This Is My Brain on Boys

by Sarah Strohmeyer

  “I dunno. The T-shirt might just do it for me.”

  They entered the quiet yard dotted with small white tables where students sat, chatting earnestly. Kris navigated the paths zigzagging through the worn grass with ease. “I had a friend who went here,” he explained. “We used to visit a lot.”

  “After the pizza?”

  He laughed. “Sometimes before the pizza. We were that reckless.”

  Though that wasn’t really very reckless, so he had to be joking.

  Addie said, “Hah! Good one.”

  That only made Kris chuckle again. They passed a large bronze illuminated statue that was decorated haphazardly with ribbons and flowers.

  “What a fraud,” Kris said. “I’m surprised they don’t take it down.”

  Addie read the inscription on the base:

  JOHN HARVARD

  FOUNDER

  1638

  Kris ran his sneaker against the base. “The Statue of Three Lies, they call this monstrosity.”

  “Why?” Addie asked, staring up at the noble visage. “He’s the founder of Harvard. It makes sense to have a memorial to him.”

  “First of all, it’s the likeness of a nineteenth-century Harvard student, not of the seventeenth-century clergyman named John Harvard,” Kris explained. “Also, John Harvard was neither the first president nor founder of this esteemed institution but merely some guy who chipped in seven hundred and eighty pounds, barely enough to buy a couple of PS4s. Finally, the date? Fail! The school was founded two years earlier.”

  “Why are you doing that?”

  Kris lifted his foot, which he’d been running along the base of the statue. “For good luck. That’s the tradition.”

  “I don’t believe in luck.”

  “You should. John Harvard was a nobody and he ended up with a famous statue and the most prestigious school in the world named after him. How lucky is that?”

  “Fortunate, perhaps. Not lucky. But we’re wasting valuable time. Where’s Hollis?”

  Hollis turned out to be right around the corner. Now the question was how to get inside, since they didn’t have a key card.

  “It’s after eleven,” Kris said. “There might be a curfew for summer students like at the Academy. If we wait, someone is bound to come out and we can go in.”

  Sure enough, a girl opened the door, took one look at Addie in her expensive, brand-new Newbury Street dress, and opened it wider.

  “Thanks,” Addie said. “We’re here for a party and didn’t know how to get in. We buzzed but I guess they didn’t hear us.”

  “I figured,” the girl said, smiling. “There are parties all over campus tonight.”

  “So much for security,” Kris said, taking the stairs two at a time.

  Addie froze at the bottom step, covering her mouth. Kris turned. “What’s wrong?”

  “I did it,” she said, simultaneously shocked and delighted. “I lied! And it was the easiest thing in the world!”

  Kris gave her a thumbs-up. “Next you’ll be laughing at my jokes. Come on.”

  They reached the third floor, their footsteps creaking down the ancient hall’s wooden floors until they found 308. Kris placed his ear against the door. “Voices. Male and female.”

  “Talking, or . . . ?” Addie asked.

  He shrugged. “Only one way to find out.” He rapped quietly three times.

  “Who is it?” someone asked in a distinct accent.

  Kris answered him in Mandarin, and after a moment’s hesitation, the door opened a crack to reveal a boy in a multi-striped shirt and glasses.

  “Yes?”

  “We’re friends of Mindy’s,” Kris said first in English and then in Mandarin.

  The boy pushed up his glasses. “Who?”

  “Mindy’s not her real name, remember?” Addie tried to peer inside the room, which was pitch black aside from a glowing computer.

  “I don’t know a Mindy,” the boy reiterated.

  Kris tried a different approach. “She’s in a student exchange program, staying at Academy 355. They’re worried about her because she left without telling anyone where she was going.”

  The boy seemed like he was about to again deny any knowledge of such a person when a small voice peeped from the back of the room. “I’m here. It’s okay. I know them.”

  David said something to her in Mandarin.

  Kris put his mouth to Addie’s ear. “He told her to stay back. That he would take care of it. Looks like she’s not going without a fight.”

  “Then he wants her to stay?” Hmm. This was a new and perhaps troublesome twist in their relationship.

