This Is My Brain on Boys (11 page)

“We need to get out of here,” he said, searching for his paddle and finding, much to his dismay, that it had disappeared. “The oar's gone!”

Addie pointed in the direction of the ocean. “It's over there. I'll get it.” Paying no heed to the shark, wherever it might have been, she rowed spastically in the direction of the open ocean and snatched it.

As she returned, the setting sun reflecting off the water and onto her smiling face, Kris was suddenly gifted with almost supernatural clarity.

He could see every golden-brown strand of Addie's wet hair, which stuck to her head like a drenched mouse, the way her nose turned up just the slightest bit and how her front two teeth were parted by a teeny gap, how her knobby knees stuck out of the cockpit, and how when she sneezed seawater, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

Nice, he thought.

No. Really.

Nice.

“I
t's amazing you weren't hurt.” Tess cracked open a cold bottle of water and took a swig, before offering it to Addie. “Could have been very dangerous, capsizing like that.”

“Not to worry,” she said, wiping the bottle rim of errant germs. “My life jacket was a US Coast Guard–approved Type III flotation device. How are Emma and Shreya?”

“Oh, there's nothing wrong with them. Emma was bummed that Ed came to their rescue, though he said Shreya was relieved. She definitely did not have the strength or experience to handle the bay.”

Addie finished the water and tossed the bottle back
into the recycling. “I'm sorry I wasn't at the boat launch. I assumed everyone was watching TV, so I figured what the heck and went to the lab.”

“That's okay. Ed should never have suggested they go kayaking without first checking to make sure there was supervision.”

“Let's just blame this whole incident on
Say Yes to the Dress
.” Addie grabbed a towel she kept neatly folded on her shelf. “I need a shower. My skin is sticky with sodium residue.”

She collected her anti-mold bamboo shower basket, along with a towel, and left—remembering halfway there that she'd forgotten to say good-bye to Tess.

That was okay. Tess was used to her abrupt exits and entrances, thankfully. Other people were so obsessed with the formalities of saying hello, and hey, and good-bye and see you and talk to you later. Must one always announce when one was coming or going like some town crier? It was so unnecessary.

She pushed open the door marked GIRLS, which struck her as redundant since, being a single-sex dorm, all the bathrooms were for girls. As if to reinforce the sexism, every feature from the tiles to the toilets was constructed of porcelain in what Addie thought of as fairy-vomit pink, a holdover from when Wren Hall was built in the 1950s.

Fortunately, the bathroom was empty, so Addie had her pick of showers. She chose the one in the corner. It had a small window through which streamed powerful ultraviolet light waves—sunshine to the layperson—which were well known to kill bacteria and viruses by scrambling their DNA. Fascinating. There was great comfort in knowing that she was cleansing herself at the site of mass germicide earlier in the day.

Methodically, she stripped out of her skirt, top, and underwear as the water warmed to a perfect 105 degrees and then stepped in, delighting in the dopamine rush as the spray washed off all the salt and freed her mind from its constant whirring.

She was slightly ashamed to find herself thinking back to Kris's braided quadriceps and back muscles visible through his wet T-shirt. For the sake of their experiment, she would have to force those images from her mind and quit comparing him to Dexter, who, although possessing a healthy BMI, found his backpack so heavy that his mother had purchased him the roller kind—with his monogrammed initials.

This was perfectly understandable, of course. Dexter was a genius whose domain was the library or lab, not the gym or athletic fields. No one of any substance would dare argue that brawn was more valuable than brains.

Had Dexter been in the other kayak, most likely he
would have reasoned that the most efficient way to assure their safety would be for him to paddle back to shore to seek assistance (while she clung to the boat for dear life).

Kris, in contrast, had acted first and thought later. Perhaps. She didn't really get a chance to speak with him once Ed deposited Emma and Shreya at the docks and then returned to fetch Addie and Kris in case they needed help. Which they definitely did.

The bathroom door slammed and Addie proceeded to busy herself by methodically working through her shampoo/conditioner/soap system.

“Where did he come from?” one of the girls asked, stretching out the question mark like it was a separate word. “Every guy here is a dud and then . . . bam! In walks heaven.”

“He was at the volleyball game last night. Remember?”

“How could I forget?”
Giggles.

