“Oh, yeah. This is bad.”
“We’re just friends. And now that he’s apologized for that thing he did last spring, I’m letting it go.” Addie tossed the cup past Tess and, naturally, it missed the bin.
Tess picked it up. “Just the other day you almost killed him in volleyball for ‘that thing he did’ last spring.” Tess tossed the cup. “And twenty-four hours later, you’re blushing. I’ve never seen you like this with a guy before.”
There she went with that hyperbole again.
“For the zillionth time, I am not interested in Kris that way. Besides.” Addie waved to the exchange students, who didn’t wave back, possibly because they were bent over their phones. “He has a girlfriend.”
“So what? Ed supposedly had a girlfriend when we met.”
“He did not!”
Tess tilted her head questioningly. “How would you know? Ed was just some guy in our art class before last fall . . . right?”
Addie clenched her teeth. She was this close to blowing the cover she had so carefully orchestrated. “Right. I mean, from what I know. Now. From what I know now.” Her mouth went dry. “In light of . . . experiences with him. Hanging out. Et cetera.”
It seemed as if Tess was debating whether or not to buy this bumbling answer. Fortunately, the exchange students were yelling about nearly missing the shuttle.
“We’ll pick this up later,” she said, backstepping toward them. “In the meantime, instead of planning everything, why don’t you just relax around Kris and let nature take its course.”
If nature took its course, Addie thought, the Netherlands would be under water and half of Earth’s population would have been wiped out by smallpox. But as Tess had noted repeatedly, Addie should not correct others, so she kept this observation to herself.
And then she went to find Ed, before he ruined everything.
TWELVE
“So, what’s this about you running into a shark?”
Except it sounded more like shahk coming from Boston native Buster, the six-foot, bald member of the Academy’s Buildings and Grounds department.
Kris grabbed the top rung and tried not to look down, where he hoped Buster was anchoring the twenty-foot ladder securely with his size-thirteen boots. Inches away, under the eaves of the Chisolm Hall, hung a large, papery, gray wasp’s nest. He searched for signs of life.
“See anything?” Buster asked.
“Not sure.” Kris removed the crowbar from his belt and listened for buzzing.
The day before, two students had been stung while chatting on the steps directly below, sending the administration into panic mode. It was too dangerous to spray the hornets when it was warm and they were active, so they had to do it at dawn while the bugs were clustered in their hive and cold.
And by “they,” Buildings and Grounds meant Kris, or, as the regulars had nicknamed him, “The Kid,” because he was at least six years younger than the youngest member of the grounds crew. Climbing to the roof and killing hornets was definitely a job for The Kid, they’d decided without bothering to ask his opinion.
“Consider it a rite of initiation,” Buster had said, though Kris suspected the rest of them were too scared to deal with a swarm of angry, stinging hornets.
Now, several hours later, they were back to assess the death count.
Kris extended the crowbar to the nest and gave it a poke.
“I never heard of no great white in the bay,” Buster said. “Could have been a basking shark. The things look scary but don’t bite.”
The hive shook slightly. Kris recoiled. “I don’t know. The fin was white.”
“Pure white? Or gray white?”
Why was he peppering him with questions at a time like this? The shark thing could wait. His neck could not. “You’d better have this ladder steady, Buster, because I’m going to try and knock this thing down.”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”
The crew was always teasing him about his hair for being relatively long and wavy compared with their shiny, bald pates.
Kris gave the hive another knock. It wobbled. But no hornets.
“I’m just thinking that if it really was a great white, it would have been on the news,” Buster said. “They have organizations that track those monsters, you know. Woods Hole or something.”
Okay. This was it. Kris brought back the crowbar and gave the nest a whack.
“You sure the shark was real?”
Kris squinted. No wasps. Good sign. “I don’t know. I guess.” He dealt another smack.
“Could have been a fake.”
“Get out of here. Who would have put a fake shark in the water?”
