Authors: Greg Logsted
“So let me
get this straight. You want to use
my
gym to teach
your
friends karate?”
I look Andy in the eye. I can’t tell if he’s actually mad or just giving me a hard time for the fun of it.
“Only if it’s okay with you.”
He stares off into the distance. I’m not sure why he’s giving so much thought to a simple yes or no question.
“Okay, here’s the deal: You can use the gym, but there are two conditions. Number one, everyone has to respect my gym, my house, and me.”
“Of course.”
“I don’t want my gym becoming party central. Understand?”
“Understood.”
“Number two, you and I need to have a long, honest talk about what’s going on around here and what’s this big secret you’re carrying around about your past.”
Now it’s my turn to stare off into the distance. My dad told me the only person in this world I should trust is him. He taught me to hold my cards firmly against my chest, to never reveal anything, but then again, he also said I should
always
trust my gut.
Like it or not, Andy is caught up in whatever is going on around here and I’m going to have to tell him
something
. It’s possible I’m even going to need his help. My gut tells me it’s time to talk, but to be careful.
I decide to just plunge in. It’s like swimming: If you spend too much time dipping your toes in the water, you never get in. “Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Okay, I’ll tell you about my past, but only if you promise not to tell anyone.”
He seems surprised. “I can agree to that. Let me get my sweatshirt. We can’t do it here. I’ll tell you why later.”
“What about my friends?”
“You brought your friends? They’re here now? You just assumed I would let them use my gym?”
“Um, yeah, I guess. Well, I didn’t
bring
them. They came over after detention.”
Andy rubs his eyes. He looks tired; maybe I woke him from a nap.
“Detention, huh? All of them had detention?”
“Yeah, but it was nothing serious—kind of my fault anyhow.”
He starts to yawn, moves his shoulders and stretches his back; it really does seem like he just woke up. “Have you even taught anyone karate before?”
“Um, no, but I was wondering…maybe, um, I guess I’ve got some ideas.”
He runs his hand through his hair and scratches the top of his head. “You’ve got some ideas? Maybe one of them was that I could help you?”
I smile. I try not to but it just tugs its way onto my face. “I was kinda hoping you could. That is, if you’re not too busy.”
For a moment it looks like he’s thinking about going back into the house and shutting the door in my face. We just stand there on his porch. Finally he starts to grin and shakes his head.
“What is it about you? You have this way of bending people…Okay, tell you what: I’ll give it a try. That’s all I’ll agree to. Why not? I haven’t had any luck finding a job. I’ve got to do something more than watching TV and sleeping or I’m going to go out of my mind.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything. Come on. Let’s go meet your friends before I change my mind.”
We walk around the side of the house and find them standing by the driveway. They all have their hands buried deep in their pockets. Some are kicking the ground and they don’t seem to know what to do with their eyes.
Andy nods. “Hello, boys.”
They mutter, “Hello, sir.”
“Cody tells me he’d like to teach you karate in my personal gym. Is that right?”
They grunt “Uh-huh,” nod their heads, and continue to avoid eye contact. Everyone seems very uncomfortable. Just to have something to do, I pick a broken branch off the driveway and toss it into the woods.
“Cody?”
Andy’s looking at me with a strange expression. I’m not sure what I did wrong. “Yeah?”
“What happened to your hands?”
I glance at them. They actually look worse than they did this afternoon. The scratch marks are red and swollen. “Nothing.”
I can hear the guys starting to snicker.
“No, really, what happened to your hands?”
“Um, I was playing football and I accidentally ran into a rosebush.”
Pogo Stick mumbles, “More like a hall full of mice.”
They all start to snort and giggle, desperately trying not to laugh out loud.
I pretend I didn’t hear anything. How did they know it was me?
I don’t think Andy appreciates inside jokes. He seems annoyed. His voice rises and there’s a sharp edge to it. “It doesn’t matter
what
happened, all that matters is that you do something about it. You don’t want that to get all infected, do you? When you get inside put some peroxide on it. Got it?”
“Okay.”
