My Classified Life

Chapter Three: Do You Have An Icelandic Twin?

Once we got home after the long plane ride Christina went home and I was left alone to suffer under the comments from my sisters. They seemed to follow me around the house everywhere I went. If I watched TV, they said I was like the incompetent villain who loses every time.

“You know, Em. You remind me of Dr. Doofenshmirtz. You will always loose to Perry the Platypus.” she pointed to herself.

“You're a platypus? Hmm, that explains your face.”

It wasn't my best comeback but it got Brit to leave me alone. I moved around on the comfy sectional couch in front of the TV and put my feet up on the seat next to me. I settled into a warm blanket and I started flipping through the channels. The images flashed across the screen quickly and I began to fidget around in my seat.

“Ugg. I can't take it anymore.” I said out loud as I pushed myself off the couch and stormed upstairs. I marched through out kitchen past were Sammy was making a sandwich and into the upstairs family room were mom was lounging on a lazy boy and reading a novel.

“I want another chance.” I stood directly in front of her as she removed her reading glasses and looked up at me.

“I. Need. Another. Chance.”

“I'm afraid spies don't get second chances, Emily.” she states simply.

“Fine, another mission. A harder one, more dangerous, anything, please.”

“I wasn't planning on taking you anywhere for at least another week. You have a lot of training to go through before then.”

“Please mother. I'm begging you! This is going to drive me crazy!”

“You're going to be very jet lagged.”

“I don't care.”

“Very well, Reykjavik, tomorrow. Wear warm clothing.”

And then she returned to her novel and became as she had been before. I walked calmly out of the room and past a shocked Sammy in the kitchen. But once I hit the stairs, I couldn't help but skip down them.

　

I spent hours that day making sure I would have the right essentials. I packed a small satchel to wear over my shoulder full of things like scarves, hair bands, gloves, the spork from the last mission, duct tape, pliers, and a blond wig. I'd wear my skinny jeans with those boots I can run in and a warm winter jacket. I laid everything out on the dresser and went through every possible situation in my mind. I tried to stuff countless items into the satchel and ended up taking them out immediately. After what seemed like hours of this I finally settled on my original items and brushed my teeth and tried to go to bed. (which is much harder in the middle of the afternoon.) I dreamed about the mission the next day and woke up at 11:00 P.M., smiling.

I jumped out of bed and rushed into my adjoining bathroom and turned on the hot water and took possibly the fastest shower of my life. I dried off quickly with one of the soft orange towels and let my long curly brown hair air-dry. I dressed in my pre-determined outfit and put on light make up with eyeliner. I grabbed the satchel and walked up the stairs and into the kitchen for what would be my messed up breakfast. I paused as I walked in to the open kitchen, Christina was dressed in a similar outfit to mine and standing by the toaster making a Pop Tart when she turned and smiled at me.

“What are you doing here?”

“Geesh, hello to you, too.” she said in mock-hurt.

“You know what I mean.”

“Your mom invited me to go on the mission with you. Apparently we work well together.” She smiled as the toaster popped and she grabbed her breakfast and said “Hot! Hot!” and fanned her mouth when she took a bite. I laughed at her and grabbed my own hot fudge sundae Pop Tart and a glass for milk. Just as I was finishing my mom walked in through the hallway with her hands by her ear and putting her second pearl earring in. She was dressed in her Sunday best with a more casual black dress with boots. She looked to Christina and I standing my the island as she grabbed her matching purse.