“Some sicko. To give you preppies a scare.”
One more hit and it would be down, and then he could get off this freaking ladder. “Looked damn real to me.”
“So did the one the drama department used when they put on Jaws last summer. Genuine Spielberg. One of the girls here, her parents are famous actors who know him. Swear to god. They’re buddy-buddy.”
Kris raised the crowbar and stopped. “Are you telling me the school put on Jaws? How was that even possible?”
“They did it on the beach. Total pain in the butt for us, building that stage off the docks. But it was worth it. I brought my two kids and they loved it and they don’t usually go for stuff that’s not a video. Afterward, the actors showed them the mechanical shark so they wouldn’t be afraid to swim and whatnot and that’s why I’m asking—was your shark fake?”
The answer was obvious, and had Kris not been twenty feet above ground, he would have run to the drama department to see for himself.
Whack!
With that, the nest fell and shattered into thin, papery shreds.
The drama department was next to the gym in the basement of Albert Hall underneath the George C. Newbury Theater and box office. Kris took out his clippers and pretended to trim hedges before sneaking to the back entrance, an unmarked steel door that faced a currently vacant parking lot.
Unclogging gutters and toilets between knocking down hornets’ nests and mowing lawns was definitely not his dream summer job, but working for Buildings and Grounds did have its advantages: namely, a master key that he quickly swiped in the scanner.
The door opened onto a hallway of offices, dance studios, a random piano, and a bulletin board posted with programs, requests for rides to Boston, offers to babysit professors’ kids, and a practice schedule.
The play this summer was Little Shop of Horrors, to be shown on August third, fourth, and fifth, the second-to-last day of the session. Next to it was a screamer of a note:
PEOPLE!!!!!!
ONLY 2 MORE WEEKS TO DRESS REHEARSAL AND 1 WEEK AFTER THAT FOR THE PLAY. THIS MEANS YOU CANNOT MISS A SINGLE PRACTICE!!!
BE HERE ON TIME WITH YOUR LINES,
UNLESS YOU HAVE A WRITTEN EXCUSE FROM THE INFIRMARY.
1 NO-SHOW = NO SHOWS FOR YOU!
SIGNED, YOUR MAESTRA
TESS
Maestra? Kris thought about this. Wasn’t sure that was a word. Maestro, yes. Nevertheless, even though Tess was not at the top of his favorites list, he had to smile. That posting was very her.
Fortunately, practice was in the afternoon before dinner and then after evening games. Guess it never occurred to the drama kids to get up early like the athletes.
His phone vibrated. Kara. Again.
She’d been after him to go to a party in Cambridge the next night, which just happened to conflict with the school dance—an easy excuse, especially since he had to work.
You better answer me. I know you’re on break. I called Buildings and Grounds.
Holy . . . she didn’t. Now that was really going too far. The guys would never let him live it down.
She answered his frantic call with a menacing giggle. “I knew that’d get your attention. You are such a sucker, Condor.”
He exhaled in relief. “So you didn’t call the office?”
Though she was, in fact, stalkerish. “I’m working. What do you want?”
“Oh, have I interrupted your lunch? That’s very working-class hero of you, to be so protective of your baloney and cheese time. Wait, you don’t wear a tool belt, do you? Because I am there in a New York minute if you have a tool belt.”
It was eleven forty-five. In fifteen minutes, he had to be at the gym for the third part of the experiment. “Not to change this fascinating subject,” he said, “but weren’t you involved in drama for a while?”
“Don’t remind me. Annie. I was orphan number three. The reviews were rave.” She yawned. “Why? What are you up to?”
Above him, a door slammed, followed by footsteps. He had to hurry because he could not get caught, not with his ass already on the line with Foy. “Do you know where the prop room is?”
“Under the stage. Is that where you and I are meeting up?” Another shrill giggle that sent shivers up his spine.