He raises his chin at me. “Now, why don’t you introduce your friends?”
“Um, sure, let’s see, the tall guy, with the tape on his nose? That’s Billy, but everyone calls him Pogo Stick. That’s John, there’s Jay and Rob—everyone calls him Bop, no one knows why—those two are the Gomez brothers, Jose and Carlos, and over there, under the basketball net, that’s Frank.”
Andy clears his throat and gives everyone a weak smile. He seems a little nervous but I’m not sure why. “Nice to meet you. I’m not good with names so you might have to remind me later. Although, I think I’ll remember Pogo Stick and Bop. I’m sure Cody already told you but my name’s Andy.”
They all mutter hello.
“Let me show you the gym.”
We follow him around to the back of the house. I watch Pogo Stick and John exchange glances. John smiles and pulls his hand up into his sleeve and acts like he’s missing an arm.
Without turning around Andy says, “Guys, I lost an arm, not my eyes.”
John’s hand shoots down his sleeve and the smile disappears from his face. Pogo Stick grows serious and looks straight ahead. I’m about to laugh but manage to control myself.
The back door opens and we follow Andy into his basement. I watch the others for their reaction and I’m not surprised. From the outside it looks like just another normal house with just another basement, but once you walk through that door you cross into someplace special.
This time it’s Frank who voices the thoughts of the group. “This place is so cool.”
Andy seems pleased by their reactions. “Like I told Cody, you guys are welcome to use the gym as long as you treat it with respect. Think you can do that?”
They all nod.
“I’ve also agreed to help Cody teach self-defense techniques. I’m a trained instructor for the Army Rangers. I’ve served in Afghanistan and Iraq. If you guys are serious and willing to work hard I’ll get you into the best shape of your life.”
I
’m surprised at how much effort everyone put into everything. I had expected Pogo Stick and the guys to give up after fifteen minutes but they all stuck with it. Especially Frank. I thought he’d be the first to quit, but the guy just kept plodding along.
In the beginning I tried to teach them but it didn’t take the guys long to realize that Andy’s a far better teacher than I am. It just seems to come natural for him. By the end of the class he was barking out orders to everyone and they pushed themselves really hard to please him. I think seeing what he could do with only one arm inspired them to give it their all. I even found myself pushing harder than normal.
One thing I did notice right away. They’re going to need a whole lot of practice. Right now, I have serious doubts they’d be able to defend themselves against a Girl Scout troop.
It was a while before everyone left. No one seemed to want to go. A couple of the parents even had to come inside to get the guys. Pogo Stick’s mother came in still wearing her uniform. I thought she was a nurse but Pogo said she’s a dental hygienist. Bop’s dad stayed the longest; he huddled in the corner talking to Andy.
Frank was the last to leave. He gave me a thumbs-up and a smile when he walked out the door. I’m glad he came. He joked a lot and added something to the group with his determination.
“Want one?” Andy’s standing with a couple of cold water bottles in his hand.
“Sure.” I take one, unscrew the cap, and guzzle half the bottle. I guess I was thirsty.
“I think it’s time we had that talk.”
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, T-shirt wet with sweat,
water bottle in hand. I was prepared to tell him everything but now I’m wondering if that’s the right thing to do. What if it somehow makes everything worse?
It’s almost as if he reads my mind. “Don’t worry. I just want to know what you’ve got me caught up in. What we talk about stays between you and me. I give you my word on that.”
I blow out a long breath of air. I think about the man in black again. The way he glides through the woods, that huge gun he carries, the metal box. I’m tired of the constant paranoia, and why doesn’t my dad call me? I feel like I’m floating in the middle of the ocean with nothing in sight. I’m sick of having to deal with all of this by myself. I need help.
I keep my eyes on my reflection. “If you want to talk, I’ll talk, but you have to understand, it’s tough for me.”
A small degree of anger slips into his voice. “I get that, but it’s important for
you
to understand that I
have to know
what’s going on around here. Someone’s checking up on one of us. One of us might be in a great deal of danger. For our own protection we have to first figure out who.”
