This Is Not a Werewolf Story by Sandra Evans Read Free Book Online Page B

soft carpet or lie on our stomachs or, if we get there early, flop in one of the big leather armchairs.
    Lately Dean Swift’s been talking about the human body. We’re studying cells and how every part of your body is made of them. There are skin cells and heart cells and eyeball cells. Mean Jack must have gotten extra fist cells. Tuffman got extra rude cells. Mary Anne must have gotten extra pretty cells. I must have gotten some extra weirdo cells.
    But then Dean Swift says something so interesting that I forget about Mary Anne and Tuffman. I don’t forget about the extra weirdo cells, though, because from what the dean says, I might be on to something.
    â€œThe center of each cell is called the nucleus. Now, in the nucleus of every cell, you will find your DNA. DNA is a code telling your body how you should look, and even how you should act. Have you ever seen a recipe in a cookbook? That is like your DNA,” he says. “And it is different for each human. Half of it comes from your mother and half of it comes from your father. It is the recipe for you .”
    I like how he always gives us a picture idea. I think of the cards in my mom’s old recipe box. I haven’t opened the box since we all lived together. But I imagine a million copies of one of those recipes, written out in her handwriting, floating around everywhere in me. Kid-Kebab. Raul Stew.
    â€œScientists have begun to map the human genome. It will take many generations to fully understand. It’s a bit like cracking a secret code.”
    Then he stops talking. He sits there with his mouth open and no words coming out.
    When Dean Swift stops talking, it means that in a minute or two he is going to tell us something he didn’t mean to tell us. It’s something he doesn’t know yet but is trying to understand. It has nothing to do with the learning target. And it’s always the most interesting thing anyone will say to me all day long.
    â€œI wonder. Do you know there is another kind of DNA?” he says slowly. “It’s a DNA we get only fromour mothers. It’s in each cell but outside the nucleus. It’s a shorter code than the DNA inside the nucleus. It’s a special recipe that tells your cells how to turn the food you eat into energy.” He writes mtDNA on the board. “It’s called mitochondrial DNA, but we write it like that. And you only get it from your mother.”
    He stands and walks to the window that looks out over the ravine. I get a shiver, the kind I usually get when I’m deep in White Deer Woods and I’m me but not myself. My spine sparks like it does when I change.
    â€œThis kind of DNA you get from your mother has to do with your body’s growth and development,” he says. “Sometimes there are mutations. That means changes.” He turns around and looks right at me—or right through me. “They only happen very rarely. That mutation will be handed down from mother to child. We know about the problems such mutations might cause. They affect vision and hearing, muscles, and the heart in particular.” He pauses and shakes his head. “But we don’t know if there are mutations that cause improvements in hearing and vision, greater muscle strength, or a heart that beats harder and stronger and longer. We don’t know about that because there are no documented studies on that. Not yet, anyhow.”
    He sits down and looks at me. This time I’m sure he sees me. “Scientists don’t really know what gifts our mothers have given us. Only we do.”
    Dean Swift really has a way with words sometimes.
    I look down, because my eyes are saying too much. Maybe Dean Swift guessed how much the new kid coming today reminds me of the first day I came here and how sad and lost I felt. He wants me to know my mom is everywhere inside me all of the time. That it’s not just words; it’s science.
    The bell rings and we pick up