Authors: Greg Logsted
His voice sounds different, like a musical instrument that needs to be tuned. “You’re not joking, right? You said the New Order?”
“Yeah. What’s the matter? Have you heard of it?”
He picks up a stone, tosses it into the stream, and then just sits there watching the ripples flowing toward the shore. Finally he mutters, “I don’t believe it.”
“Believe what?”
“Tell me something. Is your father’s first name Robert?”
“Yeah.”
“How about your mother?”
“Her name was Jodi. But she was killed in Paris when I was almost two. I don’t remember her.”
He’s quiet for a long time. When he talks his voice is flat and lifeless. “Everyone’s looking for you.”
“Looking for me? Who’s looking for me? Who’s everyone?”
I glance at Andy. He looks anxious. “The New Order—I don’t believe it. You’re legendary. If you get a bunch of high-level intelligence types out for a night on the town, the talk will always, eventually, turn to the New Order. Some people think your dad’s a hero, others think he’s a crazy vigilante.”
My elbow jerks sideways and smashes into Andy’s cheek. He falls backward onto the soft, damp earth. I jump off the rock, pin him to the ground, ball my hands into fists and shout, “He’s not crazy! Take that back!”
He yells, “I didn’t say he was! Calm down! Don’t make me hurt you!”
Just as quickly as my anger overtook me it slips away. I roll off of Andy onto the ground beside him. I lie on my back and look at the trees stretching upward in the dense woods. Their leaves are changing, turning color, finally showing the first signs of the approaching autumn.
I glance at Andy. His cheek looks like it’s starting to swell. “I’m sorry.”
He’s quiet for a while. “That’s okay. No big deal. I’ve been hit harder before…by a bus.”
The two of us start to laugh but it’s a low, tired laugh. After a while I sit up and I’m surprised by the heavy sigh that escapes from me. I sound like Jenny. She’s always sighing about something. I don’t want it to hang in the air too long so I blurt out, “Tell me what you know about my father.”
Andy’s still lying on his back behind me. In a calm, steady voice with little emotion he says, “I’ll tell you what I’ve heard, and this is just what I’ve
heard
so if it’s wrong don’t hit me…okay?”
I smile. “Okay.”
“I guess I don’t know that much but everyone’s heard of him, well, that is, everyone in military intelligence. He used to work in the agency with his wife until she was killed in the line of duty.”
I interrupt him. “That was my mother, Aunt Jenny’s sister.”
He swats at a few bugs flying around his head. “Yeah, I guess. Sorry. I heard your dad took it really hard and left the agency. He formed a group called the New Order.”
I glance over at Andy. “So you’re saying my dad
isn’t
with the CIA anymore?”
“No, as far as I know he’s on his own.”
I’m not sure what to say about this. My dad’s
always
told me we work for the CIA. What if Andy’s right? It’s not like I ever met anyone my dad works with. Could we be on our own?
The bugs seem to be getting more aggressive. Andy smacks one that landed on his leg. “The New Order claims they’re trying to stop wars. Your dad’s been plucking bad people out of bad situations before they can contribute to a war breaking out. Sometimes it even works.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I didn’t say anything was wrong with it. I’m just telling you what I’ve heard, remember? Look at me. I’m the one-armed man
who can’t sleep at night. Do I look like a poster child for the glories of war?”
I turn around and glare at Andy. “Why is everyone looking for us? It sounds like what my dad’s doing is a good thing.”
His voice rises. Irritation slips into it. “Because war isn’t simple, it’s complicated, and sometimes it’s even necessary. War can bring change. Sometimes change is good.”
I think of something. “Are you saying it was the CIA who tried to kill us?”
“Someone tried to kill you?”
I tell him about the café bombing.
He stares off into the woods after I tell him the story. It’s starting to get dark. “I could be wrong, but that doesn’t sound like the CIA. They wouldn’t risk killing that many people; it could lead to far greater problems. Sounds more like the work of terrorists or some independent militant group. Has your dad gone up against someone recently who doesn’t work for any particular country?”
