Hello!! Sorry I’ve taken months, literally, to update; I was writing a fanfiction for my friend for Christmas (see my profile) and everything’s been crazy, naturally. So! Merry Christmas to all of you! This is your gift from me – hope you enjoy it, sorry again for the long wait! Hope you all have a blessed New Year full of good memories! :) All right, enough Hallmark moments. Please fan/vote/comment and all that good stuff as a little gift to me.
Gracias!! <3 vb123321
Chapter Nine
♥ Astrid ♥
The day was chaotic even before we left the basketball game. It started with the screaming McCormick family waking me at an early hour. I was used to sleeping in strange places, so I hardly thought twice about being on a basement floor with Josh five feet away from me, curled up in a Boy Scout sleeping bag. His hair was all in his face and he looked more peaceful than I had seen him in a long time.
It wouldn’t last.
Joel’s game was at ten, but he had to be at the gym at nine, and the McCormick family was in shambles. Courtney was complaining because she had a dance recital to go to that she claimed was much more important than the game, and Beth was agreeing with her, saying she didn’t like watching “stupid boys playing a stupid game, anyway.” Their parents looked frazzled, which didn’t seem to be too unusual for them, and after a quick shower and a bite to eat, I took matters into my own hands, offering to drive Joel to the game with Josh and leaving the others free to go to the recital.
Angie McCormick looked like she could’ve kissed me, asked Joel if he would be crushed if they didn’t go to his game – he shrugged it off – and then went on to remind him to eat a good breakfast if he wanted to perform well. He didn’t look like he needed any more energy; his hair was practically static with excitement and he was bouncing on the balls of his feet just standing there in the kitchen. It would have been annoying except for the fact that I was feeling too relieved that he hadn’t been traumatized by what we had told him the night before.
It was only when we had finally taken leave of the house, Joel had finished griping about the fact that he would probably never get his own car like we had, and we were cruising down the road that I relaxed. It had been late when I had finally gotten to bed, and while I had slept in worse places, the basement had been a bit chilly. Now, though, freshly showered and with a good, homemade breakfast in me, I felt like I could face anything.
Boy, was I wrong.
My hair fell around my shoulders and down my back as it dried, feeling strangely heavy; I couldn’t remember the last time I had worn it down. I was still in the same pair of jeans, sweatshirt, and jacket from yesterday, but something about changing your t-shirt really makes you feel fresher. Josh was in the same sweatpants and sweatshirt as well, his hair a curly mess above his forehead. He was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, humming some incomprehensible tune as his eyes flicked around in one-eighty surveillance. Training had long become second nature.
Joel sat in the backseat, chattering away about absolutely nothing, his leg jiggling tirelessly on the floor. He kept running his hands through his pale blonde hair, making it even more erratic, as if this would impress someone. All he could talk about was the game and how they were going to kick the other team’s ass, and how he hoped to see some girl play right before him. It was actually sort of pleasurable, hearing him prattle on endlessly; it felt normal. It was a Saturday morning; I was driving my neighbor to one of his basketball games.
My mind wandered back to the past few weeks, dwelling on Pierre’s words as he left. The thought made me clench my jaw; I firmly pushed it away. Clearly, we were over and done with. Had it ever been anything in the first place? And now Joel was in the picture…could this get any crazier? I was afraid to know the answer.
When we arrived at the gym, he hopped out immediately, swinging his duffel bag over his shoulders. He had a sweatshirt and pants on over his uniform, courtesy of his aunt, and he was nearly jumping up and down as he waited for us to get out as well and follow him inside. After directing us to the ticket stand and informing us that, yes, we did have to buy some, he disappeared in the direction of the locker rooms with a huge grin. I gave Josh a panicked look and he laughed.
“Come on, let’s get these tickets.”
He moved off in the direction of the ticket table as I stood in the hall, looking around me. What was it like to go to high school? Would I be going to this game with a different boy, someone I was dating? Pierre? – but that was ridiculous. I would never have even met Pierre if it wasn’t for Delta. And now he was gone anyway.
Josh gave me a beckoning look from the ticket line, and I shook myself out of my thoughts, joining him. He slung his arm around my shoulder, tucking my hair behind my ears and grinning at me. I gave him the strangest look I could muster and he started cracking up, covering his mouth with his free hand.
“Just wanted to see your reaction,” he managed to say. “It was worth it. You sure we can’t pretend to be dating? It would be so entertaining.”
I shrugged his arm off of me, stepping away. “Enough, buster. Calm your hormones.”
He laughed again as he pulled his wallet out of the drawstring bag he had thrown over his shoulder. Flipping a ten to the bored-looking high school kid, he grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the gym doors. I couldn’t help but laugh as I tugged mine out of his, punching his shoulder.
“Dork,” I muttered, and he grinned again.
We stepped into the gym, immediately blasted by a wave of heat and sweat and excited voices. Some girls’ team was playing on the court, their ponytails bouncing as they sped up and down the court. The bleachers were already packed for their game, but many people looked like they would be sticking around for quite a while. I glanced at my watch; only 9:15.
“Come on,” he said after a moment of us scanning the gym. We glanced at each other, both realizing that we had been doing this unconsciously, and he shook his head with a despairing look. “Would it kill us to be normal for once?”
I sighed, glancing towards the boys’ locker room. Their team was emerging, laughing and shoving each other around. Joel was at least four inches shorter than all of them and yet this was varsity; he had to be pretty good, then. He was jumping up and down excitedly, the others boys pushing him playfully against the padded walls and ruffling his hair with those older-brother looks that were becoming painfully familiar.
