Peeves

Mom sighed. “Yes. Our house. Except it’s not ours any more. We sold it. And the new owners hired me to renovate it. That’s my job, Dale. That’s how I provide for our kids.”

“And I don’t?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you implied.”

“Look, I just need to know if you can take them now or not? It won’t be safe for them to hang out at the site … the old house … with the fumigation crew.”

The fact that they were fumigating only after we moved out didn’t seem fair. Why was it okay for us to live with pests but not some strangers? But then again, maybe that was the point. Maybe our pest-filled life needed to be aired out of the house before the next family could move in. Hopefully, they’d have better luck in it than we did. Or maybe they’d end up just like us. Who knows? Who cares?

Lucy and I slipped into Dad’s Jeep to get away from the bickering, and as she shut the door she couldn’t help but tell me, “You’ve taken so many pills, it’s no wonder you’ve become one yourself.” I was tempted to argue, but I knew she had a point. I’d been on five different medications since that first episode. A couple of them helped for a little while, but they all had different effects – and side effects. Some gave me headaches, some dry skin, some left me unable to sleep, and one even made my symptoms a little worse. Go figure. The doctors always said it would be a process of trial and error, but really it felt more like a trail of errors.

“Fine, I’ll call the therapist,” Dad told Mom as he climbed into the front seat. “I’ll fix everything,” he muttered to himself as he slammed the car door shut.

After they broke up this past summer, Dad spent a month in a motel before he moved into a “temporary” two-bedroom apartment. He furnished it with his half of our old life. For whatever reason, he got the old bedroom dresser, the living-room sofa, and a coffee table that we’d kept in the basement. Mom got all the lamps. Why? I have no idea. And the fact that Dad’s apartment had only two bedrooms meant Lucy and I had to share a room when we stayed with him, which I’m pretty sure qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment.

Things were a little better on Mom’s end, where she had us set up in a new model home in the housing development she’s been putting together in a swankier part of Old Wayford. As if anywhere in Connecticut needs new housing developments – especially ones where all the houses look exactly the same. It was really nice and much roomier than Dad’s apartment, but it didn’t feel like home. Except for a few of the lamps, Mom kept nothing from the old place. And potential new buyers were coming through all the time, so we could barely put anything up to make it look like we even lived there. At that point, I felt like just another decorative design accessory. And I couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if I had been less of a problem the past two years.

“This is never going to work,” I said out loud, but mostly to myself.

“Great. So then it will be just like it was before,” added Lucy.

Outside, the buses were pulling away and Mom forced a smile and waved goodbye to us in that way parents smile when they think they’re somehow fooling you that everything is totally fine. I should know. I’ve perfected that face myself.

Dad shifted the car into gear and flipped on the radio. “Just in time for rush-hour traffic. I’m gonna be late for my focus group,” he said. “So now you get to come to work with me, which will be super fun for everyone!”

His sarcasm was met with silence. If by “super fun” he meant feeling like a lab rat in a poorly designed experiment called “life”, then he was totally on point. I just wish I knew then how literal that comparison was about to become.

I used to think that mad science only happens in movies.

But then I went to Clarity Labs.

Clarity Labs was a sprawling building. All cold, clinical, clean lines and sanitised spaces. Imagine an Apple store crossed with a crime show morgue on serious steroids. Everything was shiny. Everything was either metal or glass. And every section seemed to be on lockdown. Dad had to swipe us in with his security card every time we turned a corner. Everyone who worked there seemed to have one of two modes: forced smiles or serious scowls. Both options made me uneasy. I trailed after Lucy, who rushed after Dad down the echo chamber hallways until he suddenly disappeared into a conference room without us. The door shut with a CLICK behind him, leaving me and Lucy to wonder what the heck just happened.

Dad must have realised this a moment later when he popped his head back out, pointing at an uncomfortable-looking metal bench. “Wait here. Do your homework. And keep an eye on her,” he said, motioning to my totally annoyed sister as if I had any control over what she does. It might have been an honest mistake, but at least this time, I was nominally in charge. Usually it worked the other way, since I was the mess and she was the one who had her poop together.