There’s so many different places we’ve been and so many people we’ve
studied
that it’s hard to even remember who’s who, but then something pops into my head.
“We broke up this arms dealer selling weapons in South America but I doubt it could have been him. My dad didn’t think much of him. He said he was some ‘lowlife wiseguy’ working out of New York.”
Andy’s eyes seem to open a little wider. “You do know ‘wise
guy’ is another way of saying someone who works for the mob, don’t you?”
I shake my head no.
“Don’t you watch TV?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? No, I don’t watch TV.”
Andy smiles. “Okay, the bottom line is this: Someone’s after you and your dad but you don’t know who?”
“Right. My dad just said that someone’s after us and he has to take care of it. That’s why I’m here. He didn’t think it was safe for me to be with him.”
“I know you don’t want to hear it but he’s probably right.”
I pick up a large rock and toss it into the stream. Why couldn’t my dad have had a normal job? I hate all of this.
I look over at Andy. He’s drawing patterns in the dirt with a stick.
“Andy?” He looks up. “Are you going to tell anyone about me?”
He doesn’t say anything, just continues to draw in the dirt. When I start to think that he didn’t hear me he says, “I should…what your father is doing is dangerous. One mistake could be disastrous. I understand what he’s trying to do—a part of me even admires it—but that doesn’t make what he’s doing right.”
“So you’re…going to tell?”
He blows out a long breath of air. “I gave you my word.”
I can’t help smiling. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We still have to figure out who’s in the woods. My guess is that it’s someone after your dad; they’re probably watching you hoping he’ll show up. I think you’re safe as long as your dad stays away, but if things change and get too crazy around here, I just might have to call for some help. Oh, and there’s one more thing.”
I shake my head. I hate “one more things.” They’re
always
bad news. “What?”
“Remember the metal box in the woods? The one you saw the man in black remove? I found another one. It’s a wireless camera. We’re being watched.”
“What? This is so messed up! What happened? Did you get rid of it?”
He quickly shakes his head. “No, I figure it’s better if they think we don’t know about it. Another thing to keep in mind is that if we’re being watched, maybe we’re also being bugged. So watch what you say.”
I toss another rock into the stream. “Great, just great.”
Andy stands up. “Hey, we’ll figure something out. At least we know something’s going on. That’s to our advantage.”
“I guess.” I look around. It’s dark. “Maybe we should head back.”
“Right.” He swats another bug. “Besides, these gnats are driving me crazy.”
We stumble through the woods up to the road and start walking toward the house. I’m tired. I feel like I’ve been drained of all my energy.
I hear a car coming up the road behind us. It has a loud, powerful engine and the music is really pumping. I don’t pay it much mind until it roars past us and slams on its brakes. I quickly look around for potential weapons. I see four.
A girl calls out, “Hey, guys! Whatcha doing?”
I relax a little as we walk toward the car. It’s a convertible with its top down. Two girls are in the front seat. When we get closer I realize it’s Renee and her sister, Annie. Annie’s sitting behind the wheel with a huge smile plastered on her face.
She waves at Andy. “Hey, stranger. What are you doing out here?”
“Cody and I went out for a jog.”
Renee calls out, “Hey, Cody! Liberator of mice. Defender of the just.”
I wave and try to smile. She’s a lot friendlier than this afternoon.
Annie puts her elbow on the door and leans toward us. “Hop in the back. I’ll give you a ride.”
Andy shows her our clothes. “Nah. Thanks, but we’re a mess. We better walk.”
“Don’t be a jerk. Get in the car.”
“But—”
“Guys, just get in the car. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
We both hop into the backseat. Renee’s giving me a big smile. I guess freeing the mice got me back on her good side.
Annie turns around. “You guys like ice cream?”
We nod our heads.
“Good, because we’re kidnapping both of you. Next stop, the Ice Cream Shack.”