His face lit up as he saw us. He said something quickly to his team and then jogged over to where we were standing with a massive grin on his face. “You got in!” he cried, like we hadn’t driven him there and been directed by him to the ticket booth. “I can’t wait to start – this is such a great crowd!” He pushed his blonde hair out of his face so that it stuck up wildly, his blue eyes huge.
Josh was smiling, his hands deep in his pockets as he looked affectionately at Joel. He had always been in an only child, so I suppose the older brother in him was coming out a bit belatedly.
“Where’s this girl of yours?” he asked, glancing over at the basketball players. “One of them?”
Joel nodded, beaming, and pointed at a tall girl with long, dark hair, who was dribbling the ball up the court with an intense look, her ponytail flipping. “That’s her. Emily.” His eyes followed her down the court. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”
I smiled wryly. “Just beautiful. Isn’t she a bit tall for you?”
He looked a little hurt, but Josh clapped him on the shoulder. “She’s kidding; girls have a thing for shorter guys with spiky hair.” He barely held back a smirk at Joel’s frown of confusion. “Emily looks like a nice girl, stick with her. Maybe you’ll date her by senior year.” He laughed at the face Joel pulled, and then said, “Better get back to your team; your coach looks kind of annoyed.”
Joel glanced behind him and winced. “Yeah, you’re right. Get a good seat, right in the front center! It’ll be worth it!” He beamed once more, glanced at Emily, and then ran back to where he team was, almost tripping over one of the chairs on the sidelines. I couldn’t help laughing, shaking my head as one of his teammates steadied him. Josh looked highly amused, turning to the bleachers.
“Come on; let’s find a seat, then.”
I followed him around the court, my hands deep in my jacket pockets, which I kept on despite the warmth. My spine was prickling unpleasantly for a reason I couldn’t fathom, and I felt more comfortable knowing my gun was within reaching distance. Another was tucked inside my boot, where I could easily grab it. I could tell that Josh – whether he realized it or not – was feeling the same: his shoulders were so tense that I thought they might snap in half.
For the next half an hour, we watched as the girls won their game and Joel’s team, dressed in black, swept onto the court to begin practicing. Joel wasn’t doing much, just shooting occasionally – he never missed – and laughing with another dark-haired boy that seemed to be around his age. The other team, in royal blue, practiced on the other end, glancing at their opponents from time to time.
I was looking around the gym, scanning faces, although I wasn’t sure why. A woman in a grey suit kept looking over at me, her face confused, and though my nerves twitched, I told myself that it was simply because I kept looking at her. Josh, actually interested in basketball, was less distracted as he watched the teams warm up, occasionally saying something to me that I replied to in a vague way.
It was ten minutes before the game started that the woman stood up and began walking in our direction. All my instincts were screaming at me to whip out my gun, but I told myself to remain calm. She was a normal woman in a normal gym. What was the matter with me?
She came up to our row, stepping down it carefully. No one sat within a few feet of Josh and I. Her hair was a brown-grey mix, her blue eyes smiling at us as she sat down next to us. I gave her as polite a smile as I could muster, trying to figure out a nice way of asking her what the heck she was doing here.
Josh finally noticed her, giving her a wary look as she crossed her legs neatly, a smile on her face.
“Sorry to frighten you.” Her voice came out pleasantly enough, a middle-aged sounding voice that matched her prim grey suit and the stringed eyeglasses around her neck. “I just thought I recognized you.”
How? I was instantly suspicious but merely looked vague. “Sorry, I think you’re mistaken.”
The lady gave me a querying look, studying first me and then Josh. “Didn’t I see you walk in with Joel Nicholson?”
I nodded. “Yes, that’s right.” Where was she going with this? I hadn’t been around for seven years. She couldn’t recognize me. Shifting uncomfortably, I glanced at Josh, who shrugged minutely, looking bewildered as well.
“I’m his World History teacher,” she said in a warm voice, looking like she was getting comfortable there on the seat next to me. “My nephew is on the basketball team – the dark-haired boy over there – number fifteen, you see?” Once we had both nodded politely, she continued her monologue. “Jennifer Moran, I’m sure you remember that name? No? Well, I think I remember you. Astrid and Josh?”
My mouth remained shut with extreme difficulty as my mind whirled. I tried to force down the frantic feeling inside of me; this was ridiculous. Just some coincidence – it had nothing to do with anyway. “Um, sorry…” I kept my voice steady, though I could feel Josh tensing beside me as well. “But who exactly are you?”
“You don’t remember?” She looked wounded for a moment before smiling once more. “I guess it has been a while. Mrs. Moran, your third grade teacher? I had both of you, one year after another. I also taught Joel in third grade – I just recently moved up to teaching freshman year, you see – and his brother…Jay, I think?”
If anyone here wanted to know my life story, it looked like she had it. She must have seen the shock on our faces because she quickly added, “Don’t worry. I’m very good with names and faces; I’m renowned for it.”
But so was I, I thought suddenly, and I didn’t recall her at all. I could still remember my kindergarten teacher with clarity – she had made me sit in the corner for pulling another girl’s hair and she always wore her reading glasses on a chain decorated with apple-shaped beads – but this woman was not ringing a bell. I couldn’t push away the suspicion inside of me, but then Josh exclaimed,
“Mrs. Moran! Of course! You had the best treasure box – with those little dinosaur stuffed animals?”
She beamed. “Yes!”