It never occurred to me that this might have something to do with Andy and nothing about me. But it could. That would explain why he hasn’t tried to involve the police or someone else. Maybe Andy’s got a secret he’s hiding, too.
“Okay, let’s talk. What do you want to know?”
He stands and slips his sweatshirt over his head. “Not here.
Let’s go for a slow jog. We can talk while we run. Got to be careful.”
We walk to the end of the driveway and take off down the street at a slow, even pace. At first, the sight of Andy jogging looks really strange to me. With only one arm there’s no even flow; it’s like watching a one-winged bird somehow fly.
When we’re about a half a mile from the house I say, “So what do you want to know?”
“I guess for starters: Where do you come from? Where did you used to live?”
“All over.”
“All over the country?”
“Not so much this country, mainly all over the world.”
He glances at me. “Where in the world?”
“I guess I’ve been everywhere. All the continents except Antarctica, although we once spent a couple weeks in Ushuaia, Argentina, which is fairly close; it’s the southernmost city in the world. I kind of liked it, although it was always cold and wet.”
“Sure, right, but where’s home? Where do you come back to?”
“Come back to? We don’t come back to any particular place. It’s just different hotels and rentals in different places, a week here, two weeks there. My dad says home is wherever we’re together.”
Andy jumps over a puddle of water. “So you’re saying you never had a real home?”
“I guess.”
“What about school?”
“My dad teaches me. We’ve got books. I’m almost done with high school. I’ve even studied a few college-level classes but they’re kinda tough.”
We run together in silence. Our bouncing shadows stretch before us like long, skinny giants. The thing is, I only studied one college class, political science; I don’t know why I said a few. I shouldn’t brag about something I didn’t do. What if I’m asked which classes I’ve studied?
He looks over at me for a while. “Okay, now here’s the big question…. What does your father do? And don’t tell me the import-export business. I don’t buy that.”
I stare at the road in front of us. This is the moment I’ve dreaded—answer this question and you can never take it back. It will be out there forever. I watch my feet plodding along. Weighing the pros and cons of honesty. I decide to trust my gut. It’s time to let the truth out.
“He works for the government. You know, like the CIA.”
“He works for the CIA?”
“Yeah, and he lets me help. We work together, like a team.”
“He does, huh? I’ve never known of…I guess what I mean is…that’s highly unusual, the CIA letting him work with someone your age.”
I begin to run a little faster. “Well, that’s the way it’s always been. You think I’m lying?”
“I didn’t say that. Let me get this straight. He’s been deep
undercover all your life? Thirteen years? I’ve never known anyone who’s been deep for that long.”
I increase the length of my strides. “What’s ‘deep undercover’ mean?”
“It means not reporting back to the central bureau. You assume an identity and then you wear it constantly.”
“Well, that’s us, I guess we’re
deep undercover
.”
Andy and I start breathing a little harder. In between breaths he says, “I’ve never known the CIA to work that way. They don’t keep agents under that long.”
I increase my speed even more. “Well, my dad’s part of a secret branch of the CIA. A branch very few people know about.”
The two of us are now close to a flat-out run. “Remember, I did some time…with military intelligence. I had…high clearance. Do you know the name…of this so-called secret branch? Maybe…I’ve heard of it.”
“Of course I know the name! And there’s…nothing
so-called
about it. It’s real.”
I don’t know how much longer the two of us can keep up this pace. Andy rasps, “Okay…what’s the…name…of this…group?”
I’m running even harder. I can barely talk. “It’s…called…the…New Order.”
“Ahhhh!” Andy suddenly stops running. It looks like he pulled something.
“Are you all right?” I stop and move to his side. “Where does it hurt?”
“I’m fine.” He grabs my arm and looks me in the eye. “Did you say the New Order?”
“You’ve heard of the New Order?”
Andy glances up and down the street, then drags me into the woods. We stumble together through the thick brush, disappearing from sight. I follow him for about twenty feet before we sit on a rock near a slow-moving stream and catch our breath.