This Is My Brain on Boys (18 page)

“Where do you want this stuff?” Ed stood on the beach, searching for a place to stick the dry bag.

Addie pointed to a silver weather-beaten cabin tucked in the woods. Actually, it wasn't so much a cabin as a rough shelter with four wooden walls and a roof not much bigger than the average garden shed. The Academy had built it to store equipment so school visitors wouldn't have to lug kayaks and fishing rods out to the island. Then the shelter was burglarized and that was the end of that. The school didn't even bother locking it now.

Ed kicked open the door and looked around the dank interior. It smelled musty and was desperately in need of a thorough sweeping, but it would do. “Spider city.”

Addie pulled the cooler inside. “If it weren't for spiders, humans would have been killed off by mosquito-borne diseases eons ago.”

Ed dumped the dry bag on the floor. “But still, you know, spiders.”

They spent the next hour quickly setting up the camera. Ed taught her how to zoom in for a shot and switch to record. The Athenian Committee insisted that each project be accompanied by a video, a task Dexter had eagerly offered to undertake before all hell broke loose and he quit. Now she was scrambling to get something,
anything
, to show at her presentation.

When they were done, Addie and Ed trudged back to the beach, grabbed a bottle of water each, and lay on the sand, staring up at the clear blue sky.

“You think it will work?” Ed asked.

“If they don't chicken out.”

She considered that expression. It was another quirky euphemism that traced its etymological roots to the era when Roman armies kept sacred chickens, according to her Latin teacher. If the sacred chickens ate the grain that had been blessed by the gods, then the Romans took that as a sign to commence fighting. If the birds didn't, then they withdrew from battle. Hence, “chicken out.”

Addie couldn't conceive of a situation in which chickens wouldn't peck at free grain. Maybe if it was poisoned.
Or moldy. Anyway, Ed was talking so she had to pay attention. He was reminiscing, and people did not take it kindly when you ignored them during moments of sentimentality.

“. . . I remember when you stopped me after class and said you noticed I had glanced over at Tess thirty-four times that day.” He laced his fingers behind his head. “I was like, Who is this person? What does she care?”

“It was a scientific observation.” Addie took a swig of water. “I was searching for a prospective boyfriend who was attracted to Tess and whom Tess had theretofore ignored. I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable wasn't the word for it.”

Then what was the word? “Uneasy?”

“Awkward. Totally awkward, especially when you showed up after practice and said you had a proposition: participate in a brain experiment and end up with Tess. I was like, whoa. Freaky.”

That wasn't exactly how Addie remembered the conversation. From her recollection, Ed would have done anything to be with Tess, even camp out on a mountainside and wait in a pelting rain for them to reach the appointed destination. (In Tess's ridiculous designer sneakers, it took 2.5 times longer than planned.)

Ed had had his doubts. When Addie explained, in short, that she could make anyone fall in love with anyone
else by putting them in dangerous situations, he'd burst out laughing.

“Oh, yeah? Then how come they let men and women serve in the Marines?”

“Gender is separate from sexuality,” she said dismissively. “Besides, people in the military do fall in love sometimes, and who's to say that's not because of their surging brain chemicals.”

So Ed was pleasantly surprised to learn that, in fact, B.A.D.A.S.S. did work after all. Tess found a boyfriend who catered to her every whim, Ed won his dream girl, and Addie proved that her theory could be applied in the field.

“Has Kris been asking you more questions about the shark?” Addie reached out to a seagull that was flat-footing up the sand to inspect the intruders.

“Nah. I shut that down. I think he suspects Tess, though, what with the prop room and all.”

The seagull pecked tentatively at her bare toe. She kicked it off and it flapped its wings, insulted. “That's okay. Tess won't talk.” Addie finished her water. “Thanks for jury-rigging the harness, by the way. I was worried Carl would fix the catch.”

“Me, too.” Ed propped himself up on his elbows and surveyed the sea. “I never did learn how you got the idea to pull this stunt.”

She sat up, too, and lifted her face to the cooling ocean breeze. “Promise not to tell?”

“Sure. It can be our little secret. One of many.”

“Came to me in a dream.”

Ed turned to her, stunned. “
A dream?
That doesn't sound like you.”

“I don't know why not. The subconscious is a powerful tool. Give it a problem and it works behind the scenes to find a solution, and when it does, sends it to your conscious brain.”

“Wow. Hey, I almost forgot.” Ed removed a folded Post-it Note from the pocket of his T-shirt. “Kris gave this to me.”