We slumped onto the bench in the hall, which was exactly as cold and uncomfortable as it looked. For a moment, I could hear Dad talking to whoever was inside that room. “Hello, and welcome to Clarity Labs. I’m Dale Pickings, Vice President of Marketing, and I’m excited to talk to you today about Personal Vex—” Until, CLICK, the door shut and locked again.

In an attempt to fulfil my duties as a responsible older brother, I pulled out my algebra homework and tried to do as I was told. But Lucy immediately started playing Candy Crush on her phone at full volume. Every chirp, chime and musical victory was amplified by the metal sound chamber we were trapped in. “Could you hit the mute button, please?” I asked as nicely as I could manage despite the candy-coloured music sending my nerves into overdrive.

This was met with a scoff from Lucy and the telltale celebratory music of a level-up. “Seriously, don’t you have homework to do?” I asked, attempting to control the annoyance in my voice.

She just smirked and rolled her eyes and said, “That’s what study hall is for.” I tried to focus on my homework again, but her Candy Crush was crushing my concentration. I could tell from the stupid smile on Lucy’s face that her goal was no longer to level-up in the game, but just to level-up my irritation. I hated that it was working, but I was determined to not let her win.

I slammed my book shut and closed my eyes. I leaned back against the wall behind me and did … nothing. The thing about Lucy is that she wants attention. And I knew the best way to annoy her was to totally ignore her.

And it worked. Lucy shifted so she was facing me, hoping the game noise would make me react. And although I was screaming on the inside, I refused to let her get a rise out of me. This was the sort of standoff we had at least once a day. I usually lost because … well, because I’m me. But this time I was distracted because I realised if I concentrated, I could hear Dad through the wall. “Clarity Labs is now refocusing our brand to appeal to the parents of the modern Millennial market. Chemicals are out of favour and natural remedies are trending.” I hadn’t heard him say that before. It made me think of Suzie. I pressed my ear to the wall.

But now that I wasn’t actively agitated by her game, Lucy was getting restless. She tends to do that when no one is paying attention to her. When Dad stopped talking, I opened my eyes again – and Lucy was gone. It had only been a minute, but she’d lost her patience and taken off down the hall. The only thing that kept me calm was the fact that you can’t get anywhere in this building without a security card. She couldn’t actually leave this hallway.

So I was stunned when I saw her swipe a card at the security pad beside the first set of doors. She paused for a moment to flip me off before disappearing. She must have stolen Dad’s security card! This wasn’t the first time she’d taken something (or “borrowed”, as she puts it) without asking. It’d been happening more and more since we moved. If something was missing, I knew who took it, and I knew it would take for ever to get it back. I gave up asking a long time ago. Usually I would just ransack her room to find it. But this was a whole new level of “borrowing”. This could get us both in real trouble.

I knew I had to act quickly if I didn’t want Dad to find out. I looked around for help, but there was no one in the hall. My leg was shaking and my nerves were frayed and I just couldn’t be alone. Without thinking, I launched myself at the door before it shut.

The door closed behind me with an audible CLICK that echoed down the halls of the actual labs of Clarity Labs like a warning. I was suddenly terrified that I would get caught. I had zero excuses ready. No one would buy that I just got lost. And I started to worry what sort of punishment would be handed out to underage trespassers. One side of the hallway was lined with heavy metal doors with little glass windows in them. The other side was broken up by glass-walled rooms where lab technicians went about their business on all sorts of sophisticated equipment. Even though no one seemed to notice (or care) that I was there, I crouched down out of sight anyway. I crept down the hall as slowly and soundlessly as possible until I was right under a sign reading, “Authorised Personnel Only Beyond This Point”. The big, bold, red and black letters were so aggressive I was afraid to step past it. Instead, I leaned forward and whispered urgently, “Lucy?!” Her name bounced down the echo chamber of a hallway, but I didn’t hear a response. Annoyed, I took a deep breath and stepped forward, breaking the invisible line where it was okay to be authorised or not, knowing full well this was a bad idea – an awful idea, actually – but also knowing, too, a far worse idea would be letting Lucy get in trouble the only time Dad ever told me to keep an eye on her.

