Model Spy

by Shannon Greenland

  “You need shorts.”

  I shrugged. “Or yoga pants.”

  If he thought he was getting me in shorts, he had another think coming. I looked horrible in shorts. All long, gangly legs like a giraffe or something. Pale, too. Whiter than Beaker, the Goth. Now if I had Bruiser’s muscles, I would wear workout clothes anytime.

  David circled behind me. “Basic self-defense. You never know what types of situations you’ll find yourself in.”

  He grabbed me around the neck and stomach and yanked me back against him. I sucked in a startled breath.

  “What would you do,” he whispered against my ear, “if an attacker had you in this hold?”

  This was all pretend, make-believe, but the position scared me out of my mind. His tight, constraining grip paralyzed me. I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to.

  I felt powerless. Helpless. I had no control. And I wanted more than anything to never be in this position again.

  “GiGi.” TL came up beside us. “Calm your breathing.”

  I realized I was panting to the point of hyperventilation.

  He placed his warm fingers over my face. “Close your eyes . . . concentrate . . . relax . . . center yourself . . . even your breaths.”

  I did as he quietly instructed. As the moments passed, the sounds of the horses at the back of the barn and the other Specialists muted. I felt only the soft thud of my heart, heard my quiet exhalations. A sense of oneness with myself strengthened me. As if I, too, could take on Goliath and win.

  His fingers slid from my face. “Now slowly become aware of your surroundings.”

  David’s arms around my neck and stomach came to me first. In my meditative state, I’d forgotten them. Then his body along the length of mine. His warm breath on my cheek. His pulsing heart against my back.

  “Estimate the height and weight of your attacker.” I heard TL shift to stand in front of me. “What part of his body can you get to the quickest? What part of your body can you move?”

  I opened my eyes, as focused as I was when keying code. “My head. I can move it back. We’re around the same height. Head butting is an option.”

  Head butting? Never thought I’d ever say that, let alone do it. “My left arm. It’s pinned, but I can move my hand back and grab his groin. My legs. Both are free. I can slip one between the two of his and knock him off balance.”

  “Good.” TL stepped to the left. “Which option is guaranteed to cause the most pain?”

  “His groin, of course.”

  David quickly released me. “You’re right, and TL’s sadistic enough to tell you to do it.”

  TL chuckled. “Nicely done.” He slapped David on the back. “Take it easy on her,” he said, then wandered over to another team.

  “That was really cool.” I turned to David. “I might like this PT stuff after all.”

  He patted me on the head, making me feel five years old. “We gotta make sure you can take care of yourself. I told you I feel protective. You’re like my little sister.”

  Maybe it was the little-sister comment, the same one he’d made right before tricking me into hacking the government’s system. Or maybe the pat on the head. But both gestures infuriated me.

  Grabbing his wrist, I twisted his arm behind his back and jammed my foot into the rear of his knee.

  He buckled to the floor and rolled to his back. “What the . . . where did you learn that move?”

  I stared down at him, amazed I’d done such a Jackie Chan maneuver. Guess watching movies pays off after all. I made a dramatic show of dusting my hands, enjoying my momentary superiority as David sat stunned on the floor.

  “Excuse me. I need a bathroom break.” I strolled away, head up, hoping my rear end looked good. Because maybe then he’d realize I wasn’t five years old or his little sister.

  [5]

  I hurried across the University of San Belden’s library plaza and into the computer science building. I’d been attending classes for only a month, but already I liked the professors and students better than Iowa. Everyone seemed more laid-back. Maybe it was the California sun and the surfer attitude.

  In the past month, I’d had the same schedule. Classes every day. Homework. PT after that. Dinner. Chores. Bed. Pretty mundane actually. Except I’d always managed to be late to one or more of the various things.

  I unlocked the lab reserved for computer science majors and found my usual station in the back empty. There were only two other students, a girl next to my station and a guy in the front. But they were so into their work, they didn’t even notice me. With a quick glance at the clock, I put my book bag down. I had two hours until David got out of classes. We were supposed to meet in the parking lot to go pick up my team from the high school.

