The Silver Moon Elm Page 12

  “Anyone who has ever suffered from diabetes can attest to the consequences of an imbalance of sugars in the blood,” Ms. Sloane announced while walking past the first few rows of students. “It is an irony, one of many in nature. Glucose, the most abundant organic molecule on the planet, a building block of life…can kill.

  “So can vitamin A, or any other vitamin for that matter. Taken normally, in doses of 700 to 900 micrograms per day, vitamin A keeps you healthy and staves off multiple eye disorders. But taken in doses of more than 3,000 micrograms per day for long enough, it can damage the liver or cause birth defects.”

  “What about water?” Bobbie asked from the back of the classroom, looking as slow and skeptical as she—he?—ever had back at Jennifer’s own Winoka High. “There’s no way anyone has died from drinking too much water!”

  “You could drown in it,” a boy near the back of the class suggested.

  Andi shook her head. “Suffocation isn’t the same as toxicity.”

  “Correct again,” Ms. Sloane agreed with a hint of admiration. Now at the back of the class, she rubbed the end of her yardstick with a long, green fingernail. “When someone drinks too much pure water, the body loses salts like sodium chloride and potassium chloride. Salts, of course, are vital to our existence. People have actually died this way, though very rarely.”

  “Too much of a good thing,” Jennifer muttered.

  Ms. Sloane heard her and pointed smartly with the stick. “That’s right. Too much of a good thing. Can anyone tell me what homeostasis means?”

  One of the larger boys toward the back grinned and started whispering to another. He stopped as Ms. Sloane brought down her yardstick upon his desk, splintering it and snapping the entire class to attention.

  “Mr. Turnbull,” she snarled. “Do you find something amusing in my question?”

  The boy slunk down in his chair and shook his head.

  Ms. Sloane, not ready to let the issue drop, bent over so her rust-colored lips were next to his reddening ear. “Perhaps you can help me with something, Mr. Turnbull. Despite my youthful looks, I have been teaching chemistry for many years. I notice, every autumn, that when the day comes when I introduce the term homeostasis”—her lips massaged the vowels slowly and tenderly, making the boy sink farther into his chair—“there is always at least one boy who needs to remark on the word. Can you imagine why that might be, Mr. Turnbull?”

  “Intellectual curiosity?” he croaked.

  The splintered end of the yardstick rose until it was just under his nose. “Doubtful. Let me suggest, Mr. Turnbull, that you keep your jocular remarks to yourself.”

  “Okay.”

  “Thank you.” Ms. Sloane’s tone softened as she brought the yardstick up to her own face and picked thoughtfully at the broken end. “So. Who can tell me what this word means?”

  Again, Andi’s slender hand rose alone.

  “Yes?”

  “Homeostasis is the state of equilibrium within a living organism. A homeostatic system is stable.”

  “Correct again. Well done. When someone takes too much of a substance internally—be it a neurotoxin or vitamin A—it throws equilibrium off. A homeostatic system will use negative feedback—a reaction to reverse the imbalance. If you’ve heard the phrase for every action, an equal and opposite reaction, you have a sense of what a homeostatic system tries to do.

  “If the dose of toxin is small enough, a homeostatic system will find a way to get back to normal. If the dose is too large, the system will collapse—an organ will fail, for example, and death may result.

  “Balance is a concept that runs through chemistry, and the study of poisons. I have two test tubes here”—she held them up—“each with a different substance. The first is the most poisonous naturally-occurring substance in the world. The second is the venom of one of the most feared poisonous creatures in the world. Each has a complete opposite effect on the body’s neurotransmitters. Would anyone care to guess what they are?”

  After several moments of watching the class wait for Andi to raise her hand, Jennifer was relieved when her new friend relented. “The first substance is the botulin toxin. The second substance could be one of several spider or snake venoms.”

  “Black widow spider toxin, to be precise. And does anyone know how they interact with neurotransmitters?”

  Here, despite Ms. Sloane’s eager look, not even Andi had an answer.

  The teacher finally had to answer herself. “Black widow venom acts by forcing the body’s release of acetylcholine, which contracts muscles. On the other hand, botulin shuts down that very neurotransmitter, causing paralysis of the musculature.”

