by C. D. Bell
Dr. Raab stepped quickly around the exam table. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he undid the straps and helped Billy to sit up. “That should be just about it,” he said to Billy cheerfully, in the deep and caring voice that Nessa recognized.
“You—you—” Mrs. Lark was sputtering. “You restrain them?”
“They’re used to it, Ann,” Dr. Raab said. Nothing in his voice indicated guilt or even displeasure.
Nessa had always liked Dr. Raab. He had been the one to pull strings to get Nate’s occupational therapy funded through the clinic. When Nate was having a really hard time in third grade, he’d taken Vivian’s calls after Nate had gone to bed, talking her through treatment options, arranging for a comprehensive evaluation at the University of Michigan medical school that was much less expensive than anything else Vivian had found.
“We had to use these restraints when these big guys were just pups,” Dr. Raab was saying. “And now we stick with them, because, well, as a parent I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, routine is your friend. Eh, Billy?” Billy nodded but Nessa thought his nod looked a little nervous and weak.
Taking Mrs. Lark’s elbow and escorting her into the hallway, Dr. Raab turned to Billy and said, “Come on, Billy; you’re all done for today.”
Dr. Raab spoke to Mrs. Lark in the hallway in a low voice, though of course Nessa could hear. “No, I’m not loving that fever,” he said, “but to answer your question—and I apologize for not getting back to you earlier—sometimes these clinic study days get a little crazy—there’s no possible way that the monitoring we’re doing here could impact his overall health in any real way. Have you discussed this with his pediatrician?”
Nessa waited for Mrs. Lark’s sigh of relief, but instead Mrs. Lark appeared to be holding her breath.
“We’re essentially doing blood work in this study, with an occasional cheek swab or throat culture, blood pressure check. We monitor their vitals, and double what they’d have with an annual exam by listening to their heart and lungs, palpating their bellies, and asking them cognitive questions on a semiannual basis.”
“There’s nothing you’re doing that could contribute to a fever?” Ann Lark demanded.
“Ann, there’s no way. I’ve watched these kids grow up. Their little systems have been through enough, fighting off whatever contaminants they encountered in the air and water they were born into. I promise you. I wouldn’t be more careful if they were my own.”
Now, finally, came Mrs. Lark’s sigh as she accepted Dr. Raab’s word.
“Let’s set Billy up with an appointment here at the clinic. So far—fingers crossed—we’ve got quite a healthy bunch, and I for one will be sad to see them age out. You know that thirteen’s the upper limit for the study?”
“Yes, that’s when the funding runs out.”
“No, it’s not the funding. The funding’s good. It’s very generous, thanks to the final ruling in the suit. But when a child’s body enters puberty, the stuff we’re looking for has either happened or it’s not going to happen. You’re just not going to see those developments impacting them during teenage years and beyond. Which is great news for the kids, for the families. You don’t want to be coming in here Billy’s whole life, do you?”
“Well, no,” Mrs. Lark said. She even laughed. “But Dr. Raab, I want him to get over this fever. Isn’t it bothering you that he hasn’t been able to shake it over three weeks?”
“Mary?” Dr. Raab said. “May I see Billy’s file again?”
Dr. Raab stepped to the side and peered at Mary’s laptop with her. They spoke to each other in a low whisper.
Nessa could hear what Dr. Raab and Mary were saying, but most of it made no sense. Dr. Raab wanted to know which number samples they were looking at. Mary read him a list. “Are we doing the 7IRG with him?”
“No, remember you said last week to hold off on that for now.”
“Yes, right,” Dr. Raab said. “And what about the AVR test?”
Dr. Raab returned to Mrs. Lark. “There is nothing out of the ordinary with Billy,” he said. “I understand why you’re concerned, but I’m not. Kids get viruses, and sometimes we try this and that, and in the end we don’t know if we fixed them or if we just rode the sucker out. I can get him some antibiotics, though, because I don’t like it any more than you do. Would that give you some peace of mind?”