  “Can we just talk to her?” Kris asked David in Mandarin. They spoke further, until David relented and let them in.

  He switched on the light and closed the door. There was Mindy sitting with her hands folded at the end of his bed, her facial expression unreadable.

  “I’m okay,” Mindy said. “David and I talked and I’m fine.”

  “So, you’re not breaking up?” Addie asked.

  David said, “You told them about us?”

  “Fiona did.”

  This wasn’t exactly true, but Addie wasn’t going to call her on it.

  David plopped down next to Mindy, taking her hands in his and speaking in soothing tones. As a neuroscientist, Addie was confused. He seemed to regret causing her distress. He showed remorse and affection by holding her hands. These were not the standard behavioral patterns displayed by a person who wasn’t in love.

  Kris said gently, “You have to go back with us, Mindy. Your plane leaves tomorrow morning. Everyone is wicked worried.”

  She nodded, tears welling in her eyes, and leaned against David, who patted her silky dark hair and in English said, “This is what I didn’t want to happen. I broke it off with Mindy . . . because I knew that when we got back home, things would only be worse for her.”

  “Why?” Kris and Addie asked in unison.

  “It’s not just Mindy’s parents who don’t want us to be in a relationship. Mine, too. My father had girlfriends in school and didn’t thrive academically. My mother thinks I’ll be the same.”

  Mindy smiled ruefully. “He studies harder than anyone. From six in the morning until eleven at night.”

  “They found out from my little brother that Mindy and I were planning to see each other here and they called me—they were . . . angry,” David continued. “They had spoken to her parents and . . .” He brought his lips to Mindy’s hair. “I broke it off so she wouldn’t get in trouble. If I hadn’t, things would have been bad when she got home.”

  “Oh!” Addie smacked her chest, deeply moved. “That is the most touching story ever. It just shows how much you love her. That’s one of the hallmarks of shifting to the endorphin stage of a relationship . . . sacrifice of one’s pleasure for another’s safety and/or comfort. You hardly ever find that with norepinephrine or even dopamine.”

  David said something to Mindy in Mandarin and they both giggled.

  “He wonders if you’re, um, under the influence of something,” Kris translated with a grin.

  “Influence of intense research, tell them,” Addie said, indignant.

  “Yeah, I don’t think this is the time.” Kris went to the door. “We’ll give you guys a few minutes to say good-bye, but you have to come with us tonight. Like David said, it will only make more trouble if you stay.”

  She nodded. “At least I know he still loves me.”

  “And think of this,” Addie said. “Soon you’ll be free and clear adults—because school doesn’t last forever. Unfortunately.”

  “Isn’t there anything you can do for her?” Kris asked as they slowly descended the stairs.

  “Not unless she wants to end their relationship, in which case we’re back to the same advice I gave her in Tess’s room. Don’t see him for the prescribed period. I don’t think that system applies here, though.”

  “I feel really bad for them. They looked so pathetic and trappe
d.” Kris pushed open the front door. “Why do parents do that to their kids?”

  “It’s a scary world out there. They’re just doing what they think is best. They want to guarantee that their kids will be okay.”

  “Hmm.” Kris stepped outside. “Do you think it works?”

  “I think they have no idea what they’re up against. If they knew what I know about the potent effects of neuro-hormones on the adolescent brain, they would throw their children behind bars until the age of twenty-five.” Addie followed him down to the yard. “Either that or wave the white flag and surrender.”

  Kris shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against a lamppost as they waited for Mindy. “So, that explains Romeo and Juliet.”

  “Classic example. Romeo and Juliet meet in a high-risk setting. Their families are sworn enemies, yet he crashes the party, so right there the PEA is firing the epinephrine like mad.”

  “The what?”

  “I’ll explain later.” She didn’t want to give away too much before Kris had completed his own experiment. “They continue to engage in high-risk behavior that kicks their amygdalae into overdrive. A street fight. A battle with the parents. A ditched engagement. A one-night stand.”

  Kris grinned. “Not that risky.”

