Page 77 of Can't Fight It

I’ll have to take her word for it. “Okay, what are polymorphisms?”

“Mutations in more than one percent of the population.”

Mutations?

I flip through again. “What’s one thing that doesn’t change even as you develop new physical and behavioral characteristics?”

“Your genotype. Well, unless you have a mutation.”

“What do you mean by mutation? Like comic book stuff?”

She laughs. “No. If you fall in a radioactive vat, you’re more likely to die from complications than suddenly have super strength or whatever. But mutations happen all the time. They’re happening within us right now.”

“I’m… mutating?”

“Yeah. They’re technically called gene variants. Every time your body creates new cells, there’s a chance they’ll change slightly when they divide and multiply. Usually, the change is detected and repaired, and if not, the cell will die. But if it doesn’t and those variants create new cells of their own, that’s when trouble can happen.”

“What kind of trouble?” Back in high school, I tuned out most things my teachers said, but I don’t remember anyone talking about stuff like this.

“Cancer is the most common gene variant.”

“So… your body’s making cancer cells all the time and there’s nothing you can do about it?”

She winces. “I mean, you can limit your exposure to the things that cause mutations. UV rays, cigarettes, radiation. Stuff like that.”

The last two aren’t a problem, but should I start wearing sunscreen?

Nah, I probably won’t.

“How do you remember all this?”

She shrugs. “It’s interesting to me.”

“Aren’t you a psychology major, though? This is biology you’re talking about, right?”

“Well, there’s a lot of overlap between the processes of the body and how it affects the mind. I mean, look at the study you’re in and the relaxation techniques. The way your muscles are contracting and releasing has a direct correlation with your perceived stress levels.”

“Is that the kind of stuff you want to study when you go to grad school?”

“Yeah, I’d love to get into a program where I could do that sort of research.”

God, she’s so fucking smart. How could I ever keep up with her?

“What is it?” she asks, her brows knit together.

Shit. Did I make a face or something?

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

She nudges my arm. “No, really. Tell me.”

“I just…” I wipe a suddenly sweaty palm down my leg. “I have no idea what this stuff means. These questions I’m asking you.” I hold up the binder, as if it holds the secrets to the universe. “You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met.”

Her head tilts to the side. “Okay, first of all, I find it refreshing that you’re not pretending to understand it.”

“What?”

She rolls her eyes. “Do you know how many times I’ve worked on group projects and a guy takes charge and acts like he knows everything? And then halfway through when it becomes embarrassingly obvious that he’s full of shit, someone else has to redo it all. Usually me. So, I’m just saying I appreciate that you’re not so egotistical you can’t admit when you’re out of your league with something, you know?”

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