S. Bodeen - The Fallout

“Wow.” I paged through to a set of pictures and gaped. They were of a young child with a bald head and no eyebrows. If it wasn’t for the pink dress, I wouldn’t have known she was a girl. She looked like a wizened little old man. “How sad…” I paged through more, reading about the Progeria Institute and everything they did trying to discover a cure for the disease. There were more pictures of young children, all who looked like small, wrinkled old people.

I finished the file and set it down just as Ms. Greene came back. “Find anything that looks interesting?”

I picked the file back up. “Progeria.”

Her smile immediately drooped as she sunk to the couch beside me. “Oh, my gosh. Those poor children. It’s the saddest thing.”

I said, “I want to go there. To the research center.”

She tilted her head a bit. “Let’s get one thing clear. Just because you are interested in a cause doesn’t mean you have to get personally involved. Your father rarely—”

I clenched my fists. “I am not my father.”

She reached out and set a firm hand on my knee. “Of course not. It’s just…”

I stiffened. “What?”

She took a deep breath. “Having the money? To fund these causes? Doesn’t mean you should get involved. Personally, I mean.”

“So, I should just learn to write the check?” I asked. “Not ever learn who the check is actually helping?”

“Or not helping,” she said.

“What?” I didn’t get it.

She tapped the progeria file with one long white-tipped fingernail. “This is one of those… lost causes. They won’t find a cure. Maybe not even a decent treatment. Certainly not in my lifetime and probably not in yours either.”

My eyes narrowed. “So we shouldn’t fund it?”

Her words tumbled out, “Oh, that’s not what I’m saying. But—”

“But what?” My face was getting hot. “We should just forget those children? Not help them?”

She let out a long breath. “YK is an industry that is all about progress. Development. Creating things today that weren’t there yesterday.” She looked sideways at the progeria file. “Some causes simply will not have that kind of progress.”

I shook my head. “What happened to trying? Not giving up?”

“Oh, softhearted, aren’t you?” She patted my hand. “But getting involved in causes like this”—she narrowed her eyes—“will only make you softer.”

I yanked my hand away and stood up so fast that I knocked over my coffee. As I tried to grab it, the file fell open, and all the fluttering papers hit the floor.

Ms. Greene made no move to pick up the mess. She sat there, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

I shoved the papers into a pile and set them back on the table. “Let’s get one thing clear. I want to see the Progeria Institute.” Then I picked the coffee cup off the floor, and slammed it on top of the papers. “Tomorrow.”

Her smile disappeared and I left.

I thought my little tantrum might backfire, but later that evening I got a call from Ms. Greene. Her tone was very formal. “Mr. Yanakakis, we’ve arranged for a car to pick you up at eight A.M. and take you to the Progeria Institute. The director has been informed you’re part of a program for exceptional high school students with an interest in medicine.”

I frowned. “And he’s fine with that?”

She cleared her throat. “I implied that YK was rather vested in the program, and that further funding might be related to this visit going well, so… yes. He’s fine with that. I told him your name was EJ.”

My initials . Elijah John . Clever. “Do I have a last name?”

“Smith.”

Not so clever. “What kind of stuff does he expect me to ask?”

She began talking faster, as if she had a million things to do and wanted to get the call over with. “Take a notebook. Make a show of writing information in it. And just ask whatever it is that you want to know. This is your game. Play it as you wish. You’re simply on a tour of the facility. Stick to my plan and I highly doubt anyone will suspect who you really are.”

“Thank you.” I felt a little bad about my attitude earlier in the day. “I appreciate you arranging this so quickly.”

She let out a harsh little breath. “You were quite clear about your wishes when you were in my office.”

There was no point in me making an enemy of her. “Still,” I said, “I appreciate your quick work. So… thank you. Again.”

“Of course.” Her tone had softened, but only slightly. “Please let me know if I can do anything else for you.”

In the morning after my run and shower, I went into my huge closet and looked at all the clothes hanging there. After so many years of wearing the same sweatpants and T-shirts, choosing clothes to wear every day was still something I hadn’t gotten used to. Hanging around the house made for easy choices, but what would an exceptional high school student wear?

I put on a black T-shirt, and then pulled a gray cashmere V-neck sweater over it. I’d seen Eddy wear a similar look one day, which is why I’d chosen the clothes during one of the online shopping sessions.

I ended up getting a bunch of clothes that were like some of his. Maybe it was because I liked them, but there was also another reason. Eddy just seemed to know what to wear, how to act, who to be. And even if I had ever known all that, I’d been out of the game for six years. So I kind of figured copying him would be a sure thing.

Then I grabbed some jeans and socks, slipped on a pair of low black Chuck Taylors. I stood in front of the mirror.

Exceptional high school student?

I shrugged. Maybe.

Teenage son of a billionaire?

I smiled. Obviously.

I had a quick breakfast of coffee and a banana. No one else was up besides Els.

As promised, a black sedan pulled in our gate at eight. There was a light drizzle so I jogged to the car, holding a leather journal and a pen in one hand. The driver was older, about fifty, with gray hair. He had just opened the back door on the passenger side when Lee showed up, putting himself between me and the car. Lee shut the door and turned to me. “I’ll take you in the SUV.”

I froze. “Why? This has all been arranged.”

Lee shrugged a bit. “Orders from your mother.”

The night before I’d told Mom about the whole thing. My shoulders slumped. No wonder she’d been so okay with it. She’d already been making plans to make sure she would be in control. “Fine.”

I headed over to the SUV and got in the front. I brushed a bit of rain off my face, and fastened my seat belt. Lee must have figured I was pissed off, because he didn’t try to start a conversation the entire ride.

I found it strange to be alone, none of my family with me. Rain started hitting the car window as we headed over the Hadley Memorial Bridge, a long floating bridge that connected Mercer Island to Seattle. Westbound, it ran parallel to the eastbound Murrow Memorial Bridge. At that time of the morning, the lanes were full of commuter traffic. The Progeria Institute was almost to Olympia, and rush hour slowed us down the entire way. I wondered whether Ms. Greene had scheduled the early appointment on purpose.

Finally, we drove through the gate of a complex of redbrick buildings, all surrounded by high metal fences with ornamental, yet deadly looking, spikes on top.

Lee took me all the way to the first building, and stopped at the end of a short sidewalk that led to a large set of glass doors. “Thanks,” I said, and reached for the door.

He held up his hand. “Hold on.” Then he got out, walked around to my side, and opened the door for me.

I dropped to the ground. “You’re not going in with me. I don’t care what my mom told you, but you will totally blow my cover if anyone sees you hulking beside me.” I swallowed. “No offense.”