This Is My Brain on Boys Read Free Page B

explanation—complete with diagrams—illustrating how sight, smell, sounds, taste, and touch, i.e., the sum total of existence, were unfixed and fluid depending on one’s brain. But since Tess had often cautioned her against “nerding out,” all she said was “Yes.”
    There was a deafening thud and a jolt followed by a roaring screech. Involuntarily, she hugged her legs and braced her body, preparing for final impact. Seconds passed where the entire plane held its collective breath. . . .
    â€œHey!” 11B was sitting up and pointing past 11A out the window to the scenery passing by: other planes, the runway lights, the flashing of awaiting fire trucks.
    It was over. The cabin broke out into thunderousapplause. Addie sat up and clapped, too.
    â€œWe made it!” 11B exclaimed, breaking into a huge grin.
    And that’s when he did it.
    He was so fast, she didn’t have time to process his movements and react appropriately. Hand reaching out, sliding behind her ear, the sensation of warm fingers along her jawbone, on her hairline. The way he hesitated for a half of a half second and then brought his lips to hers.
    She let out a muffled gasp of, “Oh!” But he didn’t recoil in shock at his impulsivity. He let his lips linger, soft and firm, like he was trying to leave a message.
    Addie could count on one hand the times she’d been kissed by a boy. There was the necessary exploratory testing of lip-on-lip contact with Michael Utard in kindergarten. (She remembered he tasted disgustingly of peanut butter and sour milk.) In seventh grade, Nick Elias had tried to sneak a quick peck during a school dance and she promptly squished his toes in retribution. Park, the son of one of her mother’s boyfriends, had made out with her down at the Jersey Shore a few times, and then there was that moment of weakness with Dex. An incident of which they never spoke.
    Ever .
    But this was a completely different experience. Michael, Nick, Park, and Dex had been her friends orclassmates. 11B, however, was a stranger she referred to by a JetBlue seat number.
    They broke apart. 11B held up his hand. “You were right. That did it. My thumb isn’t twitching anymore.”
    â€œI don’t even know your name,” she whispered, still half in shock.
    â€œKris.” A corner of his mouth curled upward. “And you?”
    â€œAdelaide Emerson. Addie.”
    His lower jaw dropped. “ You’re Addie Emerson?”
    He acted like she’d just introduced herself as Kate Middleton.
    Or Godzilla.
    â€œYes, Addie Emerson,” she said. “Is that good or bad?”
    He collapsed in his seat. “I have no idea.”

THREE
    S o, that was Addie Emerson.
    Holy crap.
    Addie Emerson was the reason he was headed to summer school, the cause of his spring demerits and near expulsion, though that wasn’t exactly fair. It wasn’t her fault that he’d landed in hot water with the administration. You couldn’t blame the victim.
    Still . . . Addie . Freaking. Emerson.
    They were taxiing to the gate. People started gathering their things, desperate to get off the plane that had nearly spelled their doom.
    â€œThank you so much for sharing your experiences with me.” Addie turned to him with a smile that was fartoo wide and artificial, as if she was imitating a model from the cover of a teen magazine.
    Her eyes were gray, almost colorless, and completely devoid of makeup. Her hair was a mousy brown gathered in a careless ponytail. And in a plain white cropped T-shirt and blue-checked skirt, she looked more like a kid than a rising high school senior.
    â€œNice talking to you, too,” he said.
    To his own surprise, he realized he meant it. It had been nice. During their brief conversation, he found her to be smart, insightful, even funny—right up until he found out who she was.
    Now all he wanted to do was get the heck away from her as fast as