This Is My Brain on Boys

by Sarah Strohmeyer

  “You know, I don’t think those women say yes to anything,” Shreya said.

  “Except a diamond ring,” Emma added, stepping into the boat. “I pity the guys who have to marry them.”

  “They’re probably just as bad.” Shreya got into hers. “Anyway, there was nothing wrong with the first dress. The one she picked out made her look like an exploded marshmallow.”

  Kris offered to give them each a push. Which they accepted. It wasn’t until they started paddling off that he had a disturbing thought.

  “Hey, you guys do know what you’re doing, right?” He was particularly worried about Shreya, who didn’t seem to have a clue and was spinning in circles, splashing the water frantically.

  “I do,” Emma said. “My parents have a house on Lake Michigan. We go kayaking all the time. I’ll show Shreya how.”

  “Good!” Shreya said with a laugh. “Because I’ve never even seen one of these things before.”

  He stood on the beach and watched them round the point to the causeway. Then he lay down and closed his eyes in the warm evening light, inhaling the timeless scent of the sea and listening to the purr of motorboats chugging through the channel, the gentle lapping of the bay water on the shoreline, and the call of seagulls. It was so peaceful here that he didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until someone kicked sand in his face.

  “What the . . . ?” He bolted up and shook his head.

  Addie loomed over him, hands on hips. “Did you see two girls come by to go kayaking?” she asked, panicked.

  “Yeah,” he said, getting up and feeling a twinge of remorse. Dammit. He knew he shouldn’t have let them go by themselves.

  “How long ago did they leave?”

  “Not sure. I think I might have fallen asleep.”

  Addie smacked her forehead. “Tess is going to kill me!” She hurried to the boathouse and grabbed two pieces of a paddle and a life jacket. “I didn’t think anyone was going to be here. That’s why I was at the lab. Then Ed texted me and asked why I wasn’t at the beach because he’d . . .”

  “Suggested they go kayaking.” Kris already had his own life jacket on and was grabbing a paddle for himself and a kayak for Addie. “It’s okay. I’m sure they didn’t go far. Here.” He slid hers into the water.

  Addie stepped into it. “It doesn’t matter how far they went. Shreya’s used to swimming pools, not oceans.”

  “A fairly significant ocean borders India.” He dumped a green boat on the beach. “They call it the, um, Indian Ocean.”

  “Ha. Ha.”

  Was that a real laugh? Or was she mocking him?

  He pushed his boat out, stepped in, and fell right over. He hadn’t done that since he was a kid. Total humiliation.

  “Not much of a Boy Scout, were you?” Addie asked, swinging around.

  “Must be last year’s model. I’m used to the newer ones,” he joked.

  “You should read How to Kayak like a Pro by Walter P. Jinger. He’s a former Olympian, you know. That’s what I did, and now look!” She speared the water with her paddle. “Knuckles up!”

  He was tempted to let it be known he’d spent four summers, including two as a CIT, in an all-boys canoe camp in Canada and probably could paddle circles around Walter P. freaking Jinger or whatever, but they had bigger troubles. Like making sure Shreya hadn’t capsized. He got back in his own boat and caught up to Addie with ease.

  “We have to get around the point to see the beach on the mainland by the bridge,” he said, taking the lead. “That’s where they went.”

  They negotiated a rocky outcropping that scraped the bottom of their boats. He had to swing around and extract Addie from a hidden boulder barely underneath the water’s surface.

  “So, about this experiment I got roped into,” he asked, trying to strike up a conversation, “what’s it really about?”

  “I told you. It’s about how males and females react in certain situations,” Addie answered, coming up next to him.

  “Then why did you start off with a staring contest? That doesn’t make much sense.”

  “I can’t explain further.” Her ponytail bounced with each stroke. She was splashing water everywhere, even on him. So much for Walter P. Jinger’s expert advice. “A researcher must always be mindful not to cloud the results with her subconscious feelings.”

  “Like violent urges to pummel your guinea pig into the ground?”

  She dipped the end of her paddle and flung so much water at him, for a second he was blinded.

  “Thanks for that,” he said, wiping his face. “More abuse.”

  “I told you I was sorry. Stop bringing it up.”

  “When did you tell me you were sorry?”

  She thought about this. “In my head.”

  “Yeah, that’s not how you apologize. You actually have to make the words come out of your mouth. Otherwise it doesn’t count.”

  “Watch out!” Addie shouted as a sleek cigarette boat passed by, heading toward the underpass in the causeway. “I despise those things. They’re noise pollutants and regular pollutants.” She pinched her nose at the pungent gasoline scent that permeated the fresh ocean air.

  Kris sensed his kayak going backward. Fast. “Whoa. That’s one hell of a current. I hope the girls didn’t get caught in this.”

  “We would have seen them if they had, going out to sea,” Addie said. “Though I guess they could have slipped away while you were asleep.”

  He thrust his oar in the water, to counter the force. “Hey, at least I was here. You were across campus in the lab, Ms. PC.”

  “Assistant PC, and . . . Kris . . . you better stop that.”

  “I can’t,” he said, employing deep, efficient strokes to be clear of the current. “I’m almost free.”

  Addie, he noticed, was relaxing in her kayak, oars across her knees like they were out for fun instead of desperately searching for two novice boaters who were in way over their heads.

