Charisma (8 page)

Jack gazes at me and shakes his head like he's having trouble believing something. “I've always thought you were great, but I never realized just how amazing you were until tonight. It's like you glow or something.”

“Okay, I know I don't have a tan, but—”

“You know what I mean.”

Do I? My insides sure seem to. Warm and alive and so, so happy.

He steps toward me. I match his movement as he leans closer. And closer still. My eyes close and I lick my lips. Finally, finally . . .

The porch light pops on, and we both jump back. With a creak, the front door opens, and Mom peeks out.

Her eyes widen when she sees Jack. “Oh, hey, I heard something out here . . .”

I wait for Mom to get a clue and go back inside before the atmosphere shifts from awkward to unsalvageable. But she doesn't pick up on my mental messages that scream “Go away!” Hemming and hawing, she hovers until Jack holds out his hand and introduces himself.

She seems impressed by the gesture, but still doesn't retreat into the house after the handshake. Is she doing this on purpose? Just because she hasn't tried dating since Dad doesn't give her the right to mess up things between me and Jack.

The three of us fall into an uncomfortable silence for a long moment. And then Jack pulls out his car keys and announces he'll be leaving. My body deflates like a soccer ball that's been kicked too hard.

“Maybe we can go to Erin's party tomorrow night?” Jack calls over his shoulder on the way to the curb.

“Sure,” I say, noticing Mom's frown.

At least there's hope for another chance with him. I follow Mom inside, fighting an urge to throw one of my carefully chosen gold flip-flops at her. That's odd. Violence isn't exactly one of my go-to traits. Maybe it comes with the glowing.

Who knew genes could be so unpredictable?

The next morning, I call Evie first thing to relay
my perfect
-until-the-last-minute evening.

She sighs loudly. “Okay, next time you'll need to make your move quicker; waiting 'til the end is too much pressure. Seriously, find a way to be
alone
alone during the first hour. Know what I mean? The rest of your time will go great after that.”

It's funny listening to her give boy advice, seeing as how she's only two dates ahead of me. Being diligent students, we've spent many hours discussing hypotheticals and watching MTV. But finally having the chance to plan
in situ
experiences, well, no comparison.

She laughs. “Aislyn's got a boyfriend, Aislyn's got a—”

I hang up and waltz downstairs, where Sammy gulps the enzyme capsules he needs to take with every meal, and Mom looks up from her coffee. She says, “Sad news in Nova Genetics' family newsletter. That sweet caretaker Steffie passed away.” She shakes her head. “They say she had a history of health issues, including asthma.”

I sink to a chair, a lot less hungry than I was a moment ago. “Wow, I thought she just had a cold. She was always super-nice to the teen group.”

I bet gene therapy could've eventually cured Steffie's asthma and whatever other problems she had. How horribly unfair to work for a company that develops medical breakthroughs, but not be helped in time herself. Hopefully, my participation in a gene therapy trial, even unapproved, will push this science forward.

After a somber breakfast, I head to work. My glumness over Steffie's death lifts when I arrive at swim class, where Molly jumps into the pool and hugs me. Patrick and I exchange raised eyebrows.

I ride the day with the same ease as yesterday. No, more than ease, liberation, as if I've been unleashed from years of wearing a chain and muzzle. My new boldness makes me curious to test how this Charisma works. I stroll through the crowd, giving one guy a smile, the next a slow blink. The first seems pleased, the second intrigued. Interesting. I spend the rest of the afternoon playing with my new personality like a gadget. The tiniest expressions prove as potent as cinnamon in your hot chocolate. I'll have to learn how to handle them with care.

Not ready to leave the pulsing energy of the crowd
at the
end of my shift, I find a warm deck chair and relax to
the happy
noise of swimmers as I pull out my phone and use the camera as a mirror. This blond-haired girl with gray eyes doesn't appear any different. But she has a date and is heading to a party, so what do I know?

I check out life in the virtual lane. On Chloe's page, a bunch of messages offer get-well wishes. What a bummer to get sick when she's so clearly in her element with the news videos. I start to add a note, but before I can, Chloe posts an update saying false alarm, she's feeling great. I let out a breath. Her news relieves me more than it should.