  I cranked up my laptop, laid out a couple of lollipops, and began keying code. . . .

  [ISO-0000]

 

=ABR TLE=‘wowdeb’ >ABR<>

  <003004001> /= ~%>

  “Hey, there’s a really cute guy out there who wants you.”

  I nodded, having heard the student beside me. A few more keystrokes, and this code segment would be complete. . . .

  “Um, it looks like it’s important. He’s pointing to his watch and jabbing his finger in your direction.”

  I nodded, having heard the girl again. Didn’t people know it was rude to bother someone when they were working?

  The student shook my arm. “He’s knocking on the glass now. Who is that? Does he go to school here? Omigod if you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”

  Remember to never sit by this idiot again.

  Across the computer lab, a blurry image of a tall, dark guy occupied the window. I shoved my glasses on top of my head and got a clear shot of David impatiently tapping his watch.

  Shoot. I jumped to my feet as my gaze darted to the clock that hung on the wall. TL’s gonna kill me. Thirty minutes late! How had so much time gone by already?

  Tossing my lemon lollipop in the garbage, I signaled David to go on, knowing he’d wait by the ranch’s van. Rapidly, I shut down the laptop and raced from the lab, through the computer science building, and out into the parking lot. David stood propped against the van talking to a dark-haired girl.

  He’s not in such a hurry now.

  He glanced up as I approached. “Ah, here she is.”

  The dark-haired girl gave me a barely discernible once-over, like comparing herself to me. Like she had some sort of territorial right over David.

  I wanted to tell her to save her immaturity for someone it actually intimidated.

  “Is this where you work?” She pointed to the decal on the van. SAN BELDEN RANCH FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.

  “Yes. It’s part of my work-study program at school here.” He surreptitiously checked his watch.

  Dark-haired Girl turned to me. “Aren’t you that genius kid that enrolled a few weeks ago? Everyone’s been talking about you.”

  “That’s her.” David reached toward me, and I got the impression he was going to ruffle my hair or pat me on the head again.

  I narrowed my eyes in warning, and he slid my backpack off my shoulder instead.

  “Nice meeting you.” He opened the passenger side, and I climbed in.

  “Can I, um, give you my number?” the girl asked David.

  Jealousy tingled inside me, but I busied myself putting on my seat belt, pretending everything was cool.

  David turned to the dark-haired girl, and I imagined his mind clicking out of task mode into normal eighteen-year-old mode. “Oh, sure. Sorry. My mind’s on something else.”

  The girl scribbled her number on a scrap of paper and tucked it down his front jeans pocket. “Call me.”

  I stared out my open window at his front pocket, unable to comprehend such a bold move. I could never do that.

  David cleared his throat and circled around to the driver’s side. He returned her wave through the window as we pulled out of the parking lot.

  “TL’s going to be r
eally pissed,” David snapped, after we turned onto the main street.

  It took me a second to register how upset he sounded. “I’m sorry. I wa—”

  He sliced the air with his hand, and I blinked in astonishment. “Your life’s no longer just about you. There’re other people involved. Do you realize your teammates have been waiting at the high school for nearly forty-five minutes to be picked up? How do you think they feel standing out there doing nothing?”

  I swallowed a lump of guilt.

  “They probably think we’re not showing. They probably already called TL.”

  “I’m sor—”

  “You can’t get lost in your own computer world anymore. There are people who depend on you.”

  My guilt morphed to anger. How dare he accuse me of not being dependable. Anybody, anybody, could depend on me. “Well, you didn’t seem to mind my being late. What were you doing with that girl? Tricking another unsuspecting teenager into committing a crime?”

  He shot a lethal glare in my direction, and I turned away. Silence filled the air between us as we drove through the city.

  Warm air flowed in my open window. Outside, kids played in shaded parks, people bustled in and out of air-conditioned buildings, joggers and Roller Bladers spotted the sunny sidewalks. Everyone enjoying a normal afternoon. A normal life. I caught sight of a family picnicking and immediately recalled a picnic I’d gone on with my parents. The unexpected memory brought a slight smile to my lips. I missed them so much.

