Breakthrough (15 page)

When my alarm went off the next morning, I was wearing the same hoodie as the day before. I was not convinced that I had slept at all. And then the events of the day before struck me like a bolt of lightning, zapping me out of bed.

Did it happen?

Did I dream it?

Did I really make a test that works?

I unzipped my backpack, which was sitting beside my bed, pulled out the notebook I used to graph my calculations, and began flipping through the pages.

There it was! My graph of the measurements of the electrical currents.

I pulled out my calculator and ran the numbers again. They all checked out.

I ran downstairs. My dad was standing in the kitchen, giving me a knowing look.

“Late night?” He smiled at me over his newspaper.

It was—and it wouldn't be the last.

Just because I had detected mesothelin in artificial samples didn't mean my work at the lab was finished. I still needed to find out if my test would show my biomarker in human pancreatic tumors, too.

I fired off an email to Dr. Maitra, letting him know about my findings in the artificial samples and, more important, that I needed new supplies to begin testing for human tumors. He agreed to set me up with what I needed, but not before telling me how proud he was of my success.

Wow, great job, Jack, this is really exciting,
he wrote.

However, this next step wouldn't be without drama. We had to use live mice. As a ferret owner, I am easily attached to anything small and furry. The worst part of the entire experience may have been when we needed to euthanize the mice with gas. I couldn't be in the same room. I had to walk down the hall.

In January I was able to replicate in the human samples what I had done with the artificial ones. Now it was time to shift gears. This
year the International Science and Engineering Fair was going to be held on May 12, in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. That meant I had four months to prepare.

I'd been dreaming about that competition for years. As the world's largest high school science research competition, to me it was like the Super Bowl, World Series, NBA Finals, Stanley Cup, and Olympics all rolled into one and multiplied by a factor of three.

But ISEF is
way
more than just some big science fair—it is also a huge six-day celebration of science, math, and technology, where young scientists get together to talk about and share their ideas and experiences. Basically, my concept of heaven on earth.

The competition at ISEF is fiercer than anything I have ever experienced. The field of contestants is pulled from seven million high school students from around the globe. Only the 1,800 winners of local, regional, state, and national competitions are invited to participate. All these kids bring mind-blowing projects deserving of recognition. I couldn't think of a better venue anywhere in the world to showcase my new discovery.

As soon as I had wrapped up my work at the lab, I began the task of preparing my findings for the science fair circuit. A good presentation was one that took complicated science and turned it into a story that engages people. And I didn't want merely a good presentation; I wanted a great one. I titled my project “A Novel Paper Sensor for the Detection of Pancreatic Cancer.”

Before I brought my project to ISEF, I wanted more practice. I began to research other science fairs, trying to find ones that fit my schedule so I'd have enough time to prepare and coordinate travel. I tried to hit as many as possible to practice for ISEF.

I went first to the Hopkins Science Competition. I had never been, but knew it had a sterling reputation. The fair was a great test to see how my project measured against stiffer competition. Here I went head-to-head with a lot of brilliant graduate researchers who were much more experienced and older than I was.

After setting up my display, I began to see many familiar faces, but I couldn't place them. All of a sudden I realized that I was recognizing the doctors who had rejected me. There they were, milling around the convention floor and supporting many of my competitors who were under their tutelage. Others were even working as judges.

My face turned red with anger. I flashed back to some of the rude rejection letters that trashed me and my ideas. I wanted them to know that I wasn't just some child who had been wasting their time. My ideas mattered too. At the awards ceremony, I had convinced myself that the deck was stacked against me. I thought the merit of my findings would be overlooked because of my young age. I was shocked when they announced that I had won. Judging by the look on my parents' faces, I wasn't the only one.

Maybe, I thought, these doctors weren't as bad as I thought. I lingered a little longer than I should have, hoping that one would offer
congratulations on my victory. Not one did.

It was great to get that victory, but, more than anything, I was focused on ISEF. I knew that if I was to have any hope of pushing my project out of the world of theory and onto pharmacy shelves, where it could actually help people, I needed some help from the mainstream science community.

I was proud of all my middle school projects, but the truth was that not one had actually been implemented in the real world yet. Maybe, I thought, if other scientists could see what I had done with pancreatic cancer, they could help push my project up the ladder.

Meanwhile, at school, I felt I was living the life of a double agent.

I went to class, did my homework, and hung out with Chloe. I quietly went through the daily installments of my existence. However, inside, my mind was in turmoil.

This test can save lives.

This test can end pancreatic cancer as we know it.

If this test had been around, maybe Uncle Ted would still be alive.

I had begun eating, drinking, and sleeping ISEF. I found myself mentally checking out during class while preparing my project speech over and over again in my head.

“Jack, any thoughts on the algorithm?”

“Uhhh.”

“Jack, are you with us?”

“Sorry.”

I floated through school in a daze until finally the morning came when my mom and I piled into our beat-up station wagon to set off on our journey to Pittsburgh. My dad and brother followed closely behind.

By the time we got into our hotel room it was late, but I could barely sleep. I kept playing and replaying all the different videos of ISEF award ceremonies from years past. The next morning, I woke up too excited to eat breakfast.

When I stepped into the convention hall, I felt the same rush I had as a seventh grader, tagging along with Luke. This was my dream. I headed straight for the registration booth.

Then . . . disaster struck. It all began with the simplest of questions.

“Could I see your identification, please?”

I knew that every competitor had to show a government ID to get into the conference. I checked my wallet. It wasn't there. I looked at my mom. She looked at me. Nothing. I had spent so much time focused on the actual event that I had completely forgotten the simple matter of getting through the front door.