I gave Josh a look; he shrugged. “Hey, I was in third grade.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling lost, “but I still don’t remember having you.”
Mrs. Moran studied me for a long moment, and then smiled. “Oh, of course. I never actually had you, dear. I just remember you being that girl who was always with Josh here. And didn’t you tell your physical education teacher that you never saw him running laps and demanded he did?” As my mouth fell open, she winked. “Teachers gossip, too, you know.”
My mind was blown. “But that was eight years ago!”
Josh looked at me incredulously. “How come I never heard about that one?”
“I think I heard about it enough for the two of us,” I mumbled, wincing at the memory. “Didn’t do that again too fast.” Even as they both laughed, I couldn’t wipe away my doubts about this Mrs. Moran character; why couldn’t I remember her more clearly? Still, if Josh did, surely she must be legitimate, I figured, and fixed a smile on my face as I thrust away these thoughts.
“And now you’re back to visit?” she was saying. Boy, she could talk. “Did Joel ask you to come?”
No, we had come from an espionage agency to check up with our families and hadn’t known about Joel because we had thought he was dead.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s right. For the holidays, you know.”
“Of course. How nice.”
An awkward pause followed, in which the scoreboard person began announcing that the game would start in two minutes. Mrs. Moran stood up, saying she was pleased to have seen us again and that she would be sitting a few rows away, to watch her nephew. We said good-bye as well, watching as she walked away from us. I bit my lip, twisting a strand of hair around my finger.
“I–”
“You don’t remember everything, Astrid.” Josh gave me a sly look. “You hate to be wrong, don’t you?”
“Did you remember her?” I snapped. “Took you a moment, didn’t it?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t at first, and to be honest, I still don’t really recognize her face. But, heck, that was years ago. Third grade. Man. Besides,” he shook his head briskly, “people change. Of course she looks different. And you know how I am with remembering faces.”
“But you’re not.” I stared at him. “Describe Michael Cloying – or Decrioux, as you know him.”
Josh gave me a strange look, glancing around him as though someone might have actually heard of this would-be President assassin. “Pretty tall, sandy hair, sort of a sharp face, if you know what I mean…icy eyes, but really dark. Black, almost. His eyes really hit you, like he’s seen a lot…” He stopped; I was nodding. “What?”
“Exactly my point,” I said grimly. “You remember him in that much detail and you’ve only seen a picture and description of him.”
He blinked, staring at me. “What are you–?”
“You do remember faces. So why don’t you remember Mrs. Moran’s?”
His breath whooshed out of him in a long, frustrated exhale. “Astrid, you’re reading way too much into this. You know that both of us didn’t care about grade school. Why would we remember any of it? I bet if I had asked you your most memorable PE memory fifteen minutes ago, you wouldn’t have been able to answer. Because you wouldn’t remember.”
I hesitated, and he patted my arm. “Don’t worry, you’re just going crazy and over-paranoid. It’s pretty common for teenaged spies, I promise.”
I shrugged, nettled, and he pushed my hair out of my face. “I gotta say, I’m surprised she recognized you. You look so different with your hair down.”
Rolling my eyes, I pointed out, “That’s only because you haven’t seen it down in, like, five years. She remembers me with pigtails and missing front teeth; I’m surprised she recognized me at all. That’s why I don’t like it.”
He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, shut up and watch the game.”
Feeling grumpy, I put my chin on my palm, allowing my hair to fall in a dark curtain around my face as I concentrated on the court. The teams were just coming out, and the crowd was cheering enthusiastically. Joel was practically jumping up and down as his team had a last-minute huddle and cheer, and then their five starters walked onto the court, their names announced by the scoreboard.
At Joel’s name, I cheered, smiling as he charged onto the court, did some confusing handshake with his coach, and joined the other four guys on his team. The other team was announced, and then the ball was thrown up for a jump start.
The game started at such an intense speed that I was forced to sit up straight to see what was going on. Joel’s center – easily six-three, dark-haired, and very attractive – snatched the ball out of the air, immediately passing it to another boy, who swept it in Joel’s direction. All this happened in about three seconds – and then I saw why Angie McCormick had called basketball Joel’s obsession.
The moment his fingers brushed the ball, he was flying, dribbling down the court at blinding speed, dodging opposing players before passing the ball to a teammate. I couldn’t help but admire the way Joel’s team worked together, flawlessly passing, spinning, defending, and shooting. Joel was everywhere at once, sprinting down the court, hurtling the ball high over the heads of the other team, snatching it up to shoot a three-pointer.
“My gosh,” Josh murmured. “He’s a freaking beast!”
I nodded agreement, riveted on a sports game for the first time in memory. He really was amazing, especially since he was several inches shorter than most everyone and at least a year younger than all. This almost seemed to help him as he ducked around defenders, slid past blocks, and passed to his teammates. I couldn’t believe the speed at which all the players were moving, their hands moving so rapidly that they were a blur.
Halftime came so quickly that I didn’t understand why they were stopping the game. Josh tugged at my sleeve, standing. “Come on, let’s find a drinking fountain somewhere, I’m dying.”
I stood as well, swinging my hair over my shoulder – it really was strange to wear it down – and following him down the bleachers. A group of boys whistled as I walked past, wiggling their eyebrows as I glanced at them. Resisting the urge to yank my gun out of my boot and freak them out, I looked to where Joel’s team had disappeared into the locker room.
“Are we allowed to go down there? I want to talk to Joel.”
