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The thing about being IQ-smart was that it didn’t mean Conrad Harrington III was emotional smart. It was cliché, but his head and his heart often waged war against one another. Back at I.N.S.A.N.E., his head usually won. It had to; he had no other choice if he wanted to survive and hope to escape.
He spent his days in a stalemate with Dr. Hellion. Picking at his food so much so that he was bordering on malnutrition, nearly going insane himself being taught the same lesson plan, day in day out; watching as, one by one, his classmates “graduated” and left, a shell of their previous self. The only logical way out was through a flier and, when she eventually arrived, nothing went the way he initially planned.
But it worked out in the end. And it was for the better. After the entire ordeal that it was, Conrad was happy to say that his head and his heart finally agreed that getting everyone out and overthrowing Dr. Hellion was the right decision. He had just needed someone to push him out of his comfort zone. Out of the low risk, high success rate plans that awarded little, to the high risk, low success rate plans that awarded much. And, against all the odds, they escaped. Well, more like took over the institution, but it still meant that they were out.
The thing about being at the McCloud’s homestead meant that he no longer had to keep his guard up. He still had trouble reconciling with that fact. Waking up in the middle of the night, in a pool of sweat from a nightmare about I.N.S.A.N.E. or hunching over whatever he was working on, writing in code, afraid of prying eyes.
He could go out and watch the farm animals when he needed a break, a change of scenery. He busied himself with helping the McCloud’s farm and hung out with Piper and the rest of the former I.N.S.A.N.E. students; there was more than enough room at the McClouds.
Conrad found himself listening to his heart just a little more. It was exhilarating. He explored new hobbies (mostly farm-related), read as many books as he could without his vision going fuzzy from it being four in the morning—sci-fi, autobiographies, classics, fantasy, romance. Anything that drew his fancy. Anything that wasn’t the fifty-year-old encyclopedias I.N.S.A.N.E had owned, the only books in the entire building, the ones that were moth eaten and dog-eared and wrinkled, the ones Conrad had read cover-to-cover who knew how many times when he was bored and just needed something to read.
Piper was usually with him when she wasn’t in school during the day. They didn’t even always talk, which was a difference Conrad had noticed after they took over I.N.S.A.N.E. She was quieter, a little more reflective. Sometimes, they read their respective books in the same room—him whatever he had picked up, her her school textbooks. Other times he was in the lab, and she was close by, working on her homework. Of course, she still talked, filling up the space when Conrad was working on some experiment or another, over dinner with her mother and father and whoever was over on that particular day, or out at the myriad of picnics Lowland County seemed to organize.
Piper was open, kind, and empathetic. It was something he’d resented at I.N.S.A.N.E. If she hadn’t been that way, they would have escaped earlier—but just the two of them. She’d been annoying, always flying through his window at night, chatting his ear off as he tried to formulate some kind of plan since she insisted that he try to get everyone out.
Between then and now, he’d grown to like Piper. He liked the others too, of course—it just wasn’t something he’d cared to do while at I.N.S.A.N.E., form any kind of friendship. Why would he, when they’d just “graduate” out a year or two later and he’d still be stuck there? But Piper was different than the others; there was something between them that Conrad was too afraid to consider any further than feeling that something was there. His heart knew it, but his head didn’t want to say the word. Acknowledging it meant he had to think about it. Naming it gave it some validity. Conrad wasn’t sure he was ready for that yet.
Conrad worked with numbers. Science. Logic. One plus one equalled two (unless you asked Smitty who always responded with “window”). Emotions were fickle; they didn’t always make sense. And this...way he was feeling about Piper was something he’d never allowed himself to feel before. He’d never experienced it before coming from others, either. Living with his parents, he had learned quickly that he was just a party trick and, when he wasn’t, simply a burden. With Piper, he felt appreciated. Cared for. It was uncharted territory. The unknown. And Conrad was scared.
So he pretended those feelings—whatever they were—weren’t there. It was easy to occupy his mind with something to do. He was practically wired for it. Besides, Piper was often doing something too. During the school year, Piper was usually busy with schoolwork and Conrad always found something to do around the farm or in his lab. And in the summer, when Piper was free, most of the other kids stayed at the McClouds for longer periods of time instead of just the usual weekend sleepovers. So it was never just Conrad and Piper in the sweltering heat, with only the faint sounds of crickets waiting in anticipation, sensing something Conrad didn’t want to acknowledge.
The thing about ignoring or repressing feelings was that it did not work, no matter how hard one tried. And Conrad tried. He knew Piper well enough that completely shutting down when around her would be noticed immediately, so he tried his best to act normal. But he suddenly didn’t know what normal was. He couldn’t remember if he always had his hands in his pockets when she spoke to him or just let them dangle there. Had he always run his hand through his hair this often when talking to her? Did his heart always make itself known through loud thumps whenever he was near her?
His sleep was worse. He found himself constantly staying up later to read, waking up with his cheek to the page, just so he wouldn’t have to lay with his thoughts as he tried to fall asleep. Something he’d always considered an asset—his mind always turning, never shutting off—became his worst nightmare, sometimes quite literally since the nightmares occasionally returned. Dr. Hellion opening up his brain, the McClouds taking the form of his biological family and shunning him, Piper in the M.O.L.D with Jasper unable to help, running away from Dr. Hellion through I.N.S.A.N.E.’s maze of hallways, Piper in those leg braces, the look his father used to give him when he was a boy: disappointment, Piper falling, Piper dying, Piper, Piper, Piper.
It was when Conrad witnessed a private moment between Betty and Joe McCloud, her head on his shoulder, as they watched Piper disappear into a speck as she walked to school one morning, that something just switched in his head, a lightbulb going off. Betty said something to Joe, too quiet for Conrad to hear, and he silently took his wife’s hand, pulling her a little closer to him.
Conrad had never experienced that—a family who cared enough to watch their daughter go to school as she did every morning, five out of seven days of the week. It was something he’d given up hope on long ago. That kind of care and devotion.
But he had that now. He wasn’t Betty and Joe’s son, but they treated him like they did Piper. They made sure he wasn’t hungry, that he took breaks from the lab, always asking how his day went during supper. Even though they didn’t understand everything he talked about, they took the time to ask questions and learn.
His friends from I.N.S.A.N.E., too. As everyone grew older, they would inevitably see each other less and less as they pursued their different dreams. But they were bonded together from their time with Dr. Hellion.
And Piper.
The unknown scared him. He didn’t like risk. He didn’t like the thought of jeopardizing a friendship because he wanted something more. But he had helped overthrow Dr. Hellion’s institution, despite all the odds, and it had given him something infinitely better than if only he and Piper escaped, practical strangers.
The thing about Piper McCloud was that Conrad loved her.