Chloe then posts a video from Veggiefest along with a form for viewers to denounce GMOs. Hmm. She's always spoken up for various causes, but I've never seen it go anywhere until now. The only way to describe it would be to say she's more charismatic. A nagging suspicion creeps into my thoughts. My curiosity too strong to ignore, I send a message:
LOVE WHAT YOU'VE BEEN UP TO. MY LIFE HAS CHANGED FOR THE BETTER TOO. LET'S CHAT!

That's not exactly divulging any secrets, is it?

I scan the comments under Chloe's video. One from Shane says, “Following in your footsteps!”

Huh? I click to his site. More photos of himself and more photos of girls “applying” to join his harem. A mysterious “Stay tuned!” banner scrolls across.

I rub my cheek. It's awfully coincidental that both Chloe and Shane have amped up their online presence this week. But it doesn't make sense that Dr. Sternfield would've given them Charisma when they clearly didn't need to be more extroverted.

Troubled by my suspicions, I click around to as many other teen sibs pages as I can find. Most strike me as ordinary, the only possible exception being Rosa's. Her posts in English include announcements about “Having the BEST day!” and her Spanish entries are filled with exclamation marks.

A sliver of pain shoots behind my eyes. If any others have taken the gene therapy, do they have side effects? Even if I don't ask them directly, there's someone I could contact. Should've done it sooner. I pull up Dr. Sternfield's number.

She answers on the second ring. “Well, hello there, Aislyn. How's life?”

“Mostly great, actually.”

She laughs. “As expected.”

“There's just one thing. I've been getting these weird headaches, and sometimes I'm a little dizzy.”

There's the tiniest pause before she says, “Completely normal. Your brain is producing new proteins, and creating new neural pathways. Once things settle down, the headaches will go away.”

“Are the other people you gave Charisma to having the same side effects? I heard Chloe was sick earlier.”

A longer silence this time. “If I've allowed others to experience the gene therapy, it wouldn't be prudent to say anything. I don't want to influence how you perceive the changes in your life with anecdotal evidence from others. You know how research works.” Her voice gets lower. “Aislyn, you've kept this under wraps, right? No blabbing?”

“Of course not,” I say, thinking about how much I ache to tell Evie.

“Good girl. Since I trust your discretion, I'll let you in on some news: Sammy's in the AV719 pool. I wouldn't be surprised if he's, ahem, randomly selected.”

“Wow. That's fantastic. Thanks so much.”

“Remember, keep quiet until it's official, okay? We don't want to jeopardize anything.”

I wave to a couple of lifeguards strolling by. “Of course.”

“Now, give me the scoop on your new life.”

I share a few details, including the party with Jack tonight. As I do, my cheeks grow warm. “It's like I'm the person I've always dreamed of being, you know?”

“You have no idea how thrilled this makes me, Aislyn.”

And, really, the headaches are so fleeting, they aren't
really an
issue at all.

With my nerves calmed, we hang up. I'm lucky to be part of her secret study, like winning the lottery. Me, the girl who drew the short straw on not growing up with a father and dealing with a crippling personality disorder.

As content as a cat under a skylight, I gather my stuff and head out, exchanging hellos with half a dozen people on the way to my car.

That evening, Jack's right on time again. As I let myself out, I say, “Good thing you passed the police check.”

He winks. “In this state, anyway. But if you want me to break any laws, just say the word.”

“Hmm. I'll think of something.”

We float into a gentle sunset.

Jack shakes his head. “I can hardly believe I'm with the same girl.”

This stops me short. He is with the same girl, isn't he? I mean, I'm still me, only more willing to let others see that me. I brush my fingers against my temple even though nothing hurts. My skin prickles as if my body's trying to figure something out. Inhabiting a new personality must be like a snail making its home in a new shell, wiggling and adjusting its innards until everything fits just so.

Fortunately, my feelings of discombobulation soon dissipate as we drive along tree-shaded streets. When Jack parks the car, I find my legs aren't as wobbly as last time, and the music playing at Erin's house is more of an embrace than an assault.

Evie and Rafe have already taken up a spot in the corner. They raise red cups in salute to Jack and me. Rafe nuzzles Evie's neck, and she glances my way with a sly smile. So they've found enough
alone
alone time to get comfortable with PDA. Well, hopefully Jack and I will catch up soon. In the alone time anyway.

We join a conversation about someone's dad getting Botox and another girl's sister who got a boob job for her eighteenth birthday.

