by Andrea Ring
Chapter Sixteen
The Planarian Institute is 6.3 miles from my house, which would make a great walk during the summer. But since school’s in session and I only have a few hours after school every day to visit (and those pesky bad guys are probably tailing me), my Explorer is finally going to put on some mileage.
Run by a husband-and-wife team of researchers, Drs. Kate and Kenneth Mullen, the institute was founded only three years ago to study brain cell regeneration. They haven’t made any great discoveries yet—at least, none that are published—but I’ve chosen them for three reasons. One, they are close to my house. This wouldn’t be a sufficient reason in and of itself, but it’s convenient. Two, as husband and wife, they must talk about their research all the time. They must live and breathe it. And they have a perfect sounding board at the end of the day, someone who knows everything they know and can understand what’s going on. I like that idea. I don’t have that with Tessa, exactly, and that’s okay, but whomever I reveal myself to is going to question my abilities. They’ll want to talk about it. And I don’t want them to talk about it with outsiders. In choosing a married couple, I think I have a greater chance that they’ll keep the secret between themselves.
My third reason for choosing them is that they both perform two surgeries a month at Children’s Hospital of Orange County for free. They heal children while still doing research—and that’s exactly what I want to do, the life I want to lead. They seem to be good people.
Of course, I don’t know them at all, and I have to remember that as I pull into their parking lot and turn off my ignition. I have to approach this without any preconceived idea about their character, otherwise I could be duped. And maybe dead.
I lean my forehead on the steering wheel and take a few deep breaths. I can do this.
I exit the car, lock it, and walk to the doors of the Planarian Institute.
***
A shiver runs down my spine as the door closes behind me. It’s cold enough in here that I automatically regulate my body temperature to keep my teeth from chattering.
“May I help you?”
A pretty, petite brunette in a lab coat looks up at me as I enter, a full coffee pot in one hand, mug in the other. She has an eyebrow ring, which is a little weird but kind of cool. I immediately recognize her picture from the institute’s website as Dr. Kate, and I’m suddenly sweating. I didn’t expect her to be the one to greet me.
“Uh, hi. I’m Thomas Van Zandt.” I stick out my hand, plaster a smile on my lips, and she laughs, waving the coffee pot.
“Just a sec. Let me put this down.” She pours her mug full of coffee and replaces the pot. We shake. “I’m Kate Mullen.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Kate, uh, Dr. Mullen.”
“What can I do for you?”
I take a deep breath. “I was wondering if you could use an intern. I’m interested in regenerative research, and I’d like to offer my services.”
I can see her fighting a smile as she sips her coffee. “Your services,” she says. “How old are you, Thomas?”
I stand up straight. “Sixteen, ma’am. But I have a photographic memory and have been studying the nervous system my entire life. I’m up to speed on the latest research.”
She cocks a hip against the coffee bar counter and considers me. “Name three marine animals that regenerate.”
“The starfish, the sea cucumber, and the zebra fish,” I say.
“Too easy,” she says. “Who’s your favorite researcher in the field and why?”
“I came here for a reason,” I say, “but I know you don’t want me to say you and your husband. Actually, James Thomson ranks pretty high in my book. I know he’s considered the stem cell pioneer, and he seems an easy answer, but I admire his approach. He advocates more research on the body in general, rather than just a focus on stem cells, and I agree. The body as a whole has the answer. Stem cells alone won’t cut it.”
“Okay,” she says, nodding her head. “What factors do we need to be studying to unravel the mystery of regeneration?”
“Stem cells, of course. DNA, because it dictates the stem cell’s ability to grow into any cell. Protein…” I almost say Protein T, but I catch myself. “I believe a protein is necessary to activate the stem cells.”
Dr. Kate squints. “Protein, singular?”
“I believe so, yes. One protein is all it would take.”
She stares into her mug for a few moments. “Are you sick, Thomas?”
Wow. Off the mark and right on target. I decide, just like that, to trust her.
I take a small spiral-bound notebook and pen out of my back pocket. I flip to a clean page and write down my name and the amino acid sequence of Protein T. I rip off the page and hand it to her.
“What’s this?”
“The sequence of the protein. Do you have the…is your facility capable of duplicating this?”
“Yes,” she says skeptically.
I nod. “I’m kind of on a deadline here. I’ll be back in three days.” I turn to the door.
“Wait.”
I turn back.
“You’re sixteen years old, you waltz in here offering your services, then you write an amino acid sequence for a, a, a protein that’s supposed to activate a stem cell…and then you leave?”
“I’m trusting you,” I say softly. “I am trusting you with knowledge that people would chain me in a lab for. My girlfriend said I should try to meet you on neutral ground, get to know you, feel out what kind of people you and your husband are before I reveal myself. But honestly, that’s not me. Would you feel better if I’d stalked you and struck up a conversation at the coffee house? I don’t have time for that. I need help and I need it now.”
“What exactly do you need help with?” she asks.
“I’m a freak, Dr. Mullen,” I say. “I can produce that protein in my brain. I can regenerate any part of my body.”
Dr. Kate lowers the mug from her lips. She opens her mouth, but no words come out.