But then a click-clacking of heels coming closer stopped me dead in my tracks. With the echoes, I couldn’t tell if it was coming from ahead of me or from behind. I didn’t know what to do or where to go. Click-clack, click-clack. A closet. I spied a closet. I rattled the handle, but it buzzed to let me know it would remain locked without a security card. Click-clack, click-clack. I backed up into a nearby doorframe and froze. Trying to be invisible, but fully knowing I was so about to be busted.

And then … just when I was sure I was about to be headed to jail or reform school, a hand reached out and grabbed me and yanked me into the room on the other side of the door. I nearly screamed but Lucy clamped a hand over my mouth and gently closed the door until it was open just a crack so she could keep an eye out.

We both listened as the click-clacking came closer, and I peeked over her shoulder as a power-suited executive and an older man in a rumpled white lab coat came into view. “Ms Salt … Ms Salt, a moment please!” I’d later find out that this was Dr Hugo Zanker, the lead research scientist at Clarity Labs. He was an unpredictable man with perpetually bloodshot eyes and a twitchy demeanour. “We need to start human trials!” he said with a desperate gleam in his eye.

The power suit turned sharply. It was Pauline Salt, CEO of Clarity Labs. I recognised her from her portrait in the front lobby. Her dark, angular face contrasted sharply with a pristinely tailored suit that was the same colour as her last name. “Dr Zanker, the future of Clarity Labs depends on me to make all the right decisions at all the right times. If we rush towards human trials, the FDA might start questioning the origin of Project PVZ.”

“But the rats are inconclusive,” Dr Zanker pleaded. “How will I know if I’ve made the proper alterations to the formula without human—”

Ms Salt silenced him with a finger. Zanker was desperate to argue, but Ms Salt was having none of it. Everything about her just screamed, This discussion is over. But instead, she didn’t even have to raise her voice. She just straightened her suit and spoke with the authority of a press release. “PVZ is an ‘all-natural’ anti-anxiety treatment intended to temporarily absorb and dispose of irritations to create calmer, consistent consumers for Clarity Labs. One purpose. One formula. No previous version. End of product description.”

“But …” continued Dr Zanker, to no avail.

“Plausible deniability is our friend, Dr Zanker,” said Pauline Salt, just before she leaned forward and added in a conspiratorial tone, “You and I both know that if the FDA starts poking around, we won’t survive Plum Island.”

Pauline Salt then turned and click-clacked away while Dr Zanker shuffled back the way they had come, arguing with himself as he went.

Lucy let the door click shut and we both exhaled a sigh of relief.

“You’re gonna get us in so much trouble,” I said. “We really shouldn’t be here.” I grabbed for her arm, thinking we’d sneak our way back to the safety of that horrible metal bench. But she dodged and turned to explore the room we’d wandered into.

“No one made you come after me.”

“No one made you … be stupid,” was the best my frazzled brain could offer. She looked at me like “good one” and kept going. I didn’t know what else to do but follow her.

The room was filled with dozens of cages that housed dozens of lab rats. In front of each cage hung different digital readings and handwritten charts.

“Animal testing is so messed up,” she spun round to tell me. “If Dad wouldn’t lose his job, I’d totally set them all free right now.”

“I don’t know. The little guys look okay to me.” And they did. No visible wounds. No extra limbs. No unidentifiable growths.

“Whoa, what’s up with this one?” she said, pointing at one of the rats. It was freaking out. Shaking and squeaking and scurrying around in its cage like it was bothered by something that wasn’t there.

We peered in and looked more closely at the rat. At first I thought that maybe it was just a little hyper, but then it started to seem like it was swatting at the air, like there was a bug in the cage that no one could see. Lucy stepped back and looked at the rest of the rats, suddenly realising … “A lot of them are acting that way.”

And she was right. About half the rats in the place looked like they were going crazy.

I picked up the handwritten chart hanging off the first rat’s cage. “Personal Vexation Zoners. PVZ.” Then I looked up at Lucy. “PVZ is what they were just talking about in the hall!” I dropped the chart and backed away. “Oh, this can’t be good. We really need to get out of here.”

