This Is My Brain on Boys (15 page)

“S
it!” Dr. Brooks motioned to two seats in front of her desk. Dex and Addie did what they were told, as usual, while their advisor paced, her cheeks inflamed as brightly as her orange batik dress.

“Is something wrong?” Addie asked, hugging her laptop.

“We'll let the headmaster decide,” Dr. Brooks snapped, folding her arms in disgust. “I called him and he said he's on his way.”

Dex poked her in the ribs. “Nice work, Emerson.”

Addie slapped her chest. “What did I do?”

“Why don't you ask your amygdala? It seems to be calling the shots these days.”

She was getting so sick and tired of him blaming her for every tiny hiccup. “Shut up!”

Dr. Brooks quit pacing. “What's going on with you two?”

“Dexter just accused me of uncontrollable norepinephrine emissions in the presence of Kris,” Addie said.

He stabbed a finger toward her. “Busted! I never said Kris.”

“But you did say amygdala.” She tapped her temple. “I know how your brain works.”

“Please! You're acting like children. Let's just save our complaints until . . .”

There was a polite rap on the door, and in walked Headmaster Foy in his standard summer attire: dark green Academy 355 golf shirt and khaki shorts. He frowned slightly, as if annoyed to have been called from the sunshine to the dark office of the lab.

“Dr. Brooks.” He bowed slightly. “Dexter and Adelaide. I assume there is a reasonable explanation for this.”

It was then that Addie noticed he was clutching two pieces of white paper. She straightened her posture and set her lips in what she hoped would be interpreted as an expression of innocence.

“What's that?” Dexter asked.

Dr. Brooks sat on the corner of her desk. “Why don't you tell us?”

“I don't know. I can't see it from here.”

Mr. Foy handed him the paper. Addie peered over his shoulder, admiring the official language and impressive replication of the Academy 355 letterhead. Well, not so much a replication as a cut and paste.

“It's a waiver excusing Carl from having to supervise the climb.” Dex gave it to Addie, who pretended to study it intently. “So?”

“So who faxed it to the gym office?” Mr. Foy tapped the fax address at the top. Displaying the other paper, a printout, he added, “Along with the fraudulent email?”

“Not I,” Dexter was quick to say. “Maybe Addie.”

Seriously, Dex would sell his mother for medical experimentation if he thought it would save his reputation, she thought. “Why would you think I did it? What in my track record would even hint that I would be capable of committing such a transgression as manufacturing a waiver and then faxing it to the gym office?” She added a tiny gulp at the end of this speech, the way Tess did whenever she was trying to squeeze out sympathy.

“Oh, dear, of course we don't think you had anything to do with this,” Dr. Brooks said soothingly.

“Why not? She was the one who told Carl to check his fax machine!” Dex said.

Dr. Brooks and the headmaster exchanged uncomfortable glances. Mr. Foy said, “If that's the case, then
you need to explain, Adelaide.”

“To restate,” Addie said, “why would I violate my nature by committing fraud?”

Dexter threw up his hands. “Because you've got it bad for Kris Condos and, I don't know, you didn't want Carl around to stop you. Maybe because you knew all along that Lauren wouldn't climb the wall and so you did it just to trigger Kris's PEA levels.”

The boy didn't receive a gold-engraved invitation to join Mensa for being stupid.

Dr. Brooks rounded on her. “Is this true, Adelaide? Have you developed feelings for one of your test subjects?”

“My PEA levels are under control, as are my amygdalae.” Addie shot a glare at Dex. “Meanwhile, I regret to report that my lab partner possesses an ulterior motive. Namely, he wishes to have his project submitted for an Athenian Award instead of mine.”

Now it was Dex's turn to be in the spotlight. “What do you say to this?” Mr. Foy asked.

Dex hesitated for a second and then blurted, “I deny the accusation but not the conclusion. Addie's experiment has been compromised twice, not only today at the rock wall, but yesterday when she ate the fake agave worms and Lauren didn't.”

Mr. Foy said, “Agave worms?”

Dr. Brooks said, “I'll explain later. Anything else, Dexter?”