Addie cocked her ear for a closer listen. Tay and Bree, if her auditory powers of deduction were correct.

“I am a total sucker for guys like him,” chimed in Tay. “He's soooo mysterious.”

“Ditto!” Bree said. “I think it's cause all the guys where we're from are blond.”

“California blond.”

“They're everywhere. Even the idiots who've never
been on a surfboard—especially the idiots who've never been on a surfboard—are like
duuuuuude
. It's so hypocritical.”

A hypocrite was someone who espoused a certain philosophy in public that he or she violated in private. But Addie wasn't about to rinse off and correct them, though there was that temptation.

“What I don't get is why he was kayaking
with her
?”

The soapy puff stopped halfway up Addie's arm.

“She's nice enough, but . . .” The other girl rinsed and spit. “Talk about awkward turtle.”

“Ya think? She's like a cyborg in a ponytail. And what's with the skirts?”

“I bet she's never even been kissed.”

Addie's cheeks burned. This was so not true.

But that wasn't the end of it. What they said next hurt the most.

“I heard that a bunch of PETA types last year spray-painted nasty stuff about her on the wall of the lab and got kicked out of school for vandalism.”

“Really?” Another rinse and spit. “What did they write?”

“I don't know, but they destroyed all the lab walls. Can you believe it?” This resulted in two peals of laughter that echoed off the tiles.

Addie's stomach flip-flopped.

“That. Is. Harsh,” Bree said.

“I know, right? But if I'd been her, I'd have left school.”

“Seriously.”

Addie hung her head, the water running over her body, dripping off her chin and shoulders along with a fresh set of hot, salty tears. The only reason she hadn't left the Academy was because she didn't want to go home. It was worse there, the way the kids stared when she constantly raised her hand in class. It was as if wanting to learn was gross.

When she got to the Academy, she felt like the ugly duckling meeting her fellow swans. Everyone raised their hands. The weird ones were the people who didn't participate. Class discussions were fast and furious and often heated, with teachers urging them to push the boundaries in how they thought about the most basic facts.

What makes prime numbers so special? If the universe is not infinite, then what's beyond it? Why is there “stuff” and where does stuff come from if energy can be neither created nor destroyed and there wasn't nearly as much “stuff” around one hundred years ago as there is now?

If she'd asked these questions back in her old school, she would have been laughed out of the classroom. So, yeah, going home was out of the question.

Tess often promised that things would get better. With the seniors from last year graduated, that was one
less group who knew her. Also, memories faded and, ultimately, people were more preoccupied with themselves than others.

Lately, she was beginning to see what Tess meant. Since she'd returned to school a few days ago, no one had mentioned the graffiti or the vandalism, aside from Dexter, though that was to be expected with Kris popping up in their experiment. Everything was going just swimmingly, until . . . tonight.

The door slammed. Addie startled and tried to pull herself together. She could not let the summer students see her crying; she'd never live it down.

It helped if she could analyze her emotions from a purely biological perspective. Tears, for example, were such strange phenomena, with no evolutionary purpose aside from a temporary emotional release—unlike straight-up lacrimation, wherein the lacrimal gland between the eyeball and eyelid produced moisture. She pondered the three types of tears—basal, reflex, and psychic—until the production of acetylcholine subsided along with her heart rate.

More composed, she dried off, ran a comb through her wet hair, brushed her teeth, and regarded herself in the mirror. She wrapped herself tightly in a fluffy blue towel and padded down the hall to the safe seclusion of her single room. Except that when she opened the door, she found she wasn't alone.

“Hey. I hope this is okay.”

Oh, god, it was
him
.

Kris was sitting on her bed holding two pints of Ben & Jerry's ice cream. Her PEA switch kicked into overdrive.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, pulling the towel snugger.

“Hazed & Confused?” He held up one pint. “Or Chunky Monkey? Both are ridiculously full of awesome deliciousness.”

“Um.” She inched toward the safe refuge of her closet.

“I checked, but they were fresh out of fried agave worm.”

“Excuse me.” With that, she shut the door of the closet and felt around in the dark for the nightshirt she kept on a hook. Throwing it over her head, she undid her towel, stepped into a pair of underwear, ran her fingers through her hair, and reappeared.

Kris's glance flicked to her nightshirt and then up just as fast. “I love Hello Kitty.”