Zoe, an artsy girl who's more Evie's friend than mine, shakes her head. “I'd never want to be so fake.”

The guy next to her glances at her healthy chest. “Easy for you to say.”

She slaps his arm. “We should accept who we are. Anything else is phony.”

The others nod.

I straighten my shoulders. “People should make their own choices. As long as they aren't going nuts with a bunch of surgeries, it's their decision. Just like dyeing your hair or going on a diet. Who are we to judge?”

Everyone stares in silence. Evie squints intensely at me.

Zoe tugs at a multi-pierced earlobe. “All those air-brushed ads make people feel horrible about themselves if they don't measure up. I refuse to buy into it.”

I say, “We don't have to hold ourselves to Hollywood's impossible ideals. But most of us alter ourselves every day to be more attractive. If you wanted to be one hundred percent natural, you wouldn't wear deodorant or style your hair.”

Jack's shocked expression is almost comical, but he's able to sputter, “Yeah, I don't want anyone telling me what I can and can't do. I can say no to the stupid stuff.”

Evie doesn't stop staring at me.

Jack motions toward the kitchen. “You want something to drink?”

I have a quick flashback to Drew's party. “Maybe a soda?”

Jack smiles and heads off. The kids around me transition from plastic surgery gossip to a new all-ages club downtown.

The guy next to Zoe says, “They had some nasty E there last week. Tory Simmons had to get her stomach pumped.”

Zoe sighs dramatically. “Damn, if people aren't re-
molding themselves
physically, they're doing it mentally.”

I point to her cup. “Like with beer?”

Everyone laughs, even Zoe, who's smart enough not to argue the point. Persuading others to see things my way is potent, filling me with energy and giddiness.

Evie yanks my elbow. “Got a sec?”

“Sure.”

She leads me into an empty garage that smells of turpentine. The door has barely closed when she whips around. “What the hell is going on?”

“What do you mean?”

She counts on her fingers. “You texted Jack. You
went out
with him. You came to a party without me begging or you puking. And now you're the center of attention. Basking in it, even. After last weekend, I can't believe this is possible.”

I try to contain my grin. “You're the one who's always claimed that exposure therapy is the be-all, end-all. Maybe it finally kicked in.”

“Exposure therapy gave you a major meltdown at Drew's party.”

“So, what else could explain it?” I'll admit, I'm having fun with this.

She crosses her arms and paces. “I don't know. Maybe I'm just the one freaking out now because you're so not the Aislyn I'm used to.” Her jaw is set tight.

It seems cruel not to let my best friend in on the news. Besides, she already knows something's up, and I'll implode if I try to keep it from her any longer.

Taking a deep breath, I lean toward her. “If I tell you something, would you promise never ever to tell anyone else?”

She rocks on the balls of her feet. “You're okay, right? This isn't going to be something horrible?”

I smile. “Not a bit. Promise not to say a word?”

“Of course. Now tell me.”

I brace my shoulders and swallow. “Okay. There's a doctor at Nova Genetics who's working on a gene therapy to make people more sociable. And on Sunday I got a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to try it.” Oh, God, sharing my secret is the hugest rush.

Evie cocks her head. “How? Like Prozac? Or more like cocaine?”

I laugh, the relief of telling sending me into a light-headed state as I give her the specifics.

Her face pales and she shakes her head. “Aw, Aiz. It sounds so, so extreme. What if it doesn't work?”

“You've already seen that it does work. Amazingly. At the teen siblings meeting, I even called a guy a douchebag.”

She purses her lips, staring at me with flame in her black eyes. “I don't know whether to be proud of you or smack you.”

I pretend to flinch. “Maybe we should get back to the
party and
enjoy the new me before you decide.”

With Evie sighing dramatically, we head out of the garage. This time she follows me.

Jack raises his eyebrows when we rejoin the group. I whisper, “Girl talk.”

I sip the soda he brought and hand it back. He puts his lips exactly where mine were and takes a long swallow. His tan jawline glints with the hint of golden stubble to match his hair. I want so badly to drag a finger along it, slowly.

Suddenly, the room goes tilty and my head light. Whoa. I grab Jack's arm for support.

“You okay?” He wipes splashed soda from his cheek and licks it off his finger.

Rafe laughs. “Dang, someone cannot handle her alcohol.”