The car roars off down the road. Renee turns up the music. Mailboxes fly by. Above us, spread out like a blanket, is the night sky. I see the very first star of the evening.
I make a wish.
“Cody, where were
you? It’s late!”
Jenny’s sitting at the kitchen table in her robe, drinking a cup of herbal tea. The clock above the sink says ten past ten.
“Sorry. Andy and I got kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped? What are you talking about? Who kidnapped you?”
“Annie and Renee Carrington. They said they would give us a ride home but they kidnapped us instead. They made us eat ice cream, told us jokes, and flirted. It was terrible. I’m sure I’ll be…traumatized for life.”
“Don’t make me laugh. I’m mad at you. I’ve been worried. I didn’t know what to do.”
I sit next to her. “Sorry. I didn’t think you’d worry. You know I can take care of myself.”
Her voice rises, taking me by surprise. “Well, I did worry, and it doesn’t matter if you can take care of yourself, you’re still only thirteen. You let me know where you are. Do you hear me? If you’re going to live here I at least want some respect.”
I hold up my hands. “Hey, I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. Besides, I don’t have a cell phone.”
“Come on. Are you telling me
no one
had a cell phone you could borrow? I don’t believe that.”
She’s right. “I messed up. I should have called. Next time, okay? I promise.”
I stand to leave but she reaches for my arm and pulls me back into the chair. “Not so fast, mister. You’re not leaving this table until you tell me how it went with Renee, and I want details.”
I do. A little at first, like an old-fashioned hourglass, but then I open up, and everything just spills out of my mouth. I tell her every detail from the moment they picked us up until we were dropped off, and it feels great. Jenny and I talk together for more than an hour. She tells me stories about when she was in school, guys she liked, things they did together.
She tells me about a date where everything went horribly wrong. I can’t stop laughing and I find myself thinking,
I guess this is what it would be like to have a mother
. I like the way it feels. It’s a lot different than the way my dad and I are together. It’s
somehow easier, like breathing at sea level instead of high in the mountains.
She gives me a long, tight hug and a kiss on the forehead before I go off to bed. It has that strange way of making me feel safe. I’m not sure how or why. It just does.
Sleep comes slow. I lie in bed waiting for it like an overdue bus. I can’t believe this day. There’s so much to think about—my dad, Renee, the karate class, the mice—but I’m also exhausted. I can’t lie here and think about everything. It’s suffocating. Eventually I slip away and fall into a dream.
My dad and I are sitting together someplace in India at a small outdoor café. It’s hot and dusty. I’m bent over a plate eating a dish of the sweet, spicy ice cream type dessert called Kulfi. It’s one of my favorites. I love it. I can actually eat it until it makes me sick.
My dad’s looking at me. When I meet his eyes he smiles and says something but I don’t understand what he’s saying. It’s in a language I’ve never heard before.
“What?”
He repeats what he said but I still don’t understand him.
“What? I don’t understand. Speak English.”
He’s getting aggravated but I don’t know what he wants. I can’t understand him. He’s annoyed and I’m frustrated. We’re two half bridges that don’t meet in the middle.
Buzzzz.
Buzzzz.
I open my eyes. What’s that sound? I look at the clock: 2:47.
Buzzzz.
Buzzzz.
It’s coming from the kitchen. I spring out of bed and slip down the hall, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I’m ready for anything.
Buzzzz.
Buzzzz.
On the kitchen table Jenny’s cell phone is vibrating. I pick it up and read “unknown caller.” I flip it open before it buzzes again.
“Hello?”
“Cody?”
“Dad?”
“How are you, son?”
“Dad, it’s three o’clock in the morning!”
“I know. I can’t always pick and choose when to call. Now’s the best time but we have to make it quick.”
In the background I can hear the same sound I heard last time. It sounds like a machine that’s crunching rocks, turning boulders into marbles.
I raise my voice. “Is everything okay? How’s our problem?”
“Progress is being made but I need you to do something.”
“What?” I’m surprised he can hear me over all that noise.