Billy was already back in the waiting room, kicking the soccer ball with Cassian.
“Doctor?” Mary interrupted. “I have a quick question.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Lark said, nodding to indicate that her fears were assuaged and they could leave the conversation there.
Mary and Dr. Raab disappeared into the back, stepping behind the door that Nessa couldn’t hear through while Mrs. Lark, looking around the room for a friendly face, caught sight of Nessa. She gave Nessa a relieved smile, her face crumpling a bit at the release of the gesture. For a second, Nessa thought Mrs. Lark might cry, and she braced herself. But Mrs. Lark held it together, taking a deep breath.
“Dr. Raab is very good, isn’t he?” she said.
Nessa nodded, but just then either Mary or Dr. Raab must have cracked open the door as their conversation came to an end, and suddenly Nessa could hear the tail end of their conversation.
“That was the AVR-12, not the AVR-10 you’re using, right?” Mary asked. Dr. Raab made a grunt in reply.
“Yes, I’ll be sure to cross check it,” Mary said in reply. “I’d better do it quickly. The university lab truck’s picking up at seven, but Paravida needs to make their pickup before five.”
Paravida? What on earth are they discussing? Nessa wondered.
Just then, Sierra and Nate were released from their exams. Sierra ran to Cassian, and Nate ambled in, lost in his own thoughts—which gave Nessa a second to remain lost in hers.
The University of California was conducting the study. Or so the various websites said. What did Paravida—the company that had bought Dutch Chemical, the company that was supposed to make jobs happen in Tether—something yet to happen—what did Paravida have to do with any of this?
Sure, everyone in town knew that now that Paravida owned Dutch Chem, they bankrolled their obligations. Paravida funded the cleanup, the health clinic, the study, even if they hadn’t produced the kind of job growth the town had been looking for. But why would samples from the study be sent over to Paravida?
Nessa looked at Nate. She couldn’t get the image of those thick leather restraints pinning Billy to the table out of her mind. Was Nate tied down on the table every time he came here as well? He must have been.
When they arrived back home, Nessa asked Vivian what she knew about the Dutch Chem study. “Is it connected to Paravida?” Nessa said.
“Paravida?” said Vivian. She was in the middle of paying bills, the checkbook open on the kitchen table in front of her. Vivian hated paying bills, and usually Nessa avoided bothering her when she was doing it, but this was important. “They pay for it, but the clinic is run independently, and Dr. Raab works for some university hospital. I think it’s the University of Michigan.”
“Actually, Bree googled him. He works for the University of California.”
Vivian looked up. “That does seem a little far away.”
“And I heard something today that made it sound like they were sending Billy Lark’s samples over to Paravida. Like, there was some kind of regular Paravida pickup at the clinic.”
“Look, Nessa,” Vivian said, glancing down at the checkbook as if trying not to lose her place, then laying her pen on top of it. “The clinic is one of the best things that has ever happened to Tether. Health care, the doctors there, we are so lucky to have this in our town. And I don’t care where Dr. Raab is based. That man has stuck with us through high and low and has been a very good friend to our entire family. Remember what he did for Nate. Mary is great too. If you hear Paravida mentioned, I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation. I’ve got enough to worry
about, and you shouldn’t worry either.”
“Do you know that they’re strapping the kids to the exam tables?”
“What do you mean?” Vivian said, her brow wrinkling in a frown.
“I saw Billy Lark in one of the rooms, just today.”
“That’s weird,” said Vivian. “Did you ask about it?”
“Mrs. Lark did. They told her they had to do it when the kids were little and now they’re used to it and they want to keep them feeling like it’s all part of the same routine.
“I buy that,” Vivian said, drawing out the words like she was still making up her mind as she said them. “I’m not sure I love it, but having worked with dogs and muzzles, I know sometimes helping someone doesn’t look that pretty.”
“I guess,” Nessa said.
Vivian leveled her with a look. “Don’t you go worrying about this,” she said. “Nate is fine. Dr. Raab is fine. You worry about you. Let me take care of the rest of it, okay?”