She examined her shirt. “You're mocking me, aren't you?”

“Absolutely not. I am a big fan of pink-themed cat logos.”

“It was a gift last year from my mentee.”

Placing the two pints on her desk, he said, “What did you mentor her in?”

Addie slipped a notebook under them so the water
wouldn't ruin the wood, and sat on the bed. “Organic chemistry. I don't know why she was having trouble. Those carbon molecules are so much fun to build. They're like toys.”

“You might be onto something there.” He pulled a scoop from his pocket and cracked open the Chunky Monkey. “K'Nex for the gifted child.”

That
was
a good idea.

“Anyway,” he continued, digging into the ice cream. “I'm sorry if you felt like I was razzing your shirt. You should see what I wear to bed. Ripped boxers.”

The image made her slightly faint as she watched him produce two white bowls and thin metal spoons from inside his maroon Andover hoodie. “Did you steal those from the cafeteria?”

“Steal?” He opened the Hazed & Confused. “More like short-term borrowed without signed authorization.”

She was doubtful that such a form existed. “That's a joke, right?”

He handed her a bowl with a scoop of each. “Right. You're catching on. We'll have a belly laugh in no time.”

“It's better than your duck and aardvark one,” she said, nudging a frozen walnut.

“And pig. Don't forget the pig because he has the balloons!” Kris recapped the pints, sat on the bed, and looked at her expectantly. “Usually at this stage of the
game, most people would say thank you.”

“Thank you for bringing me ice cream after breaking into my room.”

“Touché!”

Actually, after her crying jag in the shower, it was nice to have him there. What had Bree called him? Oh, right: heaven.

He waved the spoon absently. “The thing is, I wouldn't have had to break into your room if the school hadn't turned into a prison. Since when did they close the dorms at ten?”

“Since the summer students required a curfew.”

“Which I discovered when I buzzed the front door and Tess answered. She told me to go around back where your window was and try to get hold of you that way. It's not like I have your cell number, and . . . I was worried. That was pretty freaky out there, what happened to us. Wanted to make sure you're okay.”

Addie was truly touched. “Thank you for your concern. I'm fine. How about you?”

“Good. Is there any reason why you're all the way over there?”

She scooched down from the head of the bed to where he was sitting, by the foot, and went rigid. Him being in her room in violation of curfew and eating Chunky Monkey was so risky! They could get caught at any moment
and all hell would break loose.

The headmaster would summon her into his office and lecture her about being a lousy role model Assistant PC. Tess would be appalled that she was eating ice cream after eight p.m. when there was absolutely no chance of burning off the calories before sleep. And Dr. Brooks . . .

. . . better not to imagine how mad Dr. Brooks would be.

“Ice cream makes everything better, don't you think?” Kris said. “I figured maybe you could use some after capsizing tonight. That water was freezing.”

“No, freezing is zero degrees centigrade. By my estimation, the bay was roughly 12.778 centigrade, which would have lowered our core body temperatures to—” She couldn't finish because Kris had shoved a spoonful of banana-chocolate yumminess into her mouth.

“Sometimes, Addie, it's nice to just sit together and eat ice cream. In silence.”

She swallowed it in one lump and paid for it with the stabbing sensation of an instant ice-cream headache. “But I like to talk.”

“I know you do.” He smiled and took another spoonful. “What do you want to talk about?”

She massaged her forehead. “Your ambitions.”

“My
ambitions
? I was thinking more along the lines of why the Red Sox suck so bad.”

“Because they have no reliable hitting and their
bullpen has been decimated.”

“Oookay. Guess we can put that to rest. So you want to know my ambitions, huh?” He stared at the ceiling, tapping the spoon on his knee. “Well, my short-term goal is pretty simple: get back on Foy's good side, do better than I did on the May SATs, up my GPA next semester, and go to school out west, like California. Major in Asian studies. Then, bam, back to Nepal!”

“Won't you miss your family?”

“Yeah, but . . .” He hesitated, as if about to say something. “Nah. I'll save it. What about you?”

“My family is of a non-nuclear structure.” One more bite of ice cream. “Dorrie, also known as my mother, is a wildlife biologist who travels all over the world going from grant to grant. She's hardly ever home. My father remarried a younger woman and they have twin daughters who require as much time and attention as my stepmother's closet.”