“I’ll tell you later. Thanks.” He hung up and found the right door and unlocked it. His heart sank as he faced a maze of black walls, floors and ceilings zigzagging this way and that.
His phone buzzed. Kara. Seriously? Since ignoring her would only make matter worse, he answered with an irritated, “What now?”
“You didn’t tell me what time you’re picking me up for the party. We can meet in Harvard Square or”—she paused—“you could just come to the Back Bay. No parental supervision, remember?”
The prop room was marked, helpfully, PROPS. He flicked on the light and surveyed the racks of costumes and mess of odd scenery. These drama people were pigs!
Juliet’s balcony was shoved in a corner, along with brightly painted plywood flowers that were either from the Wizard of Oz or Dr. Seuss. He had to climb over what appeared to be the remnants of a makeshift barn until he found it: a gigantic mechanical great white shark with no underside except for wires encased in Plexiglas.
He found the switch hidden in the “belly” and flicked it on. The motor had been insulated for total silence. Even when Kris depressed the forward button on the remote control, he could barely make out the gears churning.
“Score.” Kris pumped his fist and used his phone to take a picture for proof. He couldn’t wait to show this to Addie.
“You’re not answering me!” Kara’s voice came out small and far away as he took seven shots from various angles.
“Sorry,” he said, getting back on. “What was that again?”
She sighed. “I’m talking about the party. What time are we meeting up?”
He shifted gears, turning off the light and shutting the door. “No can do. Seriously, I have to go to this school dance.”
“Have to or want to?”
“Have to. Gotta work. Foy’s orders.” It was a half-truth. No point in further angering Kara in adding that he wanted to go because Addie would be there.
“You continue to be a disappointment to me, Condor, with all this obeying and industriousness. Good thing you’re cute, otherwise I’d dump your sorry butt.”
Wish you would, he thought, turning off the prop-room light and backing slowly out the door.
“That’s it. You’ve left me no choice. I am coming over there to get you. What do you think about that?”
Kris did not take the bait. “I think I’ve got to get back to the job. Thanks for the help. Bye!” And clicked off.
Someday Kara would get the hint, right? She had to, because otherwise he would have to tell her, again, that they were over. History. Finito.
In the past, whenever he so much as mentioned maybe seeing other people, she’d burst into tears about how she was going through a lot and he wasn’t helping, thank you very much.
“Go. Just go!” she’d order. “Leave me alone so I can do what I have to do.”
And of course, he couldn’t leave after that.
It’d been easier to stay put and tolerate her roller-coaster moods. Until now.
Until Addie.
Whenever he was in Addie’s orbit, he instantly felt sharper and brighter, as if her genius was contagious. She made him want to match her point for point, fact for fact, with his intelligence.
The other night, motivated by a sudden burst of academic curiosity, he actually went to the library to read. For fun. Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. Dude was alive 1,800 years ago and was still completely readable.
Ah, but he wasn’t pure as all that. The other side of him also wanted to pull out that ponytail and kiss those sweet lips. He had an evil urge to coax out the passionate, fiery girl trapped in the perfect model of a straight-A student.
But none of that was possible with Kara in the picture. As long as she was texting him every hour and threatening him with surprise visits, he was trapped.
That had to change. Now.
THIRTEEN
What was the point of having a centrifuge, Addie wondered, if school rules prevented you from spinning down real, human blood? Because measuring her test subjects’ hormone levels would have made this project so much easier.
She sighed and tapped her fingers on the black soapstone table in the Whit as she reviewed the evidence from the experiment so far. According to their before-and-after lists, Lauren showed no more interest in Kris than she did in Alex. Both were “nice.” Alex even got an upgrade to “funny,” whereas Kris was holding steady at “cute.”
Granted, they’d participated in only two experiments—the baseline and the agave worms—but at this stage Addie had hoped for a flicker of admiration for Kris’s daring, some sort of indication that Lauren’s PEA levels were spiking in his presence.