Josh shrugged. “I dunno, but I doubt it. Wait until after the game to go after that hot center, okay?”
I made a face at him, and, laughing, he walked out of the gym into a hallway that had a sign with “Restrooms this way” on the opposite wall. He took a right and I caught up to him, shoving my hands into my pockets even though I was a little warm. The cold of my phone brushed my palm, and I brought it out of my pocket to see I had a few new messages. As few people actually had my number, I found this a tad surprising.
Scrolling through the texts as Josh stooped over the drinking fountain, I raised an eyebrow as “Darcy Jones” popped up. I should have guessed she would text me sooner or later. Ignoring it – I wasn’t sure I could deal with her at that moment – I glanced at the others, and froze.
Pierre.
He hadn’t texted me since he had left and he had the nerve to now?
Josh had straightened, giving me an odd look, and I shoved my phone back into my pocket, refusing to look at Pierre’s message. I didn’t want to see it anyway. Josh looked at me, his eyes asking if everything was okay, and I nodded, my hands back casually in my pockets.
His eyes flickered slightly, and I turned to see what he was looking at: The boys from the bleachers were walking towards us, pushing each other and snickering, and they glanced in my direction in what they clearly thought was a discreet manner. Rolling my eyes, I deliberately tossed my hair over my shoulder, putting one hand on my hip and turning back to Josh in a clear message of I-don’t-care. Maybe they would think he was my boyfriend.
Josh was grinning. “I’ve got some competition, I see. Maybe you shouldn’t wear such tight jeans, darling. Guys won’t check you out as much.” I made another face at him; he smirked. I tugged his arm impatiently, beginning to move back towards the gym.
“Come on, the game’s going to start. We don’t want to miss a single second; Joel will kill us.”
The second half was just starting as we found our seats again, Joel on the court once more. I felt a little bad for all the benched players, but they didn’t seem to mind, cheering on their teammates loudly. This half started as rapidly as the first, the players doing their thing with lightning speed and incredible skill, Joel dominating the court again. I marveled as I watched him, wondering how this was the disoriented, clumsy kid that I had met the night before. His face became very intense as he played, his hair sticking up like a brush, sweat shining on his skin, his blue eyes huge in concentration.
He looked like Jay did when he was in the field, being chased by flying bullets and jumping across rooftops and through alleyways. Closing my eyes for a split second to rid my mind of these things, I almost missed the first highlight of the game. With barely a minute left, Joel was in the process of making a spectacular layup, moving up to the hoop with effortless grace – until an opposing player slammed into him, sending him to the ground and the ball spinning away.
A huge chorus of boos rang out from the crowd as the player hopped to his feet, putting his hands in the air and shouting apologies. Josh stood up to get a better view of what was going on, looking furious and saying how obvious the foul had been. I grabbed the edge of his sweatshirt, pulling him back into his seat so that he wasn’t blocking my view of the court.
As the scoreboard called a timeout, the referee walked over to Joel, who had sat up and was clutching his wrist tightly. As he began speaking to him, Joel shook his head – emphatically – and immediately clambered to his feet. He seemed to be arguing with the referee, waving his hands around in some sort of gesture, and the man I recognized as the coach hurried over to them, joining the conference.
Joel looked upset and kept shaking his head. The coach laid a hand on his shoulder and spoke to the ref, who finally threw up his hands and walked away, conferring briefly with the man at the scoreboard before resuming his position. Joel’s coach talked with him a moment more before jogging back to his place at the sidelines, saying something to a concerned parent.
“Is he okay?” I asked Josh, who nodded slowly.
“Looks like they thought he was hurt, but he argued his way in.” He grinned over at me. “That kid is something else.”
Shaking my head in wonder, I watched as Joel, still obviously hurting from his full-on collision with the floor, was greeted with slaps on the back from his teammates as he lined up at the free throw line, both of which he made easily. Then, with a merely forty-seven seconds left in the game, play resumed. The ball moved up and down the court at least two dozen times as the seconds clicked down, the score tied, both teams growing frustrated as no one seemed to be able to score.
Two seconds…
Joel had the ball, not even at midcourt, his face so intense that I thought he was going to have a seizure. The crowd screamed the time to him as one, and in one last desperate move, he reared back and threw the ball over his head, his whole face contorting with the effort. The movement caused him to crash to the ground, and so he missed seeing whether or not his shot made it in.
Both teams stopped dead as the ball hurtled through the air, slammed into the backboard – and swished through the basket.
Someone whooped, before everyone realized what had happened, and then Joel’s entire team was running to him, pulling him up off the ground and practically mauling him as they tried to congratulate him. I couldn’t see his face through the mob that surrounded him, but Josh was almost hopping up and down in excitement himself. I was unable to hold back a smile of amusement at his interest in the game, although I was cheering and clapping along with the rest of the crowd.
As the team went through their victory lap, Joel looking dazed, shook hands with the other team, and disappeared into the locker room, I glanced around the gym. That woman, Mrs. Moran, was talking with another man in jeans and a casual jacket, who glanced up in our direction. Something flipped in my stomach, but I ignored this, instead asking Josh if we could go to the locker rooms now. He agreed, and we started down the bleachers again.
“See you, dears!” called Mrs. Moran from next to the man, and we waved to her, forcing smiles on our faces. The guy next to her looked at us impassively, saying something to her that I couldn’t hear as we moved away. Brushing past a heavyset man in a Michigan hoodie, I followed Josh around the court to the door of the locker room. He pushed open the door, stepping inside, and was immediately greeted by some shouts that I couldn’t understand.