Nessa nodded. When her mom laid down the law like this, it was best to listen.
“Okay.”
But before she got ready for her date with Cassian, Nessa sat down at the family computer, in the swivel chair usually occupied by Delphine. Without knowing what she was looking for exactly, she googled “Paravida” and came up with the company’s home page.
Nessa scrolled through a slide show of professionally shot images. Kids sleeping in a tent, lit up by flashlights. An oil rig out on an ocean with a clean-cut man in a hard hat in the foreground. A woman in a lab coat holding up a beaker with a city skyline behind her, lit up by signs in Japanese characters melted on to the image.
The company seemed to make everything from light bulbs and nonstick pans to green energy and antibiotics.
Nessa opened a new window. She searched Michigan + Paravida + news + Dutch Chemical and came up with a series of articles from the Detroit Free Press website with headlines like “White Knight to Rescue Dutch Chem,” “Paravida to Bring Jobs to Central Michigan,” and “Paravida Commits Funds to Tether, MI.” Nessa read them all, finding the story of Paravida as she remembered it.
Although she was pretty young during the years of Dutch Chem’s worst water contamination, she remembered adults discussing the lawsuit. Vivian had explained that the court was forcing Dutch Chem to stop polluting immediately, and after that order, the company, already in bad shape, went into free fall, with layoffs affecting almost every family in Tether either directly or indirectly.
There had been fights in town. People who lost their jobs blamed the families suing Dutch Chem. The families suing were outraged at the outrage. What could be more important than the health of their children?
In the end, it hadn’t mattered what people in Tether wanted or didn’t want.
Nessa had learned the word “Pyrrhic” then, as in “Pyrrhic victory.” It essentially meant empty. It described what happens when you win a lawsuit against a company that’s already declared bankruptcy and doesn’t have the money to pay the settlement to the affected families or fund the legally mandated health clinic or the long-term study on the Dutch Chem aftereffects.
Nessa had been in eighth grade when the parent company had declared bankruptcy. She remembered the state-funded scientists coming in to run tests in the town. And then, there had been nothing.
There had been no Dutch Chem. And Tether families sank even lower. Dr. Morgan had cut Vivian’s hours at the vet’s, and they’d gone on food stamps. Some of Nessa’s friends had had to move.
Then, just as Nessa was getting ready for her eighth-grade graduation, the news spread through town like wildfire. The bankrupt Dutch Chem had been purchased. At first no one could believe that it was possible—who would take on a company with so many debts to pay? But then Paravida had made an official announcement and, almost overnight, was putting out press releases promising to rebuild Tether.
Of course, the jobs that people in Tether had believed would follow Paravida’s takeover had yet to materialize. The plant seemed to be staffed exclusively by scientists and security guards brought in from other Paravida facilities. No one in town ever talked about what they were manufacturing.
So why would Dr. Raab be sending samples from the clinic study over there now?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
When Cassian came to pick up Nessa for bowling later that evening, she ran out the front door to meet him. No one saw her go: Delphine was at a friend’s, and Vivian had brought Nate along to the grocery store. Nessa hadn’t told them Cassian was coming to get her—it was too embarrassing. She said she was going bowling and let them assume she was going with Bree. They’d left long before she’d tried seven different tops on over her favorite jeans, finally settling on one the same piercing blue as her eyes.
As Nessa met the car at the curb, she peered in at real live Cassian Thomas, arriving at her house to pick her up for a date.
Cassian opened the door of his car, starting to come around to her side of the car. Before he could get there, she opened her own door, seated herself, and buckled up.
“You’re not going to let me open the door for you?” Cassian said. He sounded amused, and she was surprised by his honesty when he added, “I wanted to make this a real date.”
“Sorry,” Nessa said. “But isn’t that whole open-the-door thing a little out of date?” Now she realized that she sounded a little rude. Shoot.