It took Tess less than twenty-four hours to fall for Ed, though, to be fair, adrenaline was already coursing through her body from the sprained ankle and the storm.
If only Addie’d had the administration’s permission to use a really daring activity like skydiving or extreme skiing. That would totally pump out the norepinephrine, with its love-like sweaty palms and beating heart. But there were those stupid school rules again. Also, money.
“Staring slack-jawed at the spreadsheets never won Crick and Watson a Nobel Prize,” Dex said, flipping on the lab faucet with his elbow and washing his hands of salt water.
“True. Their brainstorming was done on paper napkins.” Addie closed the laptop with its disappointing results. No doubt, Dex had already interpreted the data as more proof of defeat.
He flipped off the faucet and snatched a brown paper towel. “Don’t look so glum. Nikolai Tesla was considered a failure for most of his career and he was brilliant.” He tossed the towel in the trash. “Like you.”
What was that supposed to mean? “I haven’t failed. I just need more time to institute an instant attraction.”
Dex smirked. “I love it when you contradict yourself in one sentence. If you need more time to create an instant attraction, then you are definitely in trouble.”
She fumed. Her cranium could have exploded, she was so frustrated with his constant negativity. He was such a Debbie Downer.
“Instead of bad-mouthing the project, why don’t you be useful and give me some suggestions?”
“Okay, here’s an idea. Let’s call this project what it is—dead in the water—and use my crabs. There’s still time to switch. I’m sure the Athenian Committee will understand when you explain that, when it came to the brain, unfortunately you got in over your head.” He bent over, killing himself with laughter.
Addie hopped up so fast she almost knocked over the stool. “That’s it, Dex. You are the Worst. Lab. Partner. Ever.”
“Awww.” He stuck out his lower lip. “Is someone having a bad day?”
She hated when he talked to her in a baby voice and came thisclose to actually slapping his smug pink face when her phone binged.
Ed.
All set up in the gym. Email + fax sent. Good thing I’m already in college ’cause this could get me kicked out, big ti
me.
Right. She took two deep breaths to redirect the oxygen. Priorities, Addie, she reminded herself silently. Concentrate on what’s important.
Thank you soooo much!!!!! she texted back. And it was true. She couldn’t have planned this without him.
You ready?
Yes! Thx. On my way.
Hope this works, Ed texted back. I’m out of ideas.
She nodded to the screen on her phone.
Me 2.
The Academy’s legendary rock wall took up one whole side of the gym. At forty-six feet high and a hundred feet wide, with a twenty-foot overhang that required climbers to crawl upside down, to call it formidable would be an understatement. It had been designed by Günter Hammelsmith, a Swiss mountaineer and Academy alum who, unfortunately, plunged to an early death while attempting to paraglide off Mount Everest to the Indian Ocean.
It was rumored that Günter had been born genetically devoid of fear, which was obvious to anyone who had attempted to climb the wall. That’s why the Academy students had nicknamed it The Beast.
And today it was Experiment #3.
Lauren and Kris were already strapped into their harnesses and tying on their shoes when Addie rushed into the gym, breathless. She’d made the mistake of swinging through the cafeteria to grab some lunch, only to realize she’d forgotten her ID in the lab, where she learned from Dr. Brooks that Dexter had already left for the gym. Which meant she was late and hungry.
“How nice of you to put in an appearance,” Dex said, not looking up from his computer, where he was inputting baseline information.
She ignored him and went over to Lauren and Kris to offer a hand with the harnesses.
“These are the ugliest things ever,” Lauren whined. “They’re like leather diapers.”
“You ever climb a rock wall before?” Kris asked, hopping up and down to test his shoes.
She gave her shoelace a particularly violent tug. “No. You?”
“Uh-huh. And I think you’ll appreciate the support when your feet fly off the top rocks. Thirty-five feet is a long way down.”
This Is My Brain on Boys Page 13