“Stop freaking out, Slim. You didn’t have to follow me. If you’re so eager to get out of here,” Lucy said as she shoved me towards the door, “then get out!”

And I tried to resist, but something in her just cracked. She pushed and pushed and pushed until she yanked the door open and pushed me out the same way she’d just pulled me in. I tumbled out into the hallway and crashed right into Dr Zanker. I remember everything as if it all happened in super slo-mo. Dr Zanker wasn’t watching where he was going. He was in a hurry and certainly didn’t expect a kid to crash into him in the middle of the hallway. He was wearing a surgical mask and carrying a small nasal spray bottle. I slammed into him in mid-stride, knocking the bottle out of his hands. He fumbled for it, but he only slapped it up into the air even higher. I fell in a flop to the floor, and a moment later, the bottle hit the cold, hard tiles too. Right in front of me. Close enough that I could read the label – Personal Vexation Zoners (PVZ). Close enough that when it cracked open I got a big whiff of it right in the face.

I immediately panicked. Instead of covering my mouth, I gasped for air. Not smart. By the time I sat up, the PVZ bottle was empty and I’d inhaled it all.

“What did you just do!” shouted Dr Zanker as he snatched up the broken bottle.

I leaped to my feet and wiped my face as if that would somehow get rid of the evidence. I wasn’t sure what to do. I was about to take off, make a run for it, when a fire alarm rang out. The hall quickly flooded with lab technicians and employees. As Dr Zanker scrambled to collect the broken pieces of his PVZ bottle, Lucy came out of nowhere, grabbed my arm, and ushered me into the crowd.

Before I could really process what had happened, we’d gone back through the main door between the labs we should never have gone into in the first place and the hallway we should have been waiting in this whole time. Up ahead, Dad guided his focus group towards the lobby. “Just remain calm,” he said, “like PVZ will make you. Eventually. When it’s approved for mass consumption.” One of the focus group members gave him a dirty glare, so he shouted to the whole group, “And don’t worry, you’ll still get your free vouchers!”

I headed towards him, but Lucy stopped me before he could see where we had come from. We saw Dad look at the empty bench, realise we weren’t there, and then spin around to scan for us. Lucy pushed us behind a rather large lab tech, and by the time Dad had done a full 360, we were back sitting on the bench as if we’d never left.

“Oh, where … I just …” Dad stammered, confused. “Never mind. We need to evacuate.” As he guided us both towards the lobby, I saw Lucy slip his security card back in his pocket. She was so much sneakier than I ever imagined. The fire alarm kept blaring and that’s when I put it together.

“Did you pull—” But I was cut off by Lucy’s elbow in my rib cage. Dad took one look at me and asked his standard, “Hey, are you okay?” He saw me look accusingly at Lucy and asked the even more standard, “What’s going on?”

I don’t exactly know how to explain it, but despite how much we drive each other crazy, we must have some instinctive sibling bond that sparks in times of crisis. Without even hesitating, we both said, “Nothing!” as if it had to be the truth. Dad wasn’t convinced, but there was no time for cross-examinations. We had just made it to the lobby exit when Pauline Salt popped up out of nowhere, like a jump scare in a horror movie. “The focus group was cut short, Dale. This whole day is now void,” she said, completely oblivious to the concerned people trying to get to safety all around her. “You’ll have to redo it. We go to the board next week. No mistakes. No excuses.”

Dad stared at her like a chastised child. “But … it’s a fire alarm.”

“No. Excuses,” she reiterated. And then Pauline Salt click-clacked away, against the tide of the crowd, back towards the labs as if the fire better be afraid of her.

As I watched her go, I spotted Dr Zanker frantically searching the crowd. We made eye contact, and he lit up like I was the dessert tray after a fancy meal. “Slim!” Dad shouted after me, reminding me that I was once again two steps behind them. I ran to catch up, slipping through the door just as it was shutting. The last thing I saw through the closing gap was Dr Zanker standing there, still watching me, as a creepy, giddy smile slid across his face.