Once they started bowling, the awkwardness of those first moments went away. Nessa had always been a decent but not great bowler, but that night, she was bowling all strikes and spares. Cassian was keeping up with her, and they were trash-talking and drinking root beer. He did a really funny dance along with the animations that appeared on the screen over their lane every time they got a strike, which made Nessa laugh so hard she had to sit down.
Cassian looked at her with wide eyes. “WHAT?!!” he said, pretending he wasn’t trying to be funny. Then he collapsed on the bench right next to her so their hips and shoulders were touching. “It’s not nice to make fun of people,” he said.
Still laughing, Nessa said, “I’m sorry.” Then she looked up and saw that a bunch of Cassian’s beautiful senior friends had arrived—Cynthia was among them—and Nessa got quiet, bracing for it to be horrible.
But it wasn’t horrible. Kelly English pulled Nessa aside to whisper about how she had never noticed how pretty Nessa was until this fall, and what kind of shampoo did she use? Cynthia just nodded at her like they were in a secret club, and Nessa changed the subject so she wouldn’t have to answer that her whole family shampooed with diluted health food store soap because it was cheap. When Cassian said to her, “Hey, let’s get out of here,” Nessa quickly agreed.
“Want to walk around?” he asked when they got outside.
She nodded. They left his car parked at the alley and walked into town.
“I know my friends can be kind of intense sometimes. I hope they weren’t too much,” Cassian said.
“They were fine,” Nessa said to him. She meant it; they really had been.
“People find you…exciting,” Cassian said. “You’re this amazing athlete, and you’re gorgeous, and no one can believe that they hadn’t noticed you before.”
“Cynthia noticed me,” Nessa said.
“Oh, right, you must be friends, being on cross-country together.”
“Not exactly…” Nessa said, letting her voice trail off.
“What?” Cassian said. “You and Cynthia don’t get along?”
“You could say that,” Nessa shrugged. She knew Cynthia and Cassian were friends.
He looked at her intently, so Nessa continued.
“There’s something weird about the way she looks at me. Sometimes I even wonder if she was behind the doping accusation. If she was the one who put the stuff in my locker. You know? Who else would know where to even get steroids but the girl who spent the summer at a competitive cross-country camp?”
“No way. She’d never do something like that,” Ca
ssian said. “Cynthia’s cool. I’ve been friends with her forever.”
“Okay,” Nessa shrugged. “I’m probably wrong. There was just something about the way she was there when my locker was broken into. The way she was looking at me, like she was thinking, ‘Oh, that explains it.’”
“Maybe she was just surprised,” Cassian said. “A lot of people were. You did make an enormous amount of improvement in a very short period of time.”
A cold feeling seeped into Nessa’s gut. She stopped moving. They had gone as far as the tiny health food/sandwich shop with its windows filled with ancient spider plants. The store was closed, but there were lights on in the windows. Cassian’s blond hair lit up on one side of his head. He had told her he didn’t believe she did it. He’d made a point of saying that to her in the cafeteria the day she’d found out she had to take a blood test. It had meant a lot to her. But now it didn’t feel like he’d been sincere.
“Do you think I might actually be doping?” she said.
“I know, I know,” he said, laughing. “You didn’t. All I’m saying is that if you had, I think I could understand. I mean, Nessa, what makes you so cool is that you go after what you want.”
“I thought you liked me for my looks,” Nessa said, turning it into a joke on the surface. Underneath, she was trying to understand. Was Cassian backpedaling? Or was there more there? After all, he was saying what she’d been thinking all fall. Hadn’t their shared ambition been what Nessa had seen in Cassian all along?
Somehow his saying it out loud to her made it sound ugly.
“I guess I shouldn’t really say this, but it’s true so I will,” Cassian went on. “I don’t care if you did take whatever illegal substance. I would understand. I would even kind of respect you for it. You see, Nessa, I’m not here because I like you and isn’t that sweet and first date and all that crap. I really like you. I think this might be serious for me. I think you might be…the most interesting person in Tether. I think you’re going to have an amazing future. I think we’re both going to have that. And I just…I just want to be around you more.”