  Jennifer struggled to recall a news story she had heard once of several dozen people around the country getting food poisoning. A meat-packing company ended up the target of a class-action lawsuit. Hadn’t that been a form of botulism? She wasn’t sure.

  “Class, I have one more question before we get to the heart of the matter today.” Ms. Sloane used the splintered yardstick to reach back and scratch her spine, causing her angora sweater to ride up a few inches. Jennifer caught sight of an exotic yin/yang tattoo in the small of the young teacher’s back before she turned around. “Can anyone think of what these two very different poisons have in common—other than, of course, the fact that they can both kill?”

  There were no takers, which didn’t seem to disappoint Ms. Sloane. She carried on without missing a beat. “Both substances have led to high-profile advances in medicine.”

  Now, a hand went up—a boy about two rows behind Jennifer. The teacher accepted the late entry with grace. “Yes, Mr. Taylor? You can fill in a detail?”

  “I think my mother once had botulin injected to remove some wrinkles from her face!”

  “That may be so, in minute doses. A more medically useful application of botulin is as a muscle relaxant when a patient is suffering from severe muscle spasms or from migraine headaches. Okay, now that we’ve addressed one of the poisons, would anyone like to take a stab at the medicinal uses of black widow toxin?”

  Jennifer raised a tentative hand. “Is it used to create antivenom?”

  “Yes, Ms. Scales! In humans and other animals, the introduction of many venoms will inspire the creation of antibodies. For that reason, we can actually use some poisons—like black widow poison—to build medicines that save lives.

  “And so we come to the heart of the matter. Class, just like any beneficial substance might be a poison, so any poison might have medicinal uses. The demanding dual nature of drugs and other ingested substances leads us to the Central Truth of Poisons.”

  By this time, Ms. Sloane had laid down the yardstick and was back at the blackboard, scribbling four lines of text.

  POISON IS DEATH.

  POISON TESTS US.

  POISON STRENGTHENS US.

  POISON IS LIFE.

  “Class, this Central Truth is essential to your understanding of chemistry—and a great deal else. Because poison threatens death, it challenges us. Because it challenges us, it can make us stronger if we survive the challenge. And by becoming stronger, we increase our chances of survival and prolong our lives. Please repeat after me: Poison is death.”

  “Poison is death,” the class repeated as Jennifer watched with a growing chill in her abdomen.

  “Poison tests us.”

  “Poison tests us.”

  This is crazy. Jennifer kept her mouth shut and her head down.

  “Poison strengthens us.” The jade fingernails were wrapped around the yardstick again.

  “Poison strengthens us.”

  The broken stick came down hard on Jennifer’s desk. “Ms. Scales. You seem to have trouble participating in this exercise. Please repeat after me. Poison is life.”

  “I—This is just—”

  “Poison is life, Ms. Scales.”

  Jennifer felt the burn of every student’s stare on the back of her head. Many of them, she knew, had more than two eyes hidden deep ins
ide. This is no time to be a rebel.

  “Ma’am. Poison is life.”

  “Excellent. Again, class, all together now. Poison is death.”

  “Poison is death.” Jennifer said the words with everyone else, feeling very far away from home.

  “Poison tests us.”

  “Poison tests us…”

  She was just getting out of Spanish class at the end of the day—a refreshingly normal experience where they learned words such as cambiar and arquitectura, and where nobody had a mantra to chant before the bell rang—when a voice down the hallway startled her.

  “Hey, Jennifer!”

  She tried pretending not to hear as she strode toward the exit, but it was impossible—Bobbie Jarkmand was the only girl in Pinegrove High with longer legs than her.

  “Jennifer, wait up!” Bobbie grabbed her by the arm, a strong grip that Jennifer was flustered to find she could not break. Before her attempt to escape led to violence, she decided to relax and turn. The other A-Listers were catching up to the two of them.

  “Oh, Bobbie! It’s you. Hey, Andi, Anne, Amy, Abigail. What’s up?”

  “Just thought we could talk. You know, new student and all. So where are you from?” Bobbie’s voice did not sound particularly threatening and she had let go of her grip, but the question still made Jennifer nervous.

  “I’m—er—from out of state. Just moved here.”