I stepped in after him, and the yells increased as the guys took me in with appreciative looks. The dark center was checking me out, I noticed with a slight smile, but I looked around for Joel.
“Is he okay?” I asked when I didn’t see him.
“No,” said a blonde-haired kid who looked to be around sixteen. He was leaning against a locker, shirtless and grinning at me. “No, I’m not okay, baby. But if you want to come with me – now, that would make me better.”
Some people snickered, but I just rolled my eyes, looking towards the coach, who gave his player a stern look. “No flirting, man, what did I tell you?” He waved down all the shouts of objection, looking over at me. “What were you thinking, coming in a boys’ locker room? Please don’t do that again. For your own good.”
“Sorry–” I began, but a boy with light-brown hair pointed at me suddenly, his mouth falling open.
“Astrid!”
Second time in a little more than an hour. “Um, yeah?” And then I could’ve kicked myself. There I was, obsessing over the fact that someone knew me, and yet I responded to my name willingly.
“I remember you now! We sat next to each other in, like, every class in third grade, remember? Getting in trouble with Mrs. Callaghan because we passed notes and she read that one where I asked you to meet me at the big rock at recess if you wanted to be my girlfriend?” His face moved for a moment and then he cracked up as I stared at him, at a loss for words. The rest of the team was laughing as well, and even the coach was struggling to hold back a smile.
“And did you?” asked Josh, smirking at me. “Meet him at the rock?”
“I did not,” I protested, but the boy cut me off.
“She did! She wouldn’t let me kiss her though.” He pouted for a moment, and then wiggled his eyebrows at me. “How about resolving that now?”
“Oh man,” I groaned as the entire locker room snorted with laughter. “I don’t even remember your…Oh.” It clicked, and I pulled a face. “Sam.”
“Yup.” He grinned at me. “Your first boyfriend.”
“Actually,” said Josh, clearly remembering Jay, but I smacked him on the shoulder. “Ow,” he complained, rubbing it. “I’m sorry that you were a little boy-crazy in your childhood. You’ve probably had more boyfriends than Taylor Swift. Imagine if you wrote songs on all of them!”
“We were both young when I first saw you,” sang the dark center, placing a hand over his heart. “I close my eyes and the flashback starts; we’re at the rock. You’re asking me to be your girlfriend…”
“What’s going on?”
Joel had finally emerged from an adjoining room, dressed in his sweats again and rubbing his face with a towel. He looked from his teammates, who were dying of laughter, to Josh and I, who were standing by the door. Josh had his hands over his mouth again because I was looking daggers at him, and Joel looked between us with a look of bewilderment.
“Nothing,” I snapped, slapping the back of Josh’s head. “Get out of it. Sam, I’m sorry, I’m sure our relationship was splendid, but it’s over. Cry me a river.” And as he sank to the ground, clutching his side from laughing so hard, and Joel looked from him to me with wide eyes, I sighed. “You okay, Joel? Great job with that shot – it was amazing.”
“Joel’s the man,” said the dark-haired center, crossing the room to put an arm around his shoulders. “He’s a demon on the court.”
Joel went red, looking pleased as the team shouted his name. “I’m not that good,” he mumbled, ducking his head in embarrassment. The center, clearly one of the captains and probably a senior, grinned at me and I almost blushed, training taking over and keeping my cheeks cool.
“How’s your arm?” asked Josh. “That looked pretty painful.”
“It’s fine.” Joel’s tone made it clear he had been asked that too many times. “It just hurt for a moment, really.”
“He’s a big kid,” mocked Sam from across the room, smirking. “No need to baby him, bro.”
“Shut up, Sam.” Now that I remembered who he was, and very vividly, I had no qualms about lack of politeness. “No one asked your opinion.”
“Ooh,” said someone from my right. “The sexual tension.”
“We met one of your teachers, Joel,” cut in Josh, sounding amused and putting a pacifying hand on my arm. “Apparently I had her in third grade, too. Mrs. Moran? Weird old thing.”
Joel’s eyes widened. “Moran came? Why would she do that?”
“Her nephew’s on the team, she told us,” I answered, pushing my hair back over my shoulder for the umpteenth time. I was really getting sick of it. “Which one of you would that be? Number fifteen or something?”
“Me,” said a sheepish-looking boy, raising a hand. “But she’s not here today; I know that for a fact.
My stomach flipped. “Can you describe your aunt for me?”
“What?” The boy looked confused. Josh gave me a side glance, but I ignored him, staring at the kid as my stomach churned uneasily. Joel’s brow was furrowing as he looked between us, shrugging out of the center’s arm to say,
“Astrid, what are you…?”
“Can you just tell me what she looks like?” None of the panic I was beginning to feel showed in my voice, but the boys still looked at me like I was crazy. Pasting a smile on my face, I added, “She said she remembered me, but I didn’t remember her at all, so I’m figuring she had the wrong person.”
“She’s really tall,” said the nephew slowly. “With blonde hair that’s in a pixie cut and…what?”
My face must have changed without my allowance, because my stomach had plummeted about a foot at his words. “Tall and blonde?” I whispered. “Mrs. Jennifer Moran?”
“Yeah.” Joel was shifting from foot to foot, giving me an apprehensive look. “I have her for World History now and had her in third grade. Worse luck. Do you remember her now?”