“Study it,” I say, pointing to the paper in her hand. “You probably won’t be able to produce it in three days, but I think you’ll see the possibilities by then. I’ll be back.”
And I leave.
Chapter Seventeen
As I pull in my driveway, Tessa rushes out the front door and yanks my car door open.
“Well?”
I stand up and close the door slowly. “It’s a done deal.”
Tessa raises her eyebrows but doesn’t speak.
“I met Dr. Kate, I trusted her, I told her. Done deal.”
“Did she believe you?”
I think about the question as we walk into the house and enter the kitchen. I pour myself some orange juice while Tessa boosts herself up on the counter, legs swinging.
“Yep.”
Tessa frowns. “Yep? That’s it? She believed you just like that? Did you have to demonstrate?”
I sip my juice, and I immediately feel better.
“We didn’t get that far. I just gave her something to think about.”
“So what did she say?”
I cock my head. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Tessa shrieks. “Then how do you know she believed you?”
I shrug. “I just do.”
Tessa sighs. “You didn’t need my lessons at all, did you?”
I put my empty cup in the sink and my hands on Tessa’s thighs. “Maybe I didn’t exactly use them, but I definitely needed them.” I kiss her, and she sighs into the kiss.
I pull back and give her one more peck on the nose. “So’s my dad home yet?”
Tessa nods. “On the computer. He said he and Mom are going out to dinner.”
The phone rings, and I can hear Dad answer it.
“So you want to order pizza?” I ask her.
“Sure. Bacon and extra cheese?”
I take my cell phone out of my pocket when Dad rushes in. He scoops up his keys up off the counter.
“I’m meetin
g Erica,” he says on his way out. “Don’t wait up.” And he slams the door shut behind him.
“What was that about?” Tessa asks, jumping down from her perch.
“No idea.”
I order pizza and Tessa lays her head in my lap on the couch while we wait for it.
I massage her scalp. “You feeling any better today?” I ask her.
“I guess,” she says. “Knowing what my dad did…on one hand, it’s easier to swallow the divorce, because Mom’s doing the right thing and Dad’s such an asshole. But on the other hand? I had no idea, Thomas. No clue. Dad’s been unfaithful for years, and I never suspected. I loved him.” Tessa sniffs as she starts to cry.
“You still love him, Tessa,” I say. “That hasn’t changed.”
“That’s what hurts so much,” she says. “Our whole life has been a lie.”
“I thought the same thing when I found out Dad has the same abilities as me. It felt like such a betrayal, him not telling me. But Dr. Rumson told me that good parents always try to spare their kids the nasty details.”
Tessa snorts. “So it’s a sign of good parenting, not betrayal?”
I smile. “I didn’t buy it, either. I mean, I’d do the same thing with my own kids, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
“You’ve never gotten over it,” she says. “Ten years, and you still hold it against your dad.”
“Only because he continues to lie and manipulate me. If that had been the only lie, I think I’d be over it by now.”
“But he has his reasons. I believe your dad is trying to do the right thing.”
“I believe the same thing about your mom.”
The doorbell rings and our pizza arrives. We eat, and then Tessa goes home to finish homework. I fall asleep on the couch watching a movie and wake when I hear Dad come home a couple of hours later.
I meet him in the kitchen, where he’s emptying his pockets on the counter.
“Everything okay?” I ask him. “You left in a hurry.”
He scrubs a hand across his face. “Ron left.”
“Good riddance,” I say.
“It’s worse than that. He’s disappeared. He emptied the bank accounts. Even took the pieces of art they owned that were worth anything.”
I gape at him. “What?”
“Their house is in foreclosure. He hasn’t paid the mortgage in four months. Erica has about three weeks to pay it.”
“Write them a check,” I say.
He sighs. “I tried. She won’t take it. She refuses to let me rescue her.”
“So do it anyway.”
“I can’t!” he yells. “I have to respect her wishes. I can’t lose her, Thomas. I love her. I have to let her do it her way.”
“So marry her. You won’t need two houses anyway. They can move in here.” My heart thumps hard in my chest as I think about Tessa living here, with me.
“I asked her. She won’t marry me until her finances are settled. She’s…she’s thinking of moving in with her parents.”
“But they live in Arizona!”
Dad just nods.
I storm off to bed. Tessa moving to another state in unacceptable. I can’t…I just can’t let that happen.
Chapter Eighteen
Tessa texts me early in the morning that she’s staying home from school. I understand, but I hate school without her. It’s mindless and pointless and sucks.
Finally, my last class of the day, Pre-Calculus, arrives. It’s probably my favorite, because the teacher’s so self-absorbed he just stands and lectures. Mr. Bertram doesn’t even ask questions. Which means I can zone out and think of other things.
His lecture ends twenty minutes early, and he allows us to start on our homework. I finish in about two minutes and pull the latest Jim Butcher novel out of my backpack.
“Thomas, you’re supposed to use this time for your homework, not for pleasure reading,” Mr. Bertram says, calling me out in front of the entire class. I fight not to scowl.
“I already finished,” I say, going back to my book.
“Let me see it.”