  “I’m telling you,” she said in a strange, eerily calm voice. “Get your hands away from the water. It’s not safe.”

  “What?” He lifted his oar. “Why?”

  She pointed to a large gray triangle cutting through the water between them. “It’s circling.”

  Kris swallowed hard as its sleek body passed like an underwater ghost. The shark was easily as long as his kayak, maybe even longer. A man-eater.

  Addie bent over for a closer look. “It’s huge. I think it might be a great white. How absolutely fascinating!” Against her own advice, she bent over as if to reach out and touch the fin, her kayak leaning precipitously to one side.

  “Are you crazy? That thing will take your arm off!”

  “When else will I get a chance to be this close to a great white?”

  “Hopefully never. What’s it doing here, anyway? I thought they were way out in the ocean.”

  “They’ve been spotted in Cape Cod Bay, so it is technically possible that one would be in the inlet.” She pulled her hand back reluctantly as the fin disappeared. “They’re very intelligent, you know. The assumption is that because their brains are small compared with their body mass that they’re stupid. It’s merely that their brains have different structures than ours, especially the great white.”

  What had he read about sharks? That you had to hit them on the head, hard, to stun their nervous system. He may have loved animals, but there were exceptions, including poisonous snakes, big, ugly spiders, and these guys. On impulse, he smashed his oar into the water, making a terrific splash.

  “Don’t!” she protested. “You’ll hurt her.”

  “Exactly. While I distract it, you paddle as fast as you can to shore.” He slapped the water again and this time the shark swerved from Addie’s kayak and undulated toward his.

  “Be careful!” Addie cried. “She’s just lost. She probably came into the bay looking for chum that the fishermen throw off the docks. As an animal rights activist, I’d have thought you’d be all over this.”

 
; But he had stopped listening because the shark had changed its swimming pattern, darting into his kayak and then out. It reminded Kris of how bats bounce radar off objects to find their way . . . and to find food.

  Poor choice of words, that.

  Perhaps if he hadn’t been so intent on the shark’s movements, he would have paid more attention to the roar of a boat engine as it left the channel, zooming across the inlet at full throttle, the girls in the back screaming for him to go faster.

  It wasn’t until he heard Addie’s shouts that he looked up and saw Ed at the wheel of an official Academy Campion, which he realized was the same cigarette boat that had passed them earlier. And in the back, crisscrossing their arms excitedly, were none other than Emma and Shreya, having the time of their lives, their colorful kayaks dragging off the stern.

  “They’re safe!” Addie yelled.

  “Wish I could say the same for us.”

  “Go away!” she shouted, waving Ed off. “Shoo!”

  Wait. Not go away. Come here! “We need to get on his boat,” Kris hollered over the roar of Ed’s engine.

  Addie cupped her ear. “Can’t hear you.”

  Ed obviously took her cue to leave, because he banked hard right, circling back, and setting in motion a chain reaction that, had Addie been sitting, might have resulted in less of a catastrophe.

  Waves.

  Kayak wobbling.

  Addie’s shriek.

  Capsize.

  Splash.

  It happened so fast, Kris didn’t hesitate. With four fast strokes, he was by her side as she clung desperately to the hull of her own overturned boat.

  “Get in,” he said.

  “What about you? It’s a one-person kayak.”

  “Exactly.” And with that he slid out of his boat, into the water. It was shockingly cold.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t argue. The longer I’m in the water, the faster I’ll be dead meat. Get in.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she maneuvered from her boat to his as Kris kept both steady by madly treading water. He did not want to think what his dangling legs must look like to a hungry shark. He hoped not like chum.

  Safely in his seat, she said, “I’ll help you flip the boat.” But as soon as she reached for it, the kayak slipped out of his hands and floated away.

  “Crap!” he swore, swimming freestyle to catch it.

  And there, in the corner of his eye, was the fin—headed in his direction.

  “Hurry!” Addie screamed.

  No, really? he thought, reaching the kayak at last and snagging it with one massive stroke. In order to right it, he would have to duck underneath and push up with all his strength. And he would have to do it fast with the shark on his tail.

  He dove into the cold, dark water, reached up, and flipped the thing. Water sloshed in the hull as he hoisted himself up and in, just as the shark slipped by.

  Panting, blood pumping, he lay on top of the kayak, never feeling more lucky or grateful in his life. With shaky hands, he released the plug to drain it before the entire thing sank.

  “Oh, man,” he mumbled, resting his head on his arms. “That was close.” He envisioned the creature’s blind eyes zeroing in on his warm body, sinking its massive teeth into his leg, ripping muscles and veins.

  He took a few deep, much-needed breaths and rolled over. Addie was gripping her oars and wearing, to his total confusion, an ear-to-ear smile.

  “That,” she announced, barely able to contain herself, “was very invigorating!”

  “Invigorating?” He coughed out a lungful of seawater and got back in the seat. “That was scary as hell! I nearly got my leg bitten off.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “I was seconds away.”

  “That’s what made it so stimulating,” she gushed. “I could literally feel my zona fasciculata pumping out tons of cortisol.” She giggled hysterically, a truly spontaneous laugh. “I’m still on a high.”

  Who was this girl? They’d been seconds away from becoming shark Cheetos and she was having a blast.

  “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.

  ELEVEN

  “It’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 sub
stance 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?”