“You have to keep your eyes open. Understand?”
“I think so.”
There’s irritation in his voice. “Do you or don’t you understand?”
“I do. I know what you mean.”
“I hope so.”
“Dad, is something wrong?”
“No, there’s nothing to worry about, everything’s under control. I’m finally close to putting an end to all this. I’ve set the wheels in motion. I want you to stay alert just in case.”
“Okay.”
The noise in the background suddenly gets louder, drowning out any thought of either one of us talking. When it gets back to the normal volume he says, “So how’s school?”
It’s tough for me to change topics like this but I manage to push myself forward. “It’s good. Easy, though, stuff we covered years ago. I think I’m making friends.”
“That’s good news.”
I think about what Andy told me. “Dad?”
“Yes, son.”
“Do we really work for who you said we do?”
There’s a long moment of silence. I start to wonder if he’s still there. Finally he says, “Cody, everything’s just the way I told you. I have to go now.”
“Dad, can’t you talk just a little longer?” I can’t believe he has to go already.
“Sorry, I can’t. Soon, though, okay?”
“Dad…” The call disconnects.
I mutter, “…I miss you.”
Once again I’m left standing in the kitchen with a cell phone pressed uselessly against my ear. I don’t know why but my eyes tear up. I’m just getting so frustrated. I don’t want to be part of this whole saving-the-world routine anymore. I want a normal life with all the boring normal things that come with it, like a full night’s sleep, school, friends, and a dad who’s got a nine-to-five job.
I’m so tired.
The light blazes on. I’m not sure how Jenny managed to walk down the hall without me hearing her. It must have been all that noise on the phone. She’s standing there in her nightgown; her hair pushed this way and that.
“Is everything okay? Who were you talking to?”
The light’s so bright that it hurts my eyes. I blink and wipe at them with the backs of my hands.
“Cody, hon, are you crying?”
I turn my back to her. I try to hide my frustration but my voice betrays me. “No, I’m…fine. Really. You know, it’s just…the light.”
She places her hand on my shoulder. “Was that your dad?”
“Yeah.”
“Is everything okay?”
“I dunno. I guess.”
She turns me around, gives me a little smile before wiping my
cheek. Then she pulls me close. “I’m sorry, Cody. I’m sure everything will eventually work out.”
W
hen I round the corner I’m surprised to see Albert. Not that it’s unusual for him to be at the bus stop; in fact, he always seems to get there first. No, what surprises me is that he’s wearing a suit. It looks like it’s cheap, something off the rack, and the tie doesn’t really match, but it definitely counts as a suit. I personally think it’s a vast improvement over his old baggy clothes.
I stand next to him, nod my head in approval, and smile. “Nice suit.”
“Yeah, not as nice as yours, but I kinda like it.”
“I can see why.”
He looks down and kicks a small stone. “Hey, I was wondering. Would you mind if I joined your after-school karate class?”
“Of course, that would be great! You didn’t have to ask. I just assumed that if you wanted to be a part of it you would come on down.”
Cell Phone Girl is shaking her head as she approaches us. “I don’t believe it. Now there’s two of you? What is this, some kind of twisted psycho cult with an extreme dress code?”
She’s standing next to me with a big smile. I don’t understand. Yesterday she seemed terrified to be anywhere near me and today she’s acting like we’re old friends.
She places her backpack next to mine and holds out her small hand. “Um, I don’t know if I ever told you, but my name’s Debbie.”
I shake her hand. I’m amazed at how fragile and delicate it feels. I could easily break the bones if I tried. “I’m Cody.”
“I know. I think what you did was the coolest thing ever.”
“What did I do?”
“You know, freeing the mice? I don’t know who made that YouTube video with the puppet but it’s the funniest thing I’ve seen all year. I must have watched it twenty times.”
“Someone made another video of me?”
“Yes! You mean you haven’t seen it? It’s hysterical. There’s this cute little puppet wearing a suit and tie. He stuffs all these tiny mice into a bag and then releases them in the hall. They run all over the place. You gotta see it.”