I sigh and close the book. I pull the homework out of my backpack and walk to his desk. I thrust the paper in front of his nose.
He examines it longer than I spent doing it. He finally hands it back.
“There’s another issue I want to discuss,” he says. He rummages through the pile of papers on his desk until he finds what he’s looking for. “I’m turning this into the principal.”
I take the paper from him. It’s Tessa’s homework from last Friday. “Why?”
“It’s obviously not her work. It’s yours.”
“No,” I say, handing it back to him. “Tessa does her own work. It’s hers.”
“Tessa has never done this well on a homework assignment.”
“So what?” I say. “You don’t believe you’re the kind of teacher who can help a student improve?”
Mr. Bertram narrows his eyes at me. “You gave her the answers.”
“Or maybe you don’t think Tessa’s smart enough. Is that it?”
“Tessa’s intelligence is not at issue here. Her integrity is.”
“Exactly!” I say, leaning into his personal space. “Tessa is the most upstanding person I know. Don’t you dare impugn her honor in front of me.”
“Then explain her answers!” Mr. Bertram hisses at me.
I stand up straight. “I don’t have to. She got an A on the last test. She knows this stuff. She doesn’t need to cheat.”
The class has gone silent. The ever-present murmur of whispered voices is gone, and I know everyone’s watching us.
“And how do you know she got an A? Maybe you helped her with that, too.”
I clench my jaw. “Tessa’s grades have improved because we study together. You’re right—without me, she’d still be getting C’s, because your teaching is so abysmal. I have never done her math homework, never helped her cheat, and I couldn’t if I wanted to—Tessa is just that honest. I don’t need to be here. You and I both know that. I can run circles around you. Maybe that’s why you’re accusing us of cheating.”
Veins throb in Mr. Bertram’s neck as he stares at me. “Go to the principal’s office now! I will not take such disrespect in my classroom.”
I laugh. “But you’re allowed to disrespect me? Fuck you.”
And I grab my backpack and head out the door, the whole class gaping after me.
***
I drive straight to Dr. Rumson’s office. He’s eating a salad at his desk and checking email.
I flop in a chair and sigh.
“Bad day?” he says around a piece of lettuce.
“I quit school.”
He raises an eyebrow at me.
“It’s bullsh…uh, bull. I don’t learn anything. What’s the point?”
“Exactly,” he says. “You haven’t needed to be in a classroom for years. So why were you?”
I shrug. “Nothing better to do.”
“Then I’d say it’s the right move if you have something better to do with your time.”
“I go back to the Planarian Institute in two days. I’ll be working there from then on.”
“Oh, so they accepted you, then?”
I squirm in my chair. “It’s not a done deal, but I’m pretty sure.”
“And do you have a Plan B?”
My Plan B is not a second option—it’s more of an option I need to make happen at the same time as Plan A.
I need to make money for Tessa and Erica. Big money. And I know I can do that if I offer to heal the sick. I haven’t worked out all the details yet, but if the Planarian Institute won’t work with me, I’ll have plenty of time to figure it out.
“I’ll just get a job,” I say.
Dr. Rumson chuckles. “That’s an excellent idea.”
“You think so?”
“Of course,” he says. “You can use the responsibility and the hard work. It’ll make a man out of you.”
Grea
t. Just what I wanted to hear.
Chapter Nineteen
Tessa texts me on my way home, saying she’ll be over in a couple of hours. That’s good, of course, because I want to see her and talk about her dad, but it doesn’t give me time or privacy to have the school talk with my dad.
But he’s the one who said my life’s up to me. So I text him the news:
Quit school today. Better things to do. FYI.
He doesn’t reply—he’s probably driving home from the Attic—and with that out of the way, I realize that the big talk with him is not the one I should be worrying about.
I need to tell Tessa I’ve left school. And that Mr. Bertram thinks she’s cheating, but Tessa always manages to take those things in stride.
So I pace, thinking about how I’m going to tell her. I pour myself some orange juice. I pace some more, and I think about adding alcohol to my oj, but honestly, what for? I’d just feel sick, and then I’d still have to tell Tessa, and my tongue would be numb and my lips wouldn’t work, and then she’d be mad at me for getting drunk without her and for not being able to understand whatever words were attempting to come out of my mouth, and then she might take advantage of me and push for sex, and then what would happen?
Maybe I should get drunk.
I sip more orange juice and debate the course of my life and the fate of my relationship with Tessa when the doorbell rings.
Show time.
I pop a mint so that I don’t smell like oranges.
I open the door.
Dr. Kate and Dr. Kenneth stare at me.
“Hi,” I say.
Dr. Kate gives me a smile. “Hello, Thomas. I hope we’re not intruding.”
I slow my heart and feel my stomach turn a cartwheel. “Not intruding,” I say. “Stalking, but not intruding.”
She laughs, and it seems a little nervous. Dr. Kate is nervous?
“This is my husband, Kenneth,” she says.
I shake his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, come in.”
I lead them to the den, and we sit.
“I didn’t stalk,” Dr. Kate says suddenly. “I mean, I looked you up, but there was no stalking involved.”