We parked in the driveway of the model home after a long ride in total silence. Dad seemed to be preoccupied with work. And considering how Pauline Salt had chewed him out, I didn’t blame him. Lucy kept quiet in the back seat, not even using her phone. I was pretty sure she was just trying to keep a low profile to prevent me from abruptly ratting her out about sneaking into the labs.

But any hope of remaining calm and quiet was shot when I went inside. Mom took one look at me and rained down questions I didn’t have the energy to answer: “Are you okay? You look pale. Are you sick? What did Dad do with you? Did he give you candy? Is it a tummy ache? You know sugar doesn’t help your anxiety. Did you at least do your homework? Why are you looking at me like that? What happened?”

Thankfully, Dad was totally in the mood to answer that last question. “What happened, Leslie, is that you screwed up our schedules – AGAIN.”

Lucy had already run upstairs to avoid getting roped into the drama. But I couldn’t pull myself away. It was like watching a car crash you’re powerless to stop.

“I didn’t ‘screw up’ our schedules, Dale; you just never bother to listen to anyone.”

Dad scoffed. “Oh, I hear you. Trying to control everything and everyone as usual.” And from there came a familiar litany of complaints – the missed opportunities, the forgotten anniversaries, the lack of empathy, the time we got stuck at that gas station on the way to Big Moose Lake. (Dad locked the keys inside the car!) I knew exactly how the rest would go and that it wouldn’t stop until one of them said something mean enough to end it. I didn’t need to stick around to witness that part. So, I trudged up the stairs after Lucy and shut the door to my model room in my model home right above my not-so-model parents, who I could still hear shouting.

“Fire alarm?! After what Slim already went through today? Did you WANT him to have another episode?”

“Slim was fine! He is fine! Well, mostly. And anyway, my focus group today was for a new treatment that could end up helping him when it’s released.”

“Oh God, you sound just like that sociopathic boss of yours,” Mom shot back. “We agreed to this ‘medication vacation’,” she continued. “And I’m looking for a new therapist, since he won’t actually talk to the one we’re wasting money on. I just haven’t found the—”

“TIME?” Dad scoffed again. “All those years and God forbid I missed one of your imaginary deadlines for mowing the lawn or replacing the Brita filter, but you can’t hit a deadline on helping our son?”

No matter what the fight started about, it always included what to do about me.

I always seemed to be the problem.

I lifted the bottom edges of a life-size Spider-Man poster (one of the few personal touches I was allowed to add to our model life), revealing an almost unnoticeable little door in the wall. It was built to be a storage cubby, but it’s got a little light inside and over the past few weeks, I’d filled it with blankets and comics and a good-size candy stash. It’s my “safe space”. No one knew about it. I crawled in, shut the door, put a pillow over my face, and screamed my frustrations into it. When I was done, I felt a little better. I opened an X-Men comic, grabbed some Twizzlers, and gnawed down three at a time until my parents’ shouting faded away and I heard Dad slam the door and leave.

Everything got very still and very quiet after that. I almost felt like I could breathe again, but as soon as I realised that, I began to feel guilty. Like I was happy my parents weren’t together. And that’s how I would feel if it really were my fault. I got a sinking feeling in my gut, and it wasn’t from the candy. My thought spiral was picking up speed again, so I started doing the mental exercises my therapist gave me to reframe my negative thoughts. I told myself that I’m okay. That everything is going to be okay. Then I got specific. I remembered Pauline Salt saying PVZ is for anxiety issues. So I thought to myself, Maybe I’m starting to calm down because the PVZ is actually working. It was a long shot, but I doubled down on it with, Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and wake up tomorrow and be cured of whatever is really wrong with me. And then I glanced at the mutant heroes in the glossy pages of my comic book and really went for it with the ridiculous, Or maybe I’ll even wake up and discover this exposure to PVZ has given me some sort of superpower! A moment later, reality set in and I started to worry about the far more likely scenario that the PVZ would give me hives or brain zaps or make me grow hair on my eyeballs.

It turned out I wasn’t totally wrong. It did give me something. Or some things, to be precise. But they definitely weren’t superpowers. And they definitely weren’t a cure.