“I guess.”
The bus pulls up. I’m not even at the top of the stairs when Troy Sampson is barking out my name again. He’s saving me the same seat he did before.
When I get closer I realize he’s wearing a tie under his leather jacket. He smiles and holds up the tie. “I kind of like the way this looks. Somehow it makes me seem smarter. Maybe a couple of my teachers will finally give me a break.”
Albert keeps muttering, “I hate that guy,” but he winds up sitting next to him anyway while I’m across the aisle. Troy can be very persuasive.
Much to my surprise, Albert and Troy spend the whole ride to school talking about baseball. The World Series has been going on all week. You just can’t escape it. The New York Yankees are playing the New York Mets. It seems like that’s a really big deal around here. It’s become this gate that every conversation has to pass through.
Amber and Nicki squeeze into my seat and chatter nonstop about the YouTube video. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them I never saw it, they just keep talking and talking about it. They say I make a very cute puppet.
Once again school is a welcome sight. I hate riding the bus.
Frank, Pogo Stick, and the rest of the karate club are waiting for me just inside the front door. For some reason I’m not really surprised when I see that they’re all dressed neatly and wearing ties.
We stand in the front hall talking. Almost everyone who walks through the door turns and stares at us.
There are some other groups of kids in the front hall. It’s a common meeting place. I’ve seen people meeting here every day. You meet, you talk, you move along together to homeroom.
Steroid Steve marches over to our group with that odd way of walking he has. It’s like he’s carrying a large barrel under each arm and squeezing a third between his thighs.
He barks, “Hey, you guys gotta move along! No gang activity is allowed in the school.”
I start to laugh. “What are you talking about? We’re not a gang. We’re just dressed up.”
His voice grows louder. “You’re dressed alike and congregating together—that constitutes suspicious gang activity.”
I’m really getting tired of this guy. That roundhouse kick is way overdue.
Troy steps forward and pats me on the back. “Forget about it. I once watched Steve-O here break up a troop of ‘
suspicious’
Girl Scouts. The guy’s clueless. Let’s just get going.”
Troy and Steroid Steve glare at each other. It’s obvious that there’s a long dark history between the two of them.
We walk away and head on down the hall. It’s almost like we’re moving in slow motion. Everyone turns and watches us parade by. Maybe there’s more to what Steve was saying than I gave him credit for.
E
ach day I notice more and more kids wearing ties to school. At first it’s friends of friends, but then I start noticing kids wearing ties that have no connection to us. It’s strange how some things grow without much effort. Like my karate club, which seems to pick up more kids every day.
Andy also agreed to be Bop’s father’s personal trainer. Within a week he had four more clients. All of them willing to pay big bucks to have an Army Ranger rant and yell at them to push themselves harder.
W
e’re all sitting on the cold, damp grass.
“Frankfurter!”
“Yes, Coach?”
“Same drill. Start your lap.”
Frank reluctantly rises to his feet and starts plodding along.
I stand up. “Coach?”
“You have something to say, Teacup?”
“Yes, Coach. We’ve decided we’re not going to do this to Frank anymore.”
“And what’s that, Teacup?”
“This whole ‘pass him so he has to take another lap’ routine.”
Coach Dinatelli glares at me. I think he expects me to get nervous and back down. Finally he says, “Well, Teacup, it’s not up to you to decide what we do or don’t do in
my
class.”
I glare right back at him. “And another thing. We don’t like your stupid nicknames. If you expect to be addressed in a certain manner we deserve the same consideration. How would you like it if we started calling you Coach Blowhard?”
M
rs. Owens taps her fingernails slowly on her desk. “Congratulations, Mr. Saron. I think you’ve established a new school record.”
I let a long moment of silence pass us by. It’s become our accustomed manner of communicating. Words followed by long pauses. “What record would that be?”
“Student with the most teacher complaints. Usually that honor goes to someone with a severe hygiene problem.”