caused by breathing in asbestos fibers.” It’s why I took readings after a shoot, to make sure we hadn’t inadvertently released a cloud of the criminal stuff.

“Not just asbestos. They’ve found that certain kinds of nanoparticles do the same thing. Nanotubes, they’re called, and you’d freak if you knew how much of it companies were pumping out every day, all over the world. It’s a miracle we all don’t have asbestosis.”