I looked at Josh, whose eyes had widened as well. My brain was fizzing; surely I was wrong, this was some mistake…my memory flicked to the man next to her, the way he had been standing – stiff and straight and with that particular stance of a man with – a shoulder holster. And maybe the man I had bumped into, and a couple of the others I had barely noticed hanging around the doors of the gym…
“Holy crap.”
My hands flew to my pockets before I remembered where I was. I grabbed at Josh’s arm but eye contact was enough for me to know what to do. Flashing a wide smile to the team and spitting out something witty that didn’t make sense but still made them laugh, I beckoned to Joel.
“Come on, your aunt said to be home ASAP, she just texted me.”
“What? No, she said I could–”
I glared at him for a split second so that his words froze in his mouth. “We have to leave now.” My voice stayed pleasant, but Joel gulped as he looked at my face, nodding swiftly and moving across the room to snatch up his duffle bag. The coach was giving me a strange look, and I apologized briefly, nearly colliding with the wall in my anxiety to get out. Joel’s teammates called out congratulations as he walked over to us, grinning and saying thanks with a red face.
“Come on,” I said tensely, holding open the locker room door for the two boys and then following them out. “What the heck are we going to do?”
“What’s going on?” Joel looked between the two of us. “What’s happening?”
“Astrid,” said Josh in a peculiar voice, and I did an immediate three-sixty. No one was in sight, but he was continuing. “What do we do with him? We can’t just leave him here; they know who he is and that he’s with us.”
“We need to move.” I was already striding down the hall towards the more deserted exit as calmly as I could. “We can worry about details later; right now, it’s crucial that we–”
“Astrid!”
I was already whipping my gun out of my jacket pocket, opting to leave the one in my boot alone. Joel cried out in shock, his eyes widening. Shoving him to the side, Josh pulled out his gun as well, his eyes suddenly wide and alert, his entire body tensed. “We need to get out now!” he hissed, already pushing a baffled Joel towards the exit. For some reason, he was holding his phone in his hand, his fingers somehow flying over the keys even though he was simultaneously doing about ten things.
“Where are they?” Clenching my fingers tightly around the barrel, I grabbed Joel’s arm because Josh was so distracted with whatever he was looking at on the screen on his phone. Joel was protesting loudly, but I ignored him, pulling him bodily towards the door while keeping as large a surveillance as I could.
“Coming out of the gym! Move! Now!”
I kicked open the door, pushed Joel out in front of me and held it open for Josh as he shoved his phone back in his pocket. My mouth going dry as I saw the bulky outlines of three men coming rapidly down the hallway, I yanked Joel upright as he staggered, beginning to sprint to the car. Josh covered me as I was shielding Joel, the men crashing through the doors as we ran down the sidewalk.
“Don’t shoot if you can help it!” I shouted to Josh, pulling out my keys. “We don’t need that kind of mess on our hands!”
The men weren’t either, I noticed distractedly as I pushed Joel in front of me – and then tripped over the curb. Sprawling to the ground, I propelled myself upwards immediately, Josh flashing me a look that screamed at me to move. My feet were already moving forward, but something grabbed at my hair, snatching it backwards so that I cried out in pain as I flew back. He then grabbed the back of my jacket, literally lifting me off my feet as my arms flailed wildly.
I could hear Josh yelling at Joel to get in the car. Hardly missing a beat, I tossed my keys in his direction, twisting roughly at the same time to slam my elbow into the guy’s nose. He bellowed something quite rude, but didn’t release his hold; it didn’t matter, because I was still moving. Jerking my leg back, I kicked it into his abdomen, and as he began to buckle, I bucked my head into his nose again. His grip on my jacket loosened and I wrenched out it, falling to the pavement with slightly bent knees.
The other men were reaching me now – hadn’t they been closer or had that little time passed? – and I wasted no time slamming my foot into the man’s crotch, his breath bursting out of him as his face began to turn red. It was clear he was a trained agent, though; he still reached for me through his pain, and I turned and sprinted the fifty meters to the car.
Josh had shoved Joel roughly into the backseat and was standing by the passenger side, waiting for me. I didn’t speak, just hopped into the driver’s seat as he slid into shotgun, slamming the door as I turned the key in the ignition. The men were pointing their guns at us now, still not shooting, and I smashed my foot down on the gas pedal, sending us jolting forward.
Joel cried out from the backseat as we hurtled down the exit drive at thirty miles an hour. I screeched into the perpendicular street with a sharp turn, pushing our speed up as cars honked. At that point, I couldn’t care less about the police or traffic laws – if they cared, they could dare to chase us.
They didn’t need to. The three men had somehow gotten into two different cars, presumably formerly parked behind us, and were already gaining on us; I could see their faces in my rearview mirror. Swearing, Josh wrenched around in his seat, looking for some way to dissuade them. I could see that Joel had flattened himself on the seat, his white face glancing up at me as I hurriedly moved my eyes back to the road.
“Lose them!” barked Josh.
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“Are you even at a legal age to drive?” demanded Joel, his voice unnaturally high, and I couldn’t help laughing despite the situation. I could feel the adrenaline beginning to course through me, sending the thrills of excitement and fear into my brain and setting my entire body on fire. The feeling never got old, even after seven years.
“Been driving since I was younger than you, kid,” I told him, that strange calm from the pulsing adrenaline taking over. I was in control now, rapidly twisting the wheel to take tight corners with ease, stamping the pedal down a little more as we moved closer and closer to the expressway. Joel groaned from the backseat, and Josh laughed even as his face grew tenser, a complete contrast to the composed feeling blossoming in me.
