My Classified Life

Chapter Fifteen: The Spawn And The Angel

Two days after our first lesson on hand fighting I woke up on a bright Wednesday morning to no alarm clock, no school lessons, and no one yelling at me to do something. I slipped out of bed at about 9 and put on some comfy shorts, a t-shirt, and an oversize hoodie on top for no apparent reason. I grabbed a book from my personal library and trudged downstairs and into the kitchen where I grabbed a hot fudge sundae Poptart. I looked in the fridge for something to drink and poured myself a large cup of grape juice and then slipped out the back screen door carefully and put my food and book down on a table before sitting in a large lawn chair on the porch.

The air was crisp outside with a bit of a chill that soothed me, the grass smelled of dew and the porch of sunlight drying the rain of the night before. I took a sip of the juice off the table and a bite of my Poptart before diving into the book I had selected, Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls. The pages of the book were slightly torn from all the other times I had read it and in the later chapters a person could find a few tear stains. I flipped open to the first page and began reading:

'When I left my office that beautiful spring day, I had no idea what was in store for me. To begin with, everything was too perfect for anything unusual to happen. It was like one of those days when a man feels good, feels like speaking to his neighbor, is glad to live in a country like ours, and proud of his government. You know what I mean, one of those rare days when everything is right and nothing is wrong...'

I paused and let out a sigh of contentment. I did know what one of those days felt like, I was having one right now. It was my kind of day. The weather was slightly cool, I was as comfortable as could be, I had slept in. I felt like no one could ruin the good mood I was in that day. No one.

Beside me the sliding door opened quickly and Sammy stepped out onto our wooden porch. Her hair was done and she looked ready to go somewhere in jeans and a Columbia Jacket. I rested the book on my lap and looked up to her.

“What is it?”

“Mom said you should probably go get packing.”

“For what?”

“Another mission, duh!” she said in a condescending tone.

“When?”

“Today. Plane leaves at 2:00.”

“Why am I always the last one to know about these things?”

“Because, you are always the last one up, Sleepy-pants!” She stepped back inside through the sliding door and shut it tightly.

I groaned slightly and returned to my for about an hour until it was 10:30 before I came inside and saw Brit standing in the kitchen and frying meat for lunch.

“Why does mom want us to pack already?” I said because I was thinking out loud.

Brit heard me and responded. “She said this mission is going to last days.” she stressed the word.

I stopped in my tracks. “Really? How many?”

“At least three.”

“Geesh. Probably should get packing then.”

I stomped upstairs and into my room where I dragged my large orange duffel bag out of my closet and set it on my bed. I had always been really bad at packing for trips because I always over-packed. I began to stuff 3 pairs of jeans, 4 pairs of shorts, sweatpants, 2 pairs of jean shorts, 2 jackets, 7 shirts, a ton of undergarments, about 14 pairs of socks, 3 pairs of shoes (formal, casual, and comfy), along with my toiletries like shampoo, make up, hair bands and etcetera. I was sitting on top of my bag trying to stuff it all when I finally gave up and decided that beside my super-stuffing method, this much stuff would not fit inside my duffel bag.