  I sighed. I had to admit, I had “tardy” issues. Never could be anywhere on time. Not even alarm clocks kept me on track. Most of the time I tuned them out when they went off. It wasn’t as if I didn’t comprehend my flaws. I found it very hard to pull myself from my concentrated state. That’s all. Something I needed to work on, but I didn’t need David barking at me about it.

  “Here,” he murmured, and handed me an apple. “I know you forgot to eat.”

  Food. Right. I knew something had slipped my mind today. I took the fruit, and my fingers brushed his. The contact brought our eyes together for a brief second, then he switched his attention back to the road.

  I looked at the apple and thought, How can I stay mad at him? Mere minutes ago we’d been in a fiery debate and yet he’d still worried about my welfare.

  “Ohhh,” he groaned, pulling into the high school parking lot. “I don’t need this right now.”

  In front of the school, every one of my teammates was slinging punches in a street brawl. Beaker was rolling around on the pavement with another girl. Wirenut punched a guy in the face. Parrot charged a different guy. Bruiser leaped into the air, delivering a split kick to a girl and a guy. And Mystic, always at one with the universe, stood in the middle of it all trying to keep the peace.

  TL folded his arms across his chest and stared hard at each of us. “I am extremely disappointed. I don’t think this is amusing in the least.”

  Sitting around the conference table four levels beneath the ranch, my teammates and I guiltily dropped our heads. No one had said a word since coming home from San Belden High, so I didn’t know what had caused the fight. My curiosity was about to burst one of my brain cells, though. Epecially with the bumps and scrapes everyone was sporting.

  “You’ve been here only a month and already I’ve been contacted by the principal three times. First, because of Beaker’s explosion in the chemistry lab. Second, because of Mystic’s palm reading in between classes, and now this. I didn’t bring you here to resume your juvenile antics. I recruited you because you’re the best and I saw potential. But let me say something: as easily as I brought you here, I can transport you right back out. So if you’re thinking you’re too talented for me to get rid of, then think again. I don’t have the time or inclination to deal with behavioral issues. There is a whole list of other candidates on my desk as we speak.”

  TL circled the table and stopped behind Wirenut. “Tell me, what was the fight about?”

  Why would TL ask that question? We all wore monitoring devices. TL knew the answer. Maybe it was a test to see if Wirenut would lie or tell the truth. Maybe TL thought Wirenut had forgotten about the monitoring device. They were easy to forget, being almost invisible. The only time I remembered mine was when I undressed.

  “I will not repeat my question.”

  Swollen-eyed, Wirenut cast a quick glance toward Parrot as if silently asking if he should tell.

  “Sir.” Parrot raised his hand, displaying an oozing scrape on his forearm. “May I answer the question?”

  TL raised one brow.

  “The fight was about me.”

  “Go on.”

  Parrot straightened in his chair and inhaled a deep breath, like he dreaded giving his explanation. “This guy was making fun of my Native American heritage. I threw the first punch, sir. I’m sorry. I let my temper get the best of me.”

  “And your teammates? How did they get involved?”

  “They jumped in when too many students ganged up on me.”

  “I see.” TL circled the table, returning to his original spot. He looked at Mystic. “Your principal said you were the only one not involved. Why is that?”

  “I don’t believe in violence.” Mystic gently patted his heart. “Peace.”

  Beside me, Beaker snorted.

  TL slammed his fist on the table, and we all jumped. “Let me repeat. I don’t find this amusing. Or”—he glanced at Mystic—“peaceful. This situation is just the type of thing that would make the IPNC pull our funding. And then where would you all be?” He paused for a second. “You’ve lost all free-time privileges for two weeks. Every one of you. This is a team, so the whole team suffers. You will go to school, come back, do chores, PT, eat, homework, and go to bed. Weekends are mine, too. Don’t even think about violating these restrictions. Because if you do, I will, guaranteed, put you in juvie hall where you belong.”