Addie curled her toes as her lab partner—
former
lab partner—proceeded to slice and dice her in front of the two most powerful people in the school.

“I regret to inform you that there is more. Specifically, it has come to my attention that Addie went kayaking with Kris yesterday evening.”

And he snuck into my room through a window past curfew,
she added silently, the memory of Kris on her bed with the ice cream tickling her with faint shivers. Fortunately, Dex didn't know about this bit of rebellion, or she'd really be in trouble.

“Addie's errors aside,” he said, “my project is more substantive than proving that feelings of love can be created . . .”

“And destroyed,” Addie added.

“My project shows that crustaceans can feel actual pain, which could have tremendous potential implications for transforming the shellfish harvesting industry, and I'm sorry, but I think that's a
leeeetle
more important than helping teenage girls get over being dumped.”

Another glare from him.

Addie saw his glare and raised it with a pair of squinty eyes.

Foy brightened and smacked his hands together.
“Excellent. Nothing more true to school tradition than a dose of academic rivalry. This is how rockets are sent to the moon, how cancer is cured. Einstein didn't develop the theory of relativity without Gunnar Nordström nipping at his heels.”

Addie doubted highly that Nordström would have debased himself by crawling on the ground and engaging in such puerile behavior with the most renowned physicist ever. But probably now was not the time to correct her headmaster, especially since, much to her relief, he had moved from the awkward fax issue to insisting that Dex demonstrate his crabs.

Dexter was only too happy to comply. The four of them tromped out of Dr. Brooks's office and down the hall to the main lab, where Kris just happened to be mopping the floor.

“Oh, sorry, I'll get out of your way,” he said, picking up his bucket.

“Heartening to see you industriously at work,” the headmaster said with a nod. “Keep it up.”

“Yes, sir.” Kris stole a sideways glance at Addie, who returned a shy smile, before heading down the hall to dump the bucket.

“Okay, so here's the main tank.” Dex led them to a large brightly lit tank, about three feet long and only partially filled with water. The bottom was covered in sand,
and there was a small island where the crabs could get out of the water at one end. In the middle were two artificial caves.

“As you will note, both caves appear identical.” Dex slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, removed the cover of another, darkened, tank, and scooped out a flailing blue crab, its claws snapping into the empty air with frustration.

Addie's fingers clenched. She hated this part.

Mr. Foy leaned forward. “Now what?”

“You'll see.” Carefully, Dex lowered the crab into the lit tank, placing it in front of the one nearest to Dr. Brooks. Eager to shield himself from the light, the crab scrambled into the nearest opening.

And that was when Dex gave him the juice.

Zzzzzz!

Mr. Foy tottered backward as the crab went flying from the cave hole. Addie wanted to snatch it herself and deposit it in the ocean so it would never have to be tortured by Dexter again.

“You electrocuted him!” Mr. Foy said. “Doesn't that constitute abuse?”

Dex clearly couldn't be more pleased with this reaction. “Apparently not, because crabs, lobster, and all crustaceans are exempt from animal-cruelty laws on the premise that they don't feel pain.”

“Dexter's right,” Dr. Brooks said. “I have checked the laws myself. In light of, ahem, recent events on campus, I wanted to be sure the Whit fully enforces a policy of ethical treatment.”

Mr. Foy gestured to the tank. “But you can't argue it doesn't feel pain. Look what just happened.”

“The shell-fishing industry would counter that the crab's response was the result of reflexes, such as when you pick up the handle of a hot pot and automatically drop it,” Dr. Brooks said. “When you throw a lobster in a pot of boiling water and you hear its claws scrambling, isn't that what people say? ‘Oh, that's nothing. It's just reflexes.'”

Mr. Foy rocked on his heels. “Yes, that's true. Wait, that crab. You're putting it in the tank again? Don't. I think you've made your point, Dexter.”

“Actually, no, I haven't.” Dexter deposited the crab in the water and they all waited.

It sidled slowly to the entrance of the cave where it had been shocked. Then it paused, as if debating whether to risk another zap, and decided to try the other cave, where it snuggled in safely, digging itself into the deep sand.

