Confessions of a Murder Suspect

57

Harry and I were breathless, panting like marathon runners near the end of the race. We were freaking out—because we were freaks.

We’d always known it, but until now, we hadn’t known why we were so different from everyone else. And now we knew.

Our parents had been dosing us with pharmaceutical drugs, messing with our minds and bodies our whole lives.

Harry stayed at the computer, opening files and reviewing them and sending things to his own e-mail address. And then he stopped on one file.

“Tandy, listen to this. Here’s a memo from dear old Uncle Peter to dear old Dad.”

So Uncle Peter knew about this, too?

“ ‘Regarding escalating drug protocols and increasing the percentage of SPD for Matthew.’ SPD for Matthew. Do you think that stands for speed?”

“XL could be excel,” I said, reading farther down the open page. “It says here that I was taking XL, Znth, Num, ProMax, and Lazr. Maybe Lazr stands for laser.”

“As in laser focus?”

“Could be, right?” I said.

“What did they do to us, Tandy? What did they do? ‘Are we not Men?’ ” Harry was quoting one of his favorite writers, H. G. Wells. In his novel The Island of Doctor Moreau, animals were changed into humans in a laboratory called the House of Pain—and if the animals didn’t obey the laws of the lab, they got really Big Chops.

So the Angel kids are bona fide characters in a science-fiction story? Even though I already had my suspicions about the pills, I felt dizzy with the shock of the truth. I grabbed a countertop to steady myself against the rush.

No, we were not men.

We’d been exploited, used without our knowledge or permission. We were lab rats to Malcolm and Peter, scientific works in progress, and there was no excuse in the world for it, even if they thought the drugs were for our own good.

Harry pulled up Matty’s chart and checked the uptick in SPD against the date of Peter’s memo. They matched. The drugs had been increased, and the line on Matty’s chart rose accordingly. The chart was still open on the computer screen when the door to the lab suddenly opened.

Harry and I both jumped guiltily—we were in Malcolm’s private room, and we still had the instinctive fear of a Big Chop.

Hugo stood in the doorway, and he didn’t seem very surprised at what he saw. “So,” said my little brother, “you guys finally found out Malcolm’s secret. It’s about time.”