He was still gripping his gun painfully tight, probably getting neck pains from the way he kept swiveling. “We have to lose these motherfu–”
“TRUCKERS!” screamed Joel, and I nearly killed us as the brakes squealed.
“What the hell?”
His head popped up to look at me. “Don’t use such strong language. I know I swear, but I never drop the f-bomb. Say ‘mothertrucker’ instead.”
Something a lot worse escaped my mouth as I slammed on the gas pedal again, sending us swerving towards the expressway entrance. Josh was laughing again, completely at odds with the situation and the wild look on his face. His eyes moved back to the front and widened.
“Not the expressway! That’s the easiest way for them to follow us!”
“Well, I dunno!” We were already on it, me pressing the pedal to move us up to eighty miles an hour. “The streets around here are unfamiliar; we need to get out of the city!”
“What about the kid?”
“I’m not a kid!” protested Joel, sitting up with a terrified look.
I chanced looking over at Josh, who held my gaze for a few seconds before I switched back to the road, biting my lip as I swerved between cars that honked at me irritably. “I don’t know. What do we do with him?”
“We can worry about that when we lose him,” said Josh grimly, twisting in his seat again. “Get off at a random exit – really suddenly – maybe we can lose them in some side-streets.” And as I complied, “Joel, you know the side-streets at this exit – um, Somers Avenue?”
He nodded, eyes wide and clutching the side of the seat he was in. “Yeah, yeah.” His voice was breathless with fear. “Just get off somewhere. Jeez.” He blew out heavily through his mouth. “This is like a Jason Bourne car chase.”
“Just pray it doesn’t get that bloody,” I replied, shoving my tangled hair out of my face and kicking it up to ninety as we zoomed right towards an exit. Brakes squealed as other drives sounded their horns in protest, and Josh waved an apologetic hand that they probably missed as we sped up the exit ramp.
“Illegal,” muttered Joel. “Ramps are supposed to be forty at the most.” And when I met his eyes in the rearview mirror, he raised his hands defensively. “It’s the truth!”
“I don’t care, thanks.” Further proving this, I drove straight through a red light – Joel making a strangled noise as a car barely missed hitting us – and took a sharp turn into a little side-street. “All right, Joel, your turn to show us what you can do. You ever want to be a spy?”
“Yeah…”
“Then practice some rapid-navigation skills. Tell me when to turn and tell me quickly.”
“Um…” Josh coughed. “How about we just get a little lost first and then work on knowing where we are? He can’t do this.”
Joel dissented, but I agreed, proceeding to swerve and zigzag down random streets until we were well away from the expressway. Josh looked behind us the entire time, calling out which way to turn, while Joel put his head down again, complaining he felt sick to his stomach.
It took nearly half an hour, but finally the cars could not be seen anywhere in the area. We had lost them. I slowed down to a normal speed and then pulled over for a moment, wiping my brow and slumping back in my seat a little. The adrenaline was still moving through my veins and although I enjoyed the first few minutes of it, it could grow tiring, and so I forced myself to breathe slowly to calm myself down. Snatching at my hair, I managed to tame it into a long, dark French braid down my back, finally fed up with having it down now that it had almost killed me.
Josh, too, had fallen back in his seat, closing his eyes wearily. “Thank goodness that’s over,” he muttered.
I glanced at him, keeping my voice low. “Did you sleep all right last night?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Who are you, my mother?”
Joel was looking between the two of us with interest, his eyes big in his face. I couldn’t help wondering how he was taking in all of this; I would definitely have keeled over in shock by this point. However, he looked strangely composed, although a little cloud of worry was in his eyes and he appeared to be mulling something over. His mouth opened and closed a few times before I said gently,
“You okay there?”
He nodded, rubbing his nose awkwardly. “Yeah, um, that’s not really it… It’s, well, how am I going to get home? Sorry, but I – um – don’t actually know where I am at the moment. We are lost.”
Josh and I exchanged lifted eyebrows and then laughed. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not that concerned,” I said, grinning at Joel’s obvious relief. “I’m sure finding our way out of here wouldn’t be the most difficult thing to do. What’s more important is that we’re not sure what to do with you.”
“What to do with me?” He looked scared. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing bad,” Josh assured him. “Just…”
“What are we going to do about your family?” I decided to take initiative. As Joel looked confused, I elaborated. “Those men knew who you were. Moran, or whoever that was, said she saw us coming in with Joel Nicholson. This means they know who you live with and where they can find them. And they may not necessarily be completely friendly with this knowledge.”
Joel’s face was paling. “But – Aunt Angie and Uncle Dan and–”
“We know.” Josh looked weary. “But most likely, nothing will happen to them, if you don’t go back. They were probably after you and if you’re not there, then they won’t threaten your family. Probably.”
“But why were they after me?”
Josh looked over at me; I bit my lip. Switching to German, I said, “How much can we tell him without freaking him out? We can’t bring you-know-who into it…but it’s clear that–”
“–they were after Joel for Jay,” Josh agreed in German, looking grave. “Why else? So who could it be – would Delta stoop that low?”
“Stop it!” Joel complained, bouncing slightly on the seat. “Speak English!”
“Pierre’s agency?” I queried, switching to English. “But why would they want to know that?”
“Who even are they, anyway?” Josh shook his head. “I have my money on Delta, although it does sound weird…” He sighed. “This isn’t answering any questions. What do we do with the kid?”