“Impossible!” Mr. Foy exclaimed. “Crabs can't think.”

There was a clatter as Kris returned with a metal folding ladder, his mouth set. He must have overheard or seen part of Dex's little presentation because he looked ready
to kick in the tanks, which made sense, she concluded, seeing as how he was so passionate about animal rights. After all, he wouldn't be here doing janitorial work if he weren't.

Dexter cleared his throat and continued. “You're right, headmaster, in that the crab's white nerve clusters that serve for brains do not process much, except information transmitted by the eyes. Instead, ganglia in each segment of the crab, including the legs and flippers, help it to efficiently respond faster than they would if a central brain were in charge. However, I would posit that my experiment proves that on some level not only is their reaction to stimuli more than reflexes, but that crustaceans will seek alternatives to being, um . . .”

“Tortured?” Addie offered, checking with Kris, who nodded back appreciatively.

“Hurt,” Dexter said. “Again.”

“This is why Dexter's research is so groundbreaking,” Dr. Brooks said. “Recently he's been able to repeat his findings, which is one of the criteria for the Athenian Award.”

You didn't have to be a genius like Addie to see that she was losing Dr. Brooks's support. Mr. Foy, too, appeared to seriously contemplate submitting Dexter's crabs instead of her B.A.D.A.S.S. project. She held her breath while they decided.

Kris opened the ladder and climbed to replace a flickering light bulb in the ceiling.

“Why didn't you apply for the Athenian Award by the deadline?” Mr. Foy inquired.

“I hadn't designed the right experiment by then so, being Addie's lab partner, I conceded defeat and joined her team. But now I've worked out the flaws, and I'm sure you agree that my project is superior. We should scrap Addie's immediately, and submit mine instead.”

Tess believed you could hex people by directing negative energy toward their spirits, and for once Addie wished she didn't know so much about science so she could believe her.

Dr. Brooks bent over to examine the caves. “Considering how Addie's project has already been breached, Dexter's suggestion might have merit.”

Great. Even her own trusted advisor was jumping ship. Though of course not literally, as they were in a lab, not a boat.

“Hmmm.” Mr. Foy looked up at Kris, frowning, clearly annoyed by his presence. “You may take a break, Mr. Condos. Return in ten minutes.”

Kris climbed down the stool and tossed the old light bulb in the trash with a bit more force than necessary. “Don't go down without a fight,” he whispered in her ear on the way out.

Her heart surged. “Excuse me,” she piped up, after Kris closed the door behind him.

Three faces regarded her glumly, proving just how far she'd fallen from their favor. She lifted her chin in defiance.

“Dexter can submit his crabs, but please let me finish the B.A.D.A.S.S. project. We've come so far and it seems a waste not to follow through. There is only one more experiment to go—the island—and I've been tracking weather reports. I'm quite optimistic that we will gather fascinating results.”

Mr. Foy, seeming completely out of the loop, had just opened his mouth to ask a question when Dr. Brooks interrupted. “If we were to green-light this,” she said, shoving her hands in her white lab coat, “then you will have to make every effort to ensure against future compromises.”

“In other words, no kayaking or hanging out with Kris,” Dex said.

“I know what she means,” Addie shot back. “Yes. Absolutely. From here on out, I will adhere strictly to the scientific method without deviation. No interfering in the experiments and no”—this was nearly impossible to utter out loud—“fraternizing with the test subjects.”

Dr. Brooks and Mr. Foy conferred privately while Addie studiously avoided making eye contact with Dex.
All those late-night sessions in the library discussing their work and future plans and he undercut her at the first chance. Perhaps he was a psychopath with a malfunctioning frontal cortex. That could be the only explanation for his easy disloyalty.

Dr. Brooks and Mr. Foy returned from their corner. “The headmaster and I are in agreement,” she said. “Dexter, you may continue to refine your thesis. You will need to work very hard, as you only have a few days to write your reports and submit them for peer review.”

“So I won't have time to work on Addie's experiment, right?” He was barely able to contain his glee.

“Correct. Therefore, Adelaide, you will have to conduct the island experiment as well as write up your findings alone, without Dexter's assistance. Is that doable?”