Keep taking risks.

Addie crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it into the ocean, where she watched it disintegrate into the waves and disappear.

“D
ude, you messed with my crabs.”

“What?” Kris dumped the gerbils' soiled cedar shavings into a bucket for the compost. “You should see someone for that.”

Dexter snapped up from his laptop, where he had been typing furiously for the past hour. “That's not funny.”

“Sorry.”

“You're not. You have no idea what those crabs mean to me. They're not just crabs.”

“They're
your
crabs,” Kris said, scattering fresh shavings into the tank and pushing them around.

“Exactly. With my highly sensitized specimens, I stood a chance of securing the most prestigious award
any student neuroscientist could receive. Not only that, but I would have become famous by proving crabs can feel pain.”

“By making them feel pain over and over again. That's sick, man. Not cool.”

Dex bristled. “I'm not sick, I'm thorough.”

“So thorough that you went too far and fatally electrocuted a few?” Kris had no proof this was true, but Dexter didn't refute his bluff.

“Science isn't always pretty, my friend. That's what you and your girlfriend need to understand. The only reason you haven't died from polio is because the vaccine was tested on rhesus monkeys. That's what Jonas Salk did. No one dares mention his monkey killing because he's practically a saint, but it's true. Monkeys, dude.
Monkeys.
”

Kris wished Dex would quit saying “dude.” It was as if he'd read somewhere that this was the way guys their age spoke.

Superficially, Dexter's argument about animal testing could have passed muster,
perhaps
. Except if the goal was to not inflict pain on living creatures because you knew for certain it hurt them, then why would you do it repeatedly?

That's where the cruelty came in, and from what little Kris had seen of Dex, including his derisive treatment of
Addie, it was possible he got a thrill every time one of those crabs flailed in misery. You could tell he enjoyed zapping them from the way he pumped his fist whenever they flinched.

Not thorough—sick.

Kris took the shavings outside. When he returned with food for the gerbils, he found Dexter with his arms folded, looking particularly smug.

“Now what's up?”

“A proposition. Tell me what you did with the crabs and we can keep this incident between ourselves. You need a report to Foy like you need a hole in the head. He hears about this, it'll be automatic expulsion. No questions asked.”

“I didn't do anything with the crabs. I told you.” A gerbil snatched a peanut from Kris's hand and ate it greedily. Cute little guy, he thought, scratching the top of its head, none too eager to get his finger anywhere near those yellow incisors.

Dex opened his laptop. On the screen was the letter he'd composed to the administration outlining allegations that Kris had intentionally stolen and freed the crabs. Worse, he had rewired the caves so as to produce a mild, though potentially dangerous, shock. All unproven. Didn't matter. One rumor and Dex was right—he'd be history.

Kris gave the screen a cursory glance, tamped down a bolt of panic, and went back to feeding the gerbil, reminding himself to be cool.

“Tell me once more that you had no part in my crabs' disappearance and this letter is going straight to Mr. Foy.”

Kris placed the mesh top on the tank and wiped up some shavings that had fallen on the table. “
Dude
, what crabs?”

Dex pressed send.

“I
t's green!”

Tess held up the adorable dress with the barely there straps she'd bought that morning at a couture shop on Newbury Street in Boston. She supposedly got it on deep, deep discount for twenty bucks, though Addie suspected she'd conveniently left off a zero.

“It's not green,” she insisted. “It's turquoise—to bring out your eyes.”

“Turquoise is a shade of green and my eyes are gray.” Addie fingered the hem doubtfully. “It's very short and the material is almost transparent.”

“I know, right? You're going to drive Kris wild.” Tess tossed the dress onto her bed and wheeled Addie to the
mirror on her desk, which was littered with baskets of makeup, clips, combs, and pink cans.

Addie picked up one and read the label. “This might be an aerosol. That's bad for the already damaged ozone layer.”

“The ozone can survive a couple of spritzes. Now let's talk about your hair.” Tess ripped out the omnipresent ponytail holder.

“Ack! What are you doing?” Addie's hand flew to her head in protest.

Tess batted it away. “Relax. We need to get you cleaned up—and I'll give you a blowout.”

That sounded painful. But, after enduring the process, which required hot air and big round brushes, Addie decided a blowout was simply annoying and a huge waste of energy. Her scalp was super-sensitive and she cringed with each tug. When the ordeal was over and Tess had finished applying teal eyeliner, mascara, light foundation, a few quick swipes of blush, and lip gloss, Addie decided she resembled her aunt Jo's spoiled Pekingese.