  He pinned each of us with a light-eyed, icy stare. “Dismissed.”

  I followed my teammates from the conference room, around the high-tech work area, past all the locked doors, and then into the elevator. No one said a word as we rode it four floors up to the ranch level. We exited, the guys went to their room, and we girls went to ours.

  Bruiser gingerly lowered herself to her bed. She raised her REDHEADS ROCK! T-shirt and carefully examined the bruises on her side. “Sucks having TL mad at us.”

  “Who cares?” Beaker flopped across her mattress.

  “When exactly did you develop such a bad attitude?” Bruiser smoothed down her shirt. “Have you always been this way? Or did you wake up one morning and decide, ‘Hey, I think I’ll be the world’s biggest crab.’”

  Beaker flipped Bruiser off with a black-tipped finger. I held my breath, sure Bruiser would physically retaliate, and I’d be the one to have to break it up.

  “Ya know,” Bruiser pressed on, apparently unfazed by Beaker’s middle finger, “just because your life sucks doesn’t mean you can be nasty to the rest of us. Not like any of us have had rosy ones ourselves. You don’t see us all sour moody. Get over yourself.”

  Beaker rolled onto her side, giving us her back. Runs and holes, remnants of the fight, zigzagged her black fishnet leggings. She’d bleached her choppy hair white in the past week. Very different from the purple it had originally been. I experienced a pang of sorrow for her. She seemed so . . . lost.

  We all did, but she seemed helpless.

  I glanced over to my bed. On my pillow sat a small, red plastic bag. I crossed the room and peeked inside. Clothes? I reached in and pulled out two pairs of shorts, one yellow and one gray. I held them up and eyeballed their extreme shortness. We’re going to have to buy you some shorts. David’s comment came back to me. Had he bought me these? My stomach swirled at the image of me poured into them. Had David conjured a similar one?

  Bruiser went to her dresser and pulled open the top drawer. She took off her T-shirt, grabbed an Ace bandage, and began wrapping it around her ribs. “Should’ve b
ought a bigger size. Those’ll crawl up your crack. They’re a little teeny.”

  They were teeny. Very teeny. She assumed I’d bought them for myself. Fine by me. Last thing I needed was my teammates teasing me about David or thinking I got special treatment.

  “Need any help?” I offered, purposefully changing the subject.

  “Nah. I’ve done this plenty over the years.”

  I shoved the shorts back in the bag and made myself comfortable against my headboard. “Anything broken?”

  “Only bruised.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Ever had a broken rib?”

  I shook my head.

  “Believe me, there’s a huge difference between a broken rib and a bruised one.”

  Parrot, Wirenut, and Mystic opened our door and strode into our room without knocking. “Can we come in?”

  “Sure.” Bruiser nodded them in, obviously not caring that she was wearing only her white cotton sports bra and jeans.

  Out of all the space in the room, the guys crowded onto our beds like a big, comfortable family.

  Parrot plopped across the foot of my bed. He’d bandaged his oozing forearm.

  Mystic settled on the carpet cross-legged, like he was about to meditate. How did he get his big burly body in that limber position?

  Wirenut pushed Beaker’s feet aside and made himself comfortable next to her. She didn’t move, and in fact kept her back to us all. He peeled a banana and took a bite.

  We were like brothers and sisters hanging out. A real family. With a smile, I snuggled down into my freshly washed pillow.

  Bruiser secured the Ace bandage with two metal clasps, then slid her shirt back on. She sprawled on her stomach across her mattress. “I was telling them how much it sucks having TL mad at us. And you”—she bopped Mystic in the back of the head—“are an idiot. I can’t believe you said, ‘I don’t believe in violence.’”

  Mystic rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t. Besides, if Parrot here would learn to deal with his stress quietly, none of this would’ve happened. ‘Sticks and stones will break my bones, but names can never harm me.’ All of you could take a lesson from that. You can’t go throwing punches when somebody mouths off.”