  “Your parents got a new job, or something? My parents moved me to this shit town five years ago; I could kill them for it.” Bobbie took out a compact that looked not unlike the one Amanda Sera used and began to check her lipstick.

  “They aren’t—I don’t have any—I mean, my parents are gone.”

  The other four girls gasped, but Bobbie barely missed a beat. She smacked her lips, flipped her compact shut, and cocked her head as if she smelled something strange. “That sucks. So where’re you living?”

  There was no point in lying. “With Skip Wilson.”

  “Oooh, he’s cute. Doesn’t he live with Ms. Saltin, the music teacher?”

  “He’s her nephew, I guess.” Jennifer wanted to talk about something else.

  Apparently, so did Bobbie. “Huh. So how about that chem class, am I right, Andi? I wonder if Ms. Sloane is ever going to let us take the chug test.”

  “The chug test?”

  Bobbie turned to Amy Collins. “You got any widowmilk?”

  Amy’s brunette curls hopped up and down mischievously. “Yeah, in my locker!”

  “Guys, I’m kinda hoping to meet Skip—”

  It was no use. They all scrambled down the hall together, pushing Jennifer along. Jennifer had the presence of mind to seek out Andi, who seemed the most intelligent of the bunch.

  “Widowmilk?”

  Andi gave her an apologetic wink. “Black widow poison. Bobbie likes to show off for new friends. You should be flattered.”

  “Why—” Jennifer began, but Anne stepped between the two of them.

  “So, you coming to practice tomorrow?”

  “Practice? Oh, you mean cheerleader practice. I’m not really—”

  Abigail squealed and gave Jennifer a scornful look. “As if! Cheerleaders! Hey, Bobbie, you wanna do a cheerleader routine after school?”

  They all burst out laughing, and Jennifer felt herself redden. “Gee, Abby, I’m sorry I don’t know every detail about your lives. I’m afraid I haven’t pored over your bios just yet. And I’ve been here a whole four hours! Maybe you could give me a break and tell me what you’re talking about.”

  Abigail flushed and mumbled something, but Anne and Andi gave Jennifer quick, appreciative winks.

  “Soccer,” Anne explained. “We play soccer. How about you?”

  Jennifer felt herself grow three inches. “Oh, yeah. Varsity starter, back home.” Then she stopped short. “It’s November. You guys have a late season or something?”

  Bobbie shrugged. “A bunch of area schools have a fall-winter season. Yours didn’t?”

  “No.”

  “How much milk you got?” Bobbie asked Amy.

  “Ssshhh!” The brunette tilted her head at a nearby teacher as they pulled up to her locker. “I’ve already been busted twice for this. We gotta take it to the girls’ room. Here, gimme a sec.”

  While Amy fumbled with the combination on her locker, Andi filled Jennifer in. “The soccer team has something of a tradition with widowmilk. What we’re about to do isn’t, well, legal.”

  “What!?” Jennifer’s head swam with visions of expulsion. That would be bad. Wouldn’t it?

  Andi sighed. “It’s not a big deal, I guess. Some teachers figure it’s harmless and look the other way, but most students don’t press their luck like these guys.”

  “Isn’t this the same stuff Ms. Sloane was just showing us two classes ago?”

  “Got it!” Amy slipped two small, opaque medicine bottles into her purse, and the six of them were off again.

  “She keeps a whole bunch of poisons in the school storage locker,” Andi explained. Jennifer was grateful for this strange girl’s blend of calm and concern. “Anne’s a bit of a teacher’s pet, so she has the keys to run supplies up and down. She skims some, and Amy keeps it in her locker.”

  Both thrilled at the quickly growing rapport she had with this girl and appalled at what was going on, Jennifer scratched her head. “Why the hell do they take it?”

  Andi looked down and tugged on the sleeves of her navy shirt. “Some people just do stupid things. But in Bobbie’s case, it’s not really a danger…”

  They slipped into the girls’ room, giggling and stealing glances into the empty toilet stalls. Once they were sure they were alone, Amy pulled out one of the medicine bottles and a hypodermic needle and handed them to Bobbie.

  “You know the stuff about homeostasis that Ms. Sloane just taught us?” Andi asked Jennifer.

  “Yeah.”

  “No one in Pinegrove has a more stable system than Bobbie. Watch this.”

