The Model Spy

Chapter 1 - Three Strikes

So I told my parents to take the job and head to Rio with its sandy beaches and golden sun. They were worried. My dad even had some friends of his add extra security around our house, so that it looked more like Fort Knox than a small house in the suburbs of Los Angeles. He expected a national disaster to occur in the four or five days he was gone. My mom, on the other hand, expected something way worse. She had seen way too many Lifetime movies about what happened when a teenager was left home alone. I could get kidnapped or murdered or I could be like any normal teenager and throw an awesome party.

Sometimes I couldn't believe her. I helped her and my dad catch bad guys all along the West Coast, from art thieves to political enemies. I knew how to hack into dangerous databases and I could drive the CIA's custom cars way better than kids my age could control their mom's minivan. And I always got my homework done on time. I wished my mom could just realize that she could trust me.

The morning my parents were supposed to leave, my dad sat at the kitchen table and took a sip of coffee, before pushing his glasses up the bridge his nose. They were much too big for him, something I told him often. He said they made him look like a family man, one that no one would expect to have CIA authorized stun gun strapped to his leg.

He kept an eye on my mother as she hurried around the kitchen. She was throwing last-minute gadgets into her purse. My dad was smiling slightly as he watched her. She was so beautiful. She always reminded me of an old-time actress, like Kathryn Grayson or Judy Garland. It was shock enough to strangers just to see that she was married to a nerdy guy like my dad. I couldn't even imagine their shock if they found out she was, at one time, one of the highest paid agents in the CIA.

"It's better that she's not coming," he said suddenly. My mom, who was in the middle of sniffing a bottle of strange green liquid, looked up at him. "We never did have a second honeymoon," he explained.

I had been sitting next to my dad at the table. I struggled to swallow my chocolate milk. My mom's face was red.

"I don't recall ever having a first," she said, her forehead crinkling as she pondered. "I mean, it was nice until that terrorist showed up and you went to the emergency room."

"We caught the guy. That's all that matters." My dad looked at his watch. "Fred expects us to be at the airbase in ninety minutes."

Fred was our boss. He was British, he was formal and always stuck to schedule. One minute late and his whole day would be ruined. It would be as if the world had tilted away from its orbit and was whirling aimlessly in the black void of space.

My mom, often the cause of Fred's time meltdowns, nodded as she set aside the green liquid and threw some gum into her purse. It wasn't regular gum. Once it was chewed, you could place it on just about anything and it would burn through it like acid rain did to a rain forest. I learned that out the hard way at my old school when my desk started to disintegrate. That was part of the reason they tried to expel me. The other part involved a pen that "accidently" shot a dart at my calculus teacher.

My mom picked up a stack of files. She swallowed hard. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

I nodded, thinking of the first thing I would do once they left. There was that girl I sat next to in my English class. She seemed cool and asked me what my plans were for the weekend. Maybe I could ask if she wanted to meet up for lunch somewhere and talk about the upcoming test. That was normal, right? That's how people made friends, without the use of force and blackmail, as was common in the spy industry?

"You know the emergency numbers?" My mom asked. "You know Fred's number?"

My dad came forward and pulled her away gently, towards the door. "Eighty-three minutes."