  “How about a secret marriage under penalty of death?”

  “Okay. Got me there.”

  Addie wished she could have studied the real Romeo and Juliet in the flesh. Too bad they didn’t cryogenically store blood samples in Verona back in the day. Because how awesome would it be to centrifuge their neurohormone levels, eh?

  “The bottom line is that Juliet alone could be a public service announcement for what happens to a brain on boys,” Addie said. “Poison? Dagger? Two dead? Any questions?”

  Kris let out a loud laugh.

  “Hey, you!” A girl stepped out of the shadows, weaving slightly and swinging a red bag. She was rail thin, with long legs and a short black dress. Her eyes were rimmed thickly in kohl. Streaks of crimson glowed on her otherwise straight black hair.

  Addie let out a gasp.

  Kris went, “Oh, crap.”

  “Condor! You came to the party after all!”

  “Stay here,” Kris said. “I’m going to talk to her. I’ll be right back.”

  Kara. The girl who’d made her life hell.

  Oh, and, how could she forget? Kris’s girlfiend.

  Kara fell into Kris’s arms, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered something in her ear, stroking her back.

  Addie was suddenly smacked by waves of anger and sadness, followed by a big glob of jealousy. Why had she let down her guard when she knew he had a girlfriend? After all the research she’d done, the case studies she’d read, the abstracts she’d collected, not to mention her own testing, somehow Addie Emerson had let herself become vulnerable to the same brain chemicals that had done in Juliet!

  And like Juliet, in a matter of days, her own brain had reprogrammed itself to respond eagerly to his touch, his smell, even the mere sight of him. She would have to go through withdrawal and wait out the eleven weeks, two days, and three hours until she was back to normal.

  If that was even possible.

  She pulled out her phone and texted Ed.

  Outside Hollis. Found Mindy. Kara is here and wasted. Come quick!

  A half second later: On my way!

  The door to Hollis opened and Mindy appeared. Under the light swarming with summer bugs, she looked so unstable that Addie rushed to help her.

  “It’s okay,” Addie said, wrapping Mindy in a big hug. “Everything will be okay.”

  Mindy coughed back huge gulping sobs. “I love him, Addie. I love him.”

  No such thing as love, she thought bitterly. At least, not for me. Turning her back to the reunited boyfriend and girlfriend, she said, “Come on, Mindy. Let’s go.”

  “But what about . . .”

  “Don’t worry about him.” Addie cast one last glance at Kris, who was still in Kara’s clutches. “He’s with someone else.”

  “Addie, wait!” Kris shouted, pushing Kara off. “I’m coming with you.”

  She kept on walking. Forward, she told herself. Do. Not. Look. Back.

  Then she heard Kara’s loud, gleeful scream. “Wow. Is that Addie Emerson?” she cackled. “Is that who you’ve been putting me off for, Condor? Her?”

  Addie winced and squeezed Mindy’s hand.

  “What’s she talking about?” Mindy said. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I.”

  Footsteps came up from behind, stilettos on sidewalk, followed by heavier pounding.

  “Come on, Kara,” Kris pleaded. “Leave her alone.”

  Too late. Kara intercepted them and flung out her arms for a full body block. “Stop!” She checked Addie out from head to toe. “Got a makeover, did you? Adorable.”

  Addie let go of Mindy and shifted her eyes to Kris, who was mouthing, “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t like you,” Addie said, squaring her shoulders. “You are cruel and you reek of ethanol.”

  Kara burst out laughing. “Aren’t you precious? Ethanol. Say, Miss Valedictorian, you still decapitating frogs?”

  Addie blinked.

  “No?” Kara pouted. “Twisting off the heads of gerbils, then?”

  Kris gripped Kara’s shoulder tightly. “That’s enough.”

  She swiveled toward him tipsily. “Since when do you stick up for Addie Emerson?”

  “Don’t,” Kris said, the muscles in his jaw flexing. “Look, let me take you home. You’ve had too much to drink and you don’t know what you’re saying.”

  She smacked at his hand. “Let go of me. You’re not my boss. You don’t tell me what to do.”