Woof.

“You. Are. Gorgeous.” Tess stood back and appraised her work.

Addie examined her bare feet. “I don't have shoes to go with this.”

“You're right. You can't wear sneakers or those hideous sandals. . . .”

“My sandals aren't hideous. They're very practical—in or out of water.”

“Exactly. Let me try one of the girls since my feet are twice the size of yours.”

A half hour later, Addie had on a borrowed pair of silver strappy spikes that were, in her private opinion, ergonomic disasters. Unable to stand, she sat on the bed reading the latest issue of
Neuroscience Today
while Tess vacillated between peach- and orange-colored dresses for herself.

Addie checked her watch. “We'll be late. The dance starts at eight.”

“So what?” Tess was at her desk, carefully applying yet another coat of mascara. “No one arrives on time.”

“I do. And so does Dexter. Promptness is a courtesy we extend to others, he says.”

“Why are we even talking about him?” Tess recapped the mascara. “After the way he treated you, he should be invisible.”

Addie stood to go, only to sit back down again when Tess started rifling through her lip gloss. Finally, at nine p.m., the ritual of their hair and makeup was complete, and Addie was close to apoplectic that they had so deviated from the schedule. She tripped behind Tess, who broke the laws of physics by striding on her own tiny spikes with ease.

“How pretty!” Tess stopped so suddenly at the
entrance to the dance that Addie, who'd been concentrating on kilograms per square centimeter, bumped into her and nearly fell.

From the rafters inside the white tent hung dozens of multicolored paper lights, thereby creating the effect of red, blue, green, purple, and yellow bubbles.

“Chinese lanterns,” Addie said, hesitating. The tent was packed with strangers swaying to the pounding music. It was so loud she had to clap her hands over her ears.

“Now, now,” Tess said, gently lowering Addie's hands. “We'll have none of that.”

“Maybe I should go back to my room. I feel slightly sick.”

“No, you don't. You're excited, not scared.” Tess took her by the elbow.

“I just don't do well in crowds. You know that. I'm not good with strangers.”

“I also know that you have an experiment to run, right? I thought you were here to watch how Lauren interacted with Alex and Kris.”

Just the mention of his name sent her stomach tumbling, though Tess's reminder about the experiment was helpful. Yes. If she simply focused on the assignment, the residual fears of inadequacy and having to engage in small talk—much less actually dance in public—would vanish.

Tess escorted her safely to where Dex was standing
by a potted fern, clipboard in hand.

“You're late.” He checked his watch. “By seventy-two minutes.”

“Whatever,” Addie said, slipping behind the plant, where she could observe without being seen. “What's with the clipboard?”

“Documentation,” he replied, tapping his pen. “When Lauren and Kris get together, I want to note the time when I was proven right about your thesis being flawed.”

How sweet of him to sacrifice his Saturday night to prove me wrong, Addie thought sourly.

“Adorable bow tie.” Tess flicked a finger at Dexter's pink plaid one. “Did mother pick that out for you, too? Or was it nanny?”

He touched it defensively. “Mother, of course. She has impeccable taste. But aren't you supposed to be with Ed? Though, this is a
high school
dance, so it might be a little young for him.”

Tess brushed a thread off her arm, playing the part of the ever-confident girlfriend. “Ed can do what he wants. I'm not his keeper. Doesn't Addie look nice?”

Dex turned to Addie and scrutinized her from head to toe. “What did you do to your hair?”

“Tess applied friction and heat,” Addie said.

He set his lips together disapprovingly. “Well, it looks different and not at all efficient.”

“You really know how to flatter a girl,” Tess said, twirling away. “Now don't go all crazy on the dance floor, Dexter. I know how you get with a couple of Cokes in you.”

They watched her saunter off, laughing as she threaded through the crowd.

Addie didn't wait a beat. “Did you go to Foy?”

“I sent him an email. He has not responded.”

Good. Maybe he wouldn't check it until the morning.

“For the record, I did give your crush an out. I told him that if he admitted to taking the crabs, that I wouldn't tell a soul.”

Addie's heart leaped. “And?”

“And he denied it three times. So I sent the email.”

Dammit. Why didn't Kris confess? Then again, knowing Dexter and his evil leanings, it was highly unlikely that an admission of guilt would have gotten Kris off the hook. Probably, Dex would have used it as blackmail or forced him to do his bidding all next year.