“I forgot my ID,” I said.

Despite my best pathetic help-me smile, the all-business ISEF worker remained unmoved.

“Sorry, there is just no way I can let you in without identification,”
she told us, her voice kind but stern. “It is policy.”

I took a deep breath. There was no way I was turning back now. I knew there had to be
some
way to handle it. “Seriously,” I pleaded. “I mean, are a lot of bad people really trying to sneak into a science competition?” I fake laughed. Her face was a rock.

For the next hour, which should have been spent preparing, I instead found myself pleading with the ISEF registration staff that I belonged. The all-business worker and another man disappeared behind a mysterious curtain for what felt like forever, and when the two finally reemerged they handed over my registration material.

“Good luck, Mr. Andraka.”

As I put my official ISEF name tag on, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. For the first time, it all felt real.

Next, I was introduced to my fair coordinator, Valerie. All contestants were given a fair coordinator to guide them throughout the week. Valerie began giving me a tour, and showed me where to set up my display.

On the first day of the event, all the competitors are given a small cubicle-size space on the convention-room floor to showcase their experiments. The secret to a great display is to make sure it's both visually appealing and easy to understand. I used lots of colorful pictures and I broke my presentation down into different sections on methodology and data analysis. I included a part on the detection of mesothelin using antibodies too.

I felt confident, until I began to wander up and down the long rows of projects.

That person made a major breakthrough with Alzheimer's? How on earth am I going to top that?

That girl discovered a new protein cascade pathway. I don't even know what a protein cascade pathway is!

As I lay in bed that night, I mentally roamed the aisles of ISEF again, envisioning all the other projects and feeling less and less certain about my prospects. But when I woke the next morning, my optimism had returned. Day two was a free day for practicing our presentations and final inspections of our displays. As I rehearsed in front of my display, two kids, Bradley and Owen, wandered over to my booth to check out my project. They were both from New Jersey, and we hit it off right away. Later that night we all agreed to join up and go together to the pin exchange.

The ISEF pin exchange is kind of like the one they have at the Olympics where competitors from all around the world trade pins from their homelands. I brought a few dozen pins from Maryland, which had the shape of the state and an image of the Maryland flag, along with some Maryland-themed snow globes. I was able to trade for a Mexican sombrero and tons of interesting pins.

After the exchange, I was off with my new friends to the American Eagle Club, which Intel had rented out for the day to throw a giant party. You might think a dance with a bunch of science enthusiasts
would be really lame. You would be wrong! The center of the dance floor was quickly turned into a giant mosh pit. In our delirious state, Bradley, Owen, and I decided it would be a fantastic idea to make balloon DNA hats to wear on our heads as we danced.

It was late when we left the dance floor and walked back to our rooms. We started talking about past ISEF winners, and Owen mentioned how in the videos he had watched, they always looked so restrained and straight-faced as they accepted their awards. Some of them didn't even smile!

“That's so ridiculous,” I said. “These people are experiencing the greatest moments of their lives. They should show it!”

“If I won, I would cartwheel myself up to the stage,” Owen said.

We all laughed. That night we made a promise to one another: if any one of us was fortunate enough to win any awards, he wouldn't hold back. It was just shy of three in the morning when I finally stumbled into my room, exhausted from dancing.

The next thing I remember was a pounding. At first I thought it was coming from inside my head, but it was the door.

“Jack, where are you? You are going to be late!” Valerie shouted through the door.

Oh crap!

It was the most important day of the competition—judging day. My body felt like it had been run over by a truck from lack of sleep and bobbing up and down on the dance floor for so long. As I tried
to respond to Valerie, I realized I couldn't. I had lost my voice. I tried to tell her I was coming, but all that came out of my mouth was a bizarre, raspy croak.

A feeling of panic set in; while I had grown used to performing on little or no sleep, I didn't know sign language.

I opened the door and let her in. Unlike me, Valerie was super organized. She took one look at me and told me I needed electrolytes, immediately. She showed up two minutes later with three bottles of Gatorade.

“Drink,” she ordered.

I sprinted to the convention floor, lugging the drinks, as fast as humanly possible. Once I was fully hydrated, my voice came back, and just in time.

Thank God for Valerie!

My favorite part of any science fair was presenting my idea. I came to learn that there is really no gimmick or trick, just a few basic guidelines.

Steady eye contact.

Wide, toothy smile.

Good posture.

Most important, there is no substitute for sincere passion. That's just something you can't fake. When the doors opened and a flood of people rushed the floor, I went straight to work.

“Hi, my name is Jack Andraka. I'm from Crownsville, Maryland,
and I'm fifteen years old. I'm a freshman in high school.”

I reminded myself to be clear and concise. I imagined myself as a sort of carnival barker of science, where I sold my little stand of these important ideas to as many people as humanly possible.

“So basically what I've done here is create a paper sensor that can detect a wide array of diseases. Some notable examples include pancreatic cancer, ovarian cancer, and lung cancer. All these are life-threatening diseases where it's really crucial to detect them in their early stages, when survival rates are at their highest. I focused specifically on pancreatic cancer in this case because of its extremely low survival rates.

“So my paper sensor has single-walled carbon nanotubes, which are these atom-thick tubes of carbon, mixed with antibodies to this one cancer biomarker called mesothelin.”

As I spoke, more and more people began to crowd around my small cubicle. I remembered from that time when I came with Luke that one of the goals was to get a big crowd of people in front of your stand. Once you get that first small group, that crowd tends to have a chain reaction that attracts even more people. And the more people around your stand, the more the judges took notice.