Our way home seemed to drag on forever. My usual happy-go-lucky demeanor that I kept up whenever I was around my girlfriends was far too difficult to uphold whilst my mind was running a mile a minute with the endless possibilities I could be facing when I arrived at home, and my lack of enthusiasm in our conversations didn’t go unnoticed by my friends. My stress was blatant, and I’m sure they wanted to say something about it but decided not to after my quick brushing off of the matter earlier in the afternoon. I could tell, though, that they were concerned. As we pulled up to my house I graciously thanked Rosaline’s mom for the ride and got out of the car, unhitching my bike from the back of her SUV. I walked slowly to the front door, turning around to wave my friends off before entering the house. I was once again very aware that each step I took was bringing me closer to the crazy, fast-paced life that existed in a whole other realm than that in which I visited the mall and went to school with my friends. I opened the door cautiously, anticipating the uncertainty that was already beginning to consume me. God, the back and forth of this whole operation was beginning to get the best of me.
Nothing seemed different. The house looked almost exactly how I remembered aside from the dim light of nighttime coming through the bay window in the main room. The lack of scenery change was expected, but what I didn’t expect was the lack of change in the emotional atmosphere of my home. It was still warm and inviting, the faint waft of freshly baked cookies made its way to my nose as I closed the front door. I expected my return home to consist of strictly business, and that I would feel cut off from the outside world as soon as I was safely inside. I expected paperwork and assignment folders, not chocolate chip cookies. But it still felt like home.
I walked upstairs and set the house key on the banister. I smiled to myself when I noticed Bryce’s pirate ship left out in the middle of the living room. He was always leaving his toys about and I was always chasing after him and demanding that he learn to pick up after himself.
“Hannah!” he screamed, running out to greet me, “Hannah, Hannah, Hannah!”
“Hey bud, how are you?” I answered, trying to sound cheerful whilst feeling anything but.
“Good. Nana’s downstairs. She’s leavin’ now you’re here, right Hannah?”
Nana was Bryce’s babysitter. A nanny for when I was at school- or work- and my mom was at the hospital, either on call or on her scheduled time in the office. She was a sweet old woman, short in stature and temper, with long dark hair and a thick Spanish accent. Her aura seemed to always give off calm and loving vibes no matter what situation she was dealing with, unless you somehow managed to get on her bad side. Bryce absolutely adored her. I hesitated while I recalled the brief conversation I had with Michael over the phone. Usually I would take over babysitting duties when I returned home and my mom worked the late shift, like today, but things had changed. I doubt Nana was aware of the situation because I had only just learned of it less than an hour ago, but I also doubt she will want to watch Bryce for any extended period of time unplanned. The only option then would be to take him with me. How was I supposed to make it to San Diego for my assignment with my little brother tagging along?
“Um, yeah,” I finally replied, “Since I’m home. Gracias, Nana!” I said louder, as Nana came up the stairs.
“Guess we’ll see you Tuesday then, right Nan?”
“I will most likely be needed again before Tuesday, Hannah,” She replied with a knowing smirk. Of course, she was well aware of what it was I did in my free time and what specific details that need not be shared with my mom. I smiled. A huge benefit to having a former CIA agent as a babysitter for Bryce was that Nana probably knows more than I do about who I worked for and knows enough about the field to make me at ease with her watching my little brother. After she retired from the CIA she came to work as a caretaker for the younger agents like myself. While I needed a certain amount of watching over when I first started working for the FSS I was a quick learner and didn’t divulge any information to my mom that she didn’t need to know. When her assistance with my personal protection was no longer needed, she signed on to a long-term contract to watch over my family whenever I was gone. As a federal agent I tend to rack up a long list of enemies, and Nana was here to ensure that none of them attempted to attack my family. That was a convenient additive to the babysitting gig she used as cover for watching over Bryce and my mom.
“And my mom…?” I asked, hoping that she would clue me in on what I was to do with Bryce.
“I believe your mother will follow her usual work schedule. She works the late shift tonight and won’t be back home until tomorrow afternoon.” She answered, cluing me in on nothing. She probably had no idea, then, what I was trying to ask her. “Hasta Luego, Bryce!” She called, leaving me with little information as to the whereabouts of my mother or the plan for dealing with Bryce. Awesome, I thought sarcastically.
