“I happen to have a perfectly legitimate reason for being furious,” he said. “Do you remember yesterday when I showed Mr. Foy my crabs?”
“How could I not?”
He waved an accusatory finger, which, Addie thought, had been getting quite a lot of action lately with all his nagging. “That is why you did what you did.”
“What did I do?”
“You know.”
“Again, I don’t.” Honestly, this was beginning to resemble a seventeenth-century witch inquisition. “Would you just tell me?”
Dexter’s chest heaved, prompting a spasm of coughing. “Look at my tank.”
She peered into the tank. Same sand and rocks and a little island. Same two caves. “So?”
“Do you see any crabs?”
“No. But you keep them in the other tank, the darkened one.”
He flicked on the light above the other tank. “See anything here?”
It, too, showed no signs of life. “No.”
“Exactly.” He switched off the light. “That’s because you took them!”
“I didn’t!”
“You did. You stole them because you were jealous! You’d do anything to prevent my project from being submitted to the awards committee. Admit it!”
“I’ll admit no such thing. What’s wrong with you? We’ve been lab partners since ninth grade. You know I wouldn’t sabotage your work.” Though that wasn’t to say freeing the crabs hadn’t also crossed her mind. “It’s unethical!”
He chewed on his lower lip, thinking. “An alternative theory: under the influence of Kris Condos, you’ve had a sudden awakening to the plight of test animals, so you snuck in here last night, put the crabs in a bucket, and carried them to the ocean. Then, to give me a dose of my own medicine, you rewired the caves.”
“Dexter, the electricity must have damaged more than your dendritic nerve endings. When I tell you I had no part in this crab-napping, you know it’s true—it’s physically impossible for me to lie. As for influenced by Kris? Don’t forget, I was the one who bore the brunt of his attack last spring. So it’s highly unlikely I would come around a full one-eighty to his way of thinking.”
“Yeah . . .” More lip chewing. “Therefore, the only other person who would have had the means—a universal key card—and the motive—his proven fanatical obsession with saving lab animals—along with a history of reprobate behavior is . . . Kris Condos.”
As soon as he said it, Addie knew he was right. Not that she was about to let on. “Get over it. Kris doesn’t care about your crabs. He’s learned his lesson.” Though she wished she sounded more confident.
“Really? Then when I reached into the supply tank this morning, why did I get a”—tears welled in his eyes as he displayed his right hand—“shock!”
“Oh, Dexter! Let me see.” Addie clasped his hand in hers. It was a normal temperature and coloring, aside from having a tad more color than its usual fish-belly white. “Is it painful?”
“Stings slightly. More like . . . a tingle.” He sniffed.
“Do you want me to take you to the infirmary?”
“No, I’ll tough it out, thank you.” He removed his hand and held it, limp-wristed. “That’s why I was examining the wiring. I can’t detect his method. If it hadn’t been for the circuit breaker switching, I could be . . . dead!”
That was unlikely, since the voltage to the cave was much lower than the average dog fence. But she was intrigued.
Stooping down, she inspected the wire for damage and found it intact. Dexter was correct in that the power couldn’t have been altered at the source. A resistor must have been added, and a fairly significant one at that, considering water’s conductive properties.
“And you’re positive the saboteur was Kris.”
“He was in the lab yesterday when I was demonstrating my method, and I don’t know if you noticed, but he wasn’t exactly happy.”
She’d noticed.
“Next day, crabs gone.” He shook his head as if gravely disappointed. “I had hoped he’d reformed, and it seemed like he was making amends working for Buildings and Grounds and, as you know, agreeing to the experiment.” He sighed deeply. “I hate to do what I have to do.”
Her stomach seized. “What are you going to do?”
“Tell Dr. Brooks and Headmaster Foy, of course.” He cocked his head in false sympathy. “I’m sorry, Addie, but this is a safety issue and your Kris is beyond repair. He’s a danger to society and maybe even . . .” Dex touched her lightly. “You.”
No, no, no. This was the worst possible turn of events! She squeezed her temples with both hands, trying to block out the inevitable. Foy would receive Dexter’s report and expel Kris without question. He’d be sent off to military school, where he’d be lost to her forever.
And last night had been so magical, too. So much promise.
There was no other option except pleading for mercy. “Can’t you not tell Foy? You know Kris is already on academic probation. He’ll be gone by tomorrow.”
He responded with a smirk of superior self-satisfaction. “Hate to say I told you so, but . . . I told you so. Didn’t I warn you about letting yourself get involved? This is what happens.”
Ergh. Dexter was an insufferable, relentless, giant douche, she thought, fists forming. How she had ever admired him for being brilliant was a mystery.
Her phone pinged. Ed again.
Got your message. Want to meet at the docks?
She replied. Now? I’m kind of in the middle of something.
T just left for Boston. Better do this before she gets back.
There was valid logic to that statement. Okay, thanks.
After this, we’ll be even?
Yes.
Good. Because with this last one, I’m def skating on thin ice.
It was absurd of Ed to say he was on thin ice when temps were climbing into the low nineties, even on the open water. The only ice was in the red cooler at the back of the boat, which, in Addie’s opinion, he drove way too fast, cranking the engine to maximum speed and bouncing on the waves so hard she had to hold on to a railing to keep from being catapulted into the water.
She shielded her eyes from the blazing sun to make out Owl Island, a barren outcropping of rock, sand, and scrub oak on the horizon.
“Awesome day. Not a cloud in the sky,” Ed shouted above the engine’s roar.
Addie clutched her hat—an absolute necessity in thinning ozone. “One consistency of weather is that it changes!”
They approached the first buoy marking shallower waters, and Ed cut the engine to a chug. Once upon a time, probably not that long ago in evolutionary terms, Owl Island had been connected to the Academy’s peninsula. Then the glaciers melted, and water rushed in and separated the two land masses.
But they were still connected in the minds of the Academy trustees, who retained ownership of the island despite its uselessness—aside from on the occasional field trips or bird-watching outings, as the island boasted several species of nesting terns—and not a single owl.
Addie supposed that the island got its name because it was shaped like a pair of owl eyes with deep craters at each end now filled with fresh water. More glacial scarring.
They bobbed slowly as they got closer to shore. Out here, away from other traffic, the sea smelled salty fresh. Gentle waves lapped on the beach, where clusters of small white terns scurried in flocks, their black stick legs moving in the same coordinated unison as schools of tuna.
It was almost enough to take her mind off Dexter and what he was doing right now—most likely sitting in Foy’s office signing Kris’s death warrant.
“I’m dropping anchor here. The tide’s going out and I don’t want to get stranded.” Ed killed the engine, went to the rear of the boat, and depressed the automatic winch. The anchor landed in the soft sand with an audible thud.
There was electronic equipment to remove, including a camera and wires that were especially vulnerable to the corrosiv
e impact of salt water. Ed told her not to worry, he was one step ahead of her, which was an underestimation, as he was already waist high in the water and carrying the equipment in a dry bag.
She jumped in and followed behind, dragging the floating cooler of bottled fresh water. Tiny translucent jellyfish undulated around her waist. She made a mental note to bring vinegar to treat their stings.
“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.
EIGHTEEN
“Dude, 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. Yo
u 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.
NINETEEN
“It’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.
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