Double Vision by F. T. Bradley

“No, no, my friend. This one is for the house.”
    He meant on the house, but I wasn’t about to correct the guy, with him being so cool about this ridiculously short trip and all. I tucked my money away. “Well, thanks.”
    â€œNo problem.” Guillaume looked serious now. “You remember to call me when you need help.”
    I could stand to have a friend who didn’t try to run away from me all the time, so I agreed and got out.
    You know those pictures of famous monuments you see in your history books? The real thing is nothing like them, let me tell you. This arc was at least 150 feet tall, from what I could tell. You could see from a distance that a bunch of stonemasons spent decades making it beautiful. A big traffic circle surrounded the monument. I was across the street, so I figured I’d pull out my skateboard and go find Françoise. Tell her how you’re supposed to leave no man behind and all that.
    I set my board on the pavement, watching the traffic zoom by. It was crazy—there was almost never a break in traffic. Almost never. If you paid attention, you could see there was a flow, with gaps just wide enough for a skateboarding Chicken Boy to make it across. And that big, wide traffic circle was just waiting to be skateboarded, let me tell you.
    Concentrating on the traffic pattern, I stepped on my board. The second I was ready to ride, someone yelled “Stop!” and grabbed my backpack. A cop, no doubt about it. This French policeman had a dark-blue uniform and a round face with a very mean expression. “No skateboarding!”
    â€œI’m just trying to get to the arc,” I said, pointing across the street. “That’s not illegal is it?” Maybe this policeman was one of those skateboard haters.
    The cop pulled me back onto the sidewalk. People were gawking at us, but he motioned for them to move along already. “You take the tunnel, young boy,” he said to me as he reached to take my skateboard. But I wasn’t going to let him—it’s a good board, my latest birthday present.
    â€œThe tunnel?”
    The cop pointed farther around the big circular sidewalk we stood on. “Over there. Tourists take the tunnel underground to get to the arc.”
    An underground tunnel—that made sense. Traffic wasn’t exactly slow over here, and there were no crosswalks or lights. I should have paid attention a little more. “Okay.” I clutched my board and started to walk.
    â€œStop!” The cop pulled my backpack again. “You are still getting a ticket.”
    â€œA ticket? No, you can’t!” That would mean I’d get into trouble with Agent Stark. And right now, staying off her radar was a top priority. “No, wait. I didn’t know I was supposed to use the tunnel.”
    The policeman pulled a notepad from his jacket and smiled. “Ignorance is bliss, isn’t that what you say?”
    â€œNo.” I was about to try using my charm to stop the policeman from writing a ticket, when I saw Benjamin Green. He stood under the arc, right next to Françoise. She said something to him, looking serious. Why was she even talking to him? I thought she hated the guy and that she was ready to kill him. Then the penny dropped.
    She thought he was me .
    â€œNo, no. Françoise!” I called but there was no way she could hear over the traffic. What was Green doing and what was he saying to her? What if she gave him the next clue— our next clue?
    The cop was writing on his pad, looking determined. “Your name?”
    I clutched my board and looked across the giant traffic circle at Françoise and Benjamin Green, talking like they were friends. Was she smiling? This was bad, really bad. I wished Françoise had her deadly stick.
    â€œYour name,” the cop ordered, raising his voice. “NOW!”
    If I was going to get a ticket, I might as well go and skateboard across the