Breakthrough by Jack Andraka Read Free Book Online

Photodynamic therapy has been around a long time, but it can be used only on cancers that are close to the skin’s surface. However, by taking semiconducting nanoparticles, which are just tiny particles that conduct electricity, and exposing them to certain wavelengths of light, Amy figured out that she could generate a form of oxygen that proves deadly to cancer cells. Once these nanoparticles are injected, they travel through the bloodstream or stay localized in tumor sites. The particles Amy developed allow doctors to use targeted light therapy to penetrate even deeper into the body, creating the possibility of treating a wider variety of cancers beneath the skin.
    All this from a kid not a whole lot older than I was.
    She was brilliant, bold, and, above all, dripping with creativity. All the things that I wanted to be. I began to think to myself—what if I worked really hard? What if I learned and thought like these incredible kids? Maybe one day I could go to ISEF too. Maybe one day I could do something that made a difference in the world like my new hero, Amy Chyao.
    I began to daydream about my science future.
    After winning the top prize for middle schoolers at I-SWEEEP, I expected to be greeted like a conquering hero upon my return to school, maybe not by Damien, but by the rest of the students.
    I was wrong.
    The more my science star was rising, the more I noticed a change in the attitude of a lot of my classmates. At first, I thought it was just in my head. But I began to realize it was a lot more than that. In my hypercompetitive school, resentment over my success was beginning to boil over.
    It seemed like overnight everything had changed. When I won an award for the first time in sixth grade, the kids at school seemed happy for me. But now, whenever I spoke about science fairs, I noticed that something seemed to change in the way the other kids looked at me. Instead of sharing in my joy, they seemed angry. I could hear kids whispering about me as I walked down the hall. I could see the smirks and grins out of the corner of my eye.
    No matter how many times I told myself I was being paranoid, the evidence kept piling up. During the third week of seventh grade, I walked into the cafeteria, sat my tray down at a table, and watched everyone sitting at the table get up and move. They offered no explanation. They just didn’t want to be near me. I felt invisible, like a ghost that people knew was around but didn’t want to acknowledge.
    Humiliated and wanting to avoid another horrible experiencelike that, I decided to skip lunch altogether. After the fourth-period bell rang, I followed all the other kids toward the cafeteria, then at the last second made a beeline straight to the boys’ bathroom. There I darted into the handicapped stall, locking the door behind me. Once safely inside, I sat on the toilet lid, unpacked my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and, using the toilet-paper dispenser as a lunch tray, ate my lunch quickly and quietly. Whenever anyone came to actually use the bathroom, it got particularly uncomfortable. I’d lift my feet up and stop chewing until they had finished their business.
    My appearance didn’t help. Remember that kid in middle school who had big, thick glasses, wore braces, and was always raising his hand in class? Yeah, that was me. To go along with those characteristics, I also had an unfortunate tendency to get sudden nosebleeds that seemed to happen at the worst-possible times. The small class size was a problem too. Being stuck with the same twenty-four kids for all three years of middle school meant that once you formed your reputation, it was impossible to wash off, no matter how hard you scrubbed.
    I thought that changing my style might help. I decided my shaggy hair was so nineties. My mom drove me to our local hair stylist. I asked her for a trendy new look. She gave me a bowl haircut. That haircut earned me the new nickname “Coconut