“Bye Nana!” Bryce called after her.
Once Nana had securely shut the door behind her, I got to work. I packed all of the necessities: clothes, hair wash, my Ruger LCP semi-automatic pistol, etc. as fast as I could and called my agent about our flight departure and arrival time. He explained the basics: that I would be staying at the Hilton and riding on a private plane once I arrived at the FSS headquarters in Minnesota. He explained in detail what I was expected to do and when I was expected to be where, in his typical semi-sarcastic manner.
“Okay. And Bryce?” I asked timidly over the phone, feeling guilty that I was involving my brother in one of my assignments. “My mom is working the late shift again and I can’t leave him on his own…”
“The well-being of your brother will be taken care of, Hannah. He will arrive at HQ with you and from there we will determine what will be done to maintain his complete safety.
“What kind of measures will be taken to maintain my brother’s safety?” I asked worriedly, then concerned with the seriousness of my mission.
“That is something that can only be discussed once you have safely arrived at headquarters. Finish your packing, Hannah. We’ll meet you at the airport once your flight lands.”
“Thanks Michael. See you then.” Putting aside my concern for not only my brother’s safety but also my own, I allowed the conversation to cease and decided to trust Michael’s judgment. It was the only thing I could really do at that point, anyway.
As I scrambled around my room finding and packing all that I needed I reminisced on my first year with the Federal Secret Service. The summer before entering fifth grade, shortly after I had turned eleven, my mom agreed to sign me up for a self-defense camp in Minnesota. I had begged her for months to sign me up for the camp. Despite my persuasion tactic of telling her how much I felt I could benefit from the “learning experience,” in truth I was only so interested because of the prospect of meeting my father. In the eight or so years I remembered living with my mom I had only seen my dad twice. My first encounter I’m not even sure my mom knew about, seeing him at the grocery store eying both me and my mom with concern. The second encounter took place shortly after Bryce was born.
There were many phone calls exchanged between my parents, my dad never calling from the same number. One phone conversation I had overheard was my mom yelling at my dad about never being around and hating that she could never get a hold of him. That’s when I conveniently overheard all about his moving to Minnesota and that he was working with a local camp, in a permanent residence. From that moment on, the thought of meeting my father and bringing to his attention how much hurt he had caused our family never left my mind.
The thrill of actually seeing him face to face was enough to make me giddy. I wanted him to realize all that he put my mom through. He could never understand the amount of hurt he caused her. I was so sure of my opinion of him, and how much I hated him; when I didn’t even know half of the story.
When I showed up to the camp, however, meeting my father was the last thing on my mind. My mom left me at the camp thinking I was perfectly safe and I assured her I would be fine. I was immediately brought to my cabin and introduced to my counselor. We hit it off right away, along with the rest of the girls in my cabin, and that week I had the time of my life. Time flew by and the week was over before I knew it. Then, on the last day of camp, the director of the program called me to his office to speak with me privately. He introduced himself as Michael Banton and explained to me that my self-defense skills were exceptional, and that he looked forward to having me back next year. I was on cloud nine the whole rest of the day thanks to his extreme compliment.
The whole way home I couldn’t stop talking about how much fun I had, and I had a blast showing off all of the cool tricks I learned to my friends. Then two days later, I received a call from Michael. As it turns out, Michael was working as a scout for the Federal Secret Service at the camp that I attended. My ‘exceptional skills’ were what they were looking for at the FSS and Michael contacted me to enlist in their training.
I spent the following year learning strategy and strength technique at the FSS headquarters.
Countless weekends spent at a friend’s house or on my aunt’s farm were actually spent in Minnesota and Washington D.C, training to become one of the nation’s top undercover agents.
Ever since then I have been heavily involved with the agency and have become a huge voice in governmental matters as well as many issues within the FSS. Now, four years later, my life is completely centered around my job and I have no social life. All of my friends think I’m a total nerd and spend all of my free time doing homework and research. My mom on the other hand believes I am the most social teenager on the planet and spend all of my free time with my friends. No one but Michael, Nana and the others within the FSS know what I really do in my ‘free time.’