  A stupid grin gracing her overly broad face, Bobbie held the small bottle high. The other girls began to chant.

  “Milk, milk, milk!”

  Playing to the audience with a great deal of flair, Bobbie pushed the needle into the vial, extracted all the fluid inside, pulled the needle out, and plunged it into her thick neck.

  “Milk, milk, milk!”

  It was over in four seconds. Bobbie wound up and threw the empty bottle against the far wall, where it smashed against the tile.

  “Woooo!” she gasped and her eyeballs strained, but she never stopped smiling. “My heart is going nuts!” She grabbed Jennifer’s hand and put it up against her chest. “Feel that! Isn’t that awesome?!”

  Jennifer was too startled to pull away. The large girl’s heart was pounding harder than that of a horse, and faster than that of a mouse. But Bobbie was standing tall and suffering no other effects. In fact, she was using her free hand to poke through Amy’s purse. “Where’s that second bottle?”

  “Take it easy, Bobbie!” Andi warned. “Even you can’t do two bottles that fast.”

  “Not for me, Andi. For Jennifer. Ah, here it is.”

  Jennifer pulled her hand off of Bobbie’s chest. “Uh, no. I’ve never—I can’t—Thanks, Bobbie, but no way. I’m not doing that.”

  They all stared at her in silence. Bobbie held out the bottle in an open palm. “You can do it, Jenny.”

  “We all do it,” Amy put in with a satisfied smirk. “It’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “You don’t have to do a full bottle,” Anne suggested. “Just a half-dose won’t hurt you much. We all do okay.”

  Yeah, but I’m nothing like you guys! Jennifer looked around at them, all but Andi undoubtedly werachnid children. Like Skip, they were obviously resistant to toxins. Good for them. But she doubted a dragon’s internal systems were as stable. In fact, when she considered skills like fire-breathing and camouflage, she supposed few beings were as volatile. Poison would probably cripple her.

>   And even if it didn’t, this whole scene creeped her out. She took a step back. “I’m really not interested.”

  Bobbie took a matching step forward. “It’s what we do, Jenny. It’s a team tradition.”

  “Yeah, well then, screw your team and its traditions. I’m not doing it. Nice knowing you all.”

  With that, she turned and made for the exit.

  “Wait, Jenny! Okay, you don’t have to do it.” Bobbie handed the bottle off to Amy and gave chase. She caught Jennifer’s wrist and prevented her—once again, the strong bitch!—from going any farther. “You won’t tell any of the teachers or Principal Mouton, will you?”

  Jennifer sighed and faced them all again. “Bobbie, I’m not going to spend my first day in this school ratting out friends. You want to mess with that crap, go nuts. But don’t ever try to push it on me again. That goes for all of you,” she added, looking pointedly at Amy, who returned a sneer.

  “Don’t worry.” Bobbie looked back at the others. “We’ll all back off. Right, girls?”

  They all shrugged. Andi, at least, nodded.

  “You’ve got guts, Scales.” Bobbie punched Jennifer lightly in the shoulder. “I’ll bet you’re a force with a soccer ball.”

  “I am,” Jennifer answered. “But my guts can’t handle what you just handled. How are you not vomiting blood?”

  Bobbie laughed. With her face this close, Jennifer could make out the scent of onions on the larger girl’s breath. “Poison tests us. Poison strengthens us. Poison is life…”

  That got them all chanting again, and Jennifer slowly backed out of the restroom before another needle contest could begin.

  It bothered her that this world was so different. It bothered her that this world was so familiar. It bothered her that she could never tell what was going to be waiting around the corner.

  And it bothered her most of all that here at Pinegrove High, she was not even close to being the strongest.

  Tavia Saltin and Edmund Slider, out of their teacher roles and in the comfort of home, appeared sympathetic to Jennifer’s plight as Skip related her “story” to them after school.

  “Parents killed by a drunk driver!” Tavia clucked as she rummaged through the foyer closet. “And on top of that, an abusive uncle! No wonder you were so quick to run away with only the clothes on your back. Edmund, it’s like I’ve told you—society today is topsy-turvy. Nothing is right with the world, anymore. Heaven knows who’s taken over, but it’s certainly not the good guys.”