  Addie tensed.

  “Please,” Kris whispered. “Just leave it.”

  “Oh, don’t act like you’re so innocent, Condor.” She rotated to Addie. “After all, we never would have gone down to the lab if it hadn’t been for you. Brilliant idea, freeing all the animals.”

  Addie closed her eyes and wished she were back at school without any of them.

  Kara touched her lips, pretending she’d made a faux pas. “Uh-oh. Did I let the cat out of the bag? I mean that metaphorically. Not the ones you dissect.’”

  “That’s it!” Kris yanked her so hard she stumbled.

  “Hey,” Kara protested. “You’ll ruin my jacket.”

  Addie pushed Mindy through a cluster of students who’d come to check out the trouble.

  She didn’t care if Kris didn’t have a ride back. She didn’t care if he was rounded up by Harvard security and sent to jail. She didn’t care if Foy banned him from campus forever.

  Good. Freaking. Riddance.

  So much for trusting someone and letting go. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  “Who was she?” Mindy asked as they reached the gates where Ed was parked with the flashers blinking.

  “Who?” Addie asked, opening the door.

  Mindy slid into the backseat. “That drunk girl.”

  “Oh, I have no idea.” Addie got in the front and closed the door. “I’ve never seen her before in my life. She’s no one, I guess.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  The first Academy shuttle ran late on Sundays, leaving the Marblehead bus stop at ten a.m., arriving at the security gate at the Academy 355 causeway twenty minutes later. Aside from a few employees on that already-hot Sunday morning, one sheepish boy was slouched in the back, arms folded, head rested against the window, fast asleep.

  “Do you have your ID?”

  Kris cocked open one eye to see a dark-green-suited security guard scrutinizing him with suspicion.

  “Oh, yeah, sure.” He yawned and reached in his jeans pocket to produce the ID he’d been given almost a week before, when he’d hopped a ride with Ed and Tess and that strange girl, Addie Emerson. Eons ago, it seemed.

  The guard frowned and handed it back to him. “This is
temporary. It expired yesterday.”

  Now what was he going to do? He really needed to get back to his dorm. Not that he had any illusions of staying. If Foy hadn’t already banned him from campus, he would once he had a chance to read Dexter’s email.

  “Can’t you just let me get my things?” Kris said. “I’m leaving today.”

  The unsmiling guard whipped out a radio and called his office with as much urgency as if he’d caught a wanted terrorist trying to sneak into school. After a clipped discussion, he said, “There’s a note for you to go to Administration. It’s in Chisolm Hall, which is on the other side of the quad—”

  “I know where it is.” Kris got up and headed out to the quad.

  A pack of students ran by, their sneakered feet pounding the road in rhythmic unison. They took one look at his rumpled shirt and unshaven face and laughed.

  “Hard night?” asked one, chortling.

  The proverbial Walk of Shame.

  Not that he, technically, had anything to be ashamed about, aside from what he had done months before to Addie and the Whit, for which he would never, ever forgive himself.

  He kept replaying that disastrous confrontation from the night before, the confusion, then disbelief, then shock on Addie’s face, when she realized he was still with Kara. He could almost feel her disappointment like it was his, the heartbreaking, crushing shame that she’d ever let herself have anything to do with a creep like him.

  And she was right. It was all his fault. He was the person who’d wronged her the most. How was that even possible?

  “Oh, stop moping, Condor,” Kara had said last night as he sulked on the couch of her parents’ lavishly appointed Back Bay apartment. “Don’t you get it? That’s the thing about people like her. They don’t care. They don’t have feelings.”

  He could have socked her then. If she’d been Mack—who certainly would have said something as obnoxious—he would have. But he just couldn’t hit a girl. And he refused to let her drag him down further into the pit of moral decay by daring him to violate his one remaining shred of decency.

  “Addie does have feelings. She’s amazing. She’s better. Smarter. Her brain . . .”

  “Okay, okay. I get it. You have a thing for Addie Emerson,” Kara interrupted. “You just should have told me instead of leading me on.”