“Uh-oh. Too bad for you.” Dex pointed with his pencil to the snack table, where Lauren appeared to be in deep discussion with Alex, who was wearing a bright-green button-down shirt with dark-green shorts.

“Clash,” Addie observed.

“I agree. She is a beautiful blond goddess and he's a cretin.”

“I was referring to his choice of attire. The greens conflict.”

Still, Dexter's point was not lost on her. Alex and Lauren were together socially. Bummer.

“Don't fret. You gave it your best shot.” Dex patted her back awkwardly. “As with all failed experiments, it is incumbent on scientists to analyze the underlying fault in their theories and procedures.”

“Stop it with the failure talk. It's annoying.” She shifted to the left so his hand fell.

“Hmm. Looks as though he hasn't been expelled yet,” Dex said, gesturing to Kris, who was standing on a ladder in the corner fixing one of the lanterns. He was in jeans and a dark green Academy 355 T-shirt that allowed for an unobstructed view of his biceps. She couldn't help but smile.

Kris climbed down, tossed a spent light bulb to another member of the grounds crew (Addie deduced this because he, too, was in a dark green Academy 355 T-shirt), folded up the ladder, and carried it to the door. Along the way, he passed Alex and Lauren, who abruptly left the conversation to turn her full attention on Kris.

Lauren threw an arm around Kris's neck and whispered in his ear. Addie experienced a surge of PEA, aka jealousy, and categorized it as such, refocusing her attention on the importance of this interaction.

She tapped Dex on the shoulder. “Don't start documenting just yet. Look at Lauren now.”

Dex blinked. “Inconsequential. They're just talking.”

“Then why is she throwing her head back and laughing? And why is
he
enjoying physical contact with another girl?” Addie nodded to Alex, who was dirty dancing with the girls' field hockey captain. “Look. Their hips are touching. He didn't do
that
with Lauren.”

Dex was speechless, especially when Kris had to literally push Lauren away and head for the exit. Lauren tottered after him, flipping her hair and employing the many methods to gain attraction that Addie had noted in her research.

“Fascinating,” she said, taking Dexter's clipboard to record the series of interactions, complete with the coup de grâce of a lip-lock between Alex and the girls' field hockey captain.

Dex murmured, “Inconclusive.”

She returned his clipboard. “There's your documentation of my success. You're welcome.”

The music stopped along with the dancing. The lights went up and Mr. Foy went to the microphone, where he made a brief speech about how enriching it was to have the exchange students on campus. Before he invited them on stage to discuss their experiences, he wanted to remind everyone to sign up for a student exchange program so
they might have a chance to visit other countries, too.

“Addie!”
a voice hissed. “Add . . .
ieeeeee
!”

Tess was on the other side of the plant with Fiona. “What?”

“Have you seen Mindy?”

Odd question. Why would she have seen Mindy? “No. Why?”

“Because she's missing and Fiona thinks she went to Harvard to see David.”

Addie slapped her forehead. “She can't see him in order to return her neurohormone levels to normal.”

“Yes, yes.” Tess rolled her hand. “The least of our problems. Foy's about to call them to the podium and everyone will be there except for her. He's going to go ballistic.”

“And we have to be at the airport by five a.m.,” Fiona added. “Early-bird flight.”

Tess said, “You have to go down to Harvard and find her. I'll get Ed to drive.”

“Why me?” Addie asked. “Why not you?”

“Because I'm going to be on stage with them! And hey, you're my Assistant Peer Counselor, remember?”

Fiona said, “You should bring Kris to translate since I can't be there.”

Addie considered the logistics. It was close to ten. If she could persuade Kris to leave the party, a fifteen-minute
endeavor in itself, it would take forty minutes to get to Harvard (a half hour if Ed could circle and not have to park), fifteen minutes to find David's dorm room (if Fiona knew where it was), another half hour to convince Mindy that the best course of action would be to leave him behind, and then forty minutes, give or take, to return to campus.

Which meant, depending on the parking situation, they wouldn't return to school until one a.m. That was if all went as planned. If not, then they had a four-hour window before Mindy had to be at Logan.

The scheduling alone was a nightmare.

“Okay. I'll do it on one condition. Real shoes.” She lifted her spikes. “I'll never survive if I have to cross Harvard's campus on shiny silver toothpicks.”

“All right, all right,” Tess said, “but hurry. If you don't bring her back in time, there's no telling how this will blow up. Mindy's the daughter of a diplomat—if she's lost in Boston, we could find ourselves in an international crisis.”

And for once, Addie decided, Tess was not resorting to hyperbole.