“I’m not–”
“Why don’t we take him with us?” The words escaped my mouth before I realized what my brain was planning on saying. There was an instant silence; Joel’s hand flew to his mouth while Josh’s eyes practically popped out of his head. “Why not?” I pushed on, before they could say anything. “The kid’s got spy blood; you can’t deny that. Look how well he reacted to all of this. With some training, he’d be as good as us eventually.”
“You’re missing a key part of this,” said Josh through gritted teeth. “He isn’t trained. He will never be trained. There isn’t time for this, and we can’t endanger him by letting him come with us.”
“Hey!” Joel looked offended. “I’m right here! You could ask if I thought it was a good idea.” And when we glanced at him, he shrugged. “I’m in. I have my basketball bag right here; I can live off it for a month, what with everything Aunt Angie packs.” He rolled his eyes. “She’s such a mom.”
Frowning, Josh met my eyes, clearly thinking no, but I shrugged. “Why not?” I repeated, glancing at the blonde-haired kid. “I mean, we’ll have to somehow explain to his aunt and uncle, but we can worry about that later. We can watch over him. We’re not planning on doing anything super-dangerous, anyway, and if we do, we can ditch him at some police station or make him stay out of the way for a while.”
Joel winced. “Ouch. What am I, a toy?”
Josh was still looking at me. “Astrid,” he moved back to German, “he’s not Jay.”
“Oh, that was discreet,” I snapped in English. “Why do you always have to bring him up? I get it, thank you.”
“Are you willing to tell him the whole truth?” retorted Josh, still in German. “If you’re going to include him on this, you have to.”
“I will. Eventually.”
We glowered at each other for a moment, me feeling resentful for his bringing Jay up once more, especially in front of Joel, and him with an unhappy look in his blue-green eyes. I knew he didn’t like arguing with me, but I held stubbornly to my claim. This was not about Jay.
“When is eventually?” Josh’s voice was softer. “And did you consider the other angle?” He glanced at Joel, who was watching this exchange with an expression of utter bewilderment. “What if we run into you-know-who and he sees the kid? And then how do you explain to him – or are you planning to ‘eventually’ tell him, as well? Were those texts from him?”
Sometimes I forgot how keen his powers of observation were. I touched the cold case of my phone in my pocket, reminded of Pierre’s and Darcy’s texts. “Nein, they were not. I’ll look at them later. Who were yours from?”
He looked irritable. “Don’t change the subject, please. Did you or did you not think about the angle I just mentioned?”
I let my breath out in a hiss of frustration. “No, I didn’t, okay? But now I am, and I think we’ll just have to face that later on down the road, like we always do. What other arguments do you have that I can shoot down?”
He gave me a dry look and I smiled slightly. Sighing, he shook his head.
“I don’t like it,” he said in English, and I tried to look sympathetic. “Don’t give me that look, woman, you’re the cause of my need of sympathy.” Grinning, I patted his cheek while he cringed. “You’re so weird,” he grumbled, ducking his head. “What do we tell his aunt and uncle?”
“The truth,” I said simply. “Joel has spy blood; they’ll understand.”
“You think they’re just going to agree that easily?” asked Josh derisively. “You crazy or something, Astrid? It doesn’t just happen like that – and what about his school and his friends and his teachers? What will they think when he just leaves, that he went off to the same boarding school as his brother and neighbors?”
I shrugged. “Sure, why not? It makes sense.” And as he groaned, “Josh, you’re deliberately making this difficult. It’s not our problem, what people say. People are always going to say things no matter what. We can tell them that; they’ll just have to grow to accept it. And his family will understand…I hope.”
Josh looked uncertain. “Have we clarified what we’re telling them?”
A thought occurred to me, somewhat guiltily. “We can say we’re taking him to his brother,” I said in quiet German and watched the shock flare in his eyes. He immediately opened his mouth to protest, but I put my hand over it, glancing over at the lost-looking Joel. “We’re not, of course. But it will convince them.”
“Astrid…” Josh looked upset. “There’s an awful lot of lying going into this. I don’t like it.”
“Josh,” with impatience, “our entire lives are lies, if you think about it that way. I want the kid to come with us. He wants to. I think it’ll be a good experience for him, anyway, and maybe it’ll keep whatever agency that was out of Michigan. It could keep his family safe. It–”
“You’re making excuses,” Josh snapped and buried his face in his hands. “Astrid, we can’t do this. There’s no way we can endanger the kid.”
“I’m not a–”
“Shut up,” I told him, still looking at Josh. “And it’s not endangering him to leave him in Michigan? Don’t you agree that they were after him, not us? We might have been the side-show, but I think they were more interested in him.”
“We don’t know that.” Josh looked exasperated. “We can assume that, but we don’t know anything for sure. What, exactly, made this clear?” And as I hesitated, stymied, “I rest my case.”
“Josh.” I held his eyes. “Trust me on this one?”
He looked at me for a long, long moment. “Maybe we can give it a try,” he said at last, sighing. “I don’t know.”
“So I’m coming?” Joel sprang up from his seat, his head colliding with the ceiling of the car; wincing, he sank down again, looking eagerly at me.
Josh exhaled loudly. “There’s one condition. Did you pack your medication?”
“Josh!” I reprimanded, but Joel shrugged.
“Of course. I never go anywhere without it.”
“Good.” Josh hesitated. “All right – but I’m still thinking about it!” he added sharply as Joel let out a victory whoop. “But for now, while we find something to do, then whatever; yeah, you can come.”
“Yes!” Joel fist-pumped the air. “James Bond – watch out! Joel Nicholson is in town!”