brown. Sparkly. It’s hard not to stare at them. At her. I want to go and hang out more than life itself.
But I have plans on Saturday. “Damn,” I say. “I promised my grandpa I’d go see him this weekend. He’s in upstate New York.”
“Oh,” she says, frowning. “That sucks.” She realizes what she said. “I mean, not about your grandpa—”
Ms. Gieck starts talking about Shylock, and I have to turn to the front. “I wish I could come,” I whisper sideways.
“I’m sure I’ll see you around at something else,” she whispers back. “Soon.”
I grin, tap my pen on the desk. I totally didn’t expect that. Today is looking up, in a big way.
Eric raises his hand and asks to go to the nurse’s office. He grabs up his stuff, snatches a permission slip from Ms. Gieck, and stalks out the door without looking back.
I stare after him. Whatever that was about, it can’t be good.
* * *
He’s waiting for me outside the cemetery, leaning against the wall. Face as blank and serious as I’ve seen it.
“What’s the matter?” I say, as soon as I get close enough. “I didn’t need supervision in English today? Or are you really sick?”
He slings his backpack over his shoulder. “Let’s go to the crypt. We need to talk.”
“It’s a mausoleum,” I say. “A crypt is underground.”
He ignores me, strides up the path.
The fist is back in my gut. I follow.
Once the gate’s shut behind us he drops his pack on the stone floor and plops down. “Sit.”
Okay. I sit. “What’s up? National emergency?”
He sets his hands in his lap, carefully, like he’d rather be doing something else with them. “Were you serious that you were going to go to your grandfather’s this weekend? Or was that just an excuse for the girl?”
I frown. “Why would I make an excuse to avoid Rachel? Yeah, I was serious. He asked me to come.”
“To upstate New York,” he says, flat. “This weekend. And you didn’t think to tell us?”
Oh.
“He’s my grandfather. How threatening is that?” The truth is, I hadn’t thought much about it at all, with everything else.
“I spoke to Dr. Miller,” Eric says. “You’re not going.”
“What?” I cross my arms, sit up straight against the wall.
“You’re not going. You haven’t been cleared for a trip like that. We don’t know where this place is. We’d need time to check it out, assess the threats. Our covers are just getting settled—it hasn’t been long enough for me to reasonably accompany you. And you’re not going on your own. Out of the question.”
The anger rises up my chest, acid in my throat. I rein it in, barely, remembering the gun. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
His eyes narrow. He looks completely different like that—like this. Not my age at all.
“Jake. I know it’s very new,” he says, over-patient, like I’m a kindergartner. “But in the end, you have agreed to work as a high-level asset of the U.S. government. You are under twenty-four-hour security detail. You do not —” Red is seeping into his cheeks. He stops himself, lowers his voice. “You do not go waltzing off on out-of-state trips unprotected, not without giving us time to properly prepare. I’m sorry. No.”
I get up and walk out into the graves, the mausoleum gate clanging behind me. My breath pumps clouds of steam. My hands clench tight inside my coat.
I feel like a toddler straining against one of those asinine leashes. I’ve worked to gain independence: my own bike, my own car. Trust. Responsibility. I’m eighteen, an adult. I’m almost out of high school, on to the rest of my life. My choices, on my own merits. My plans.
But now all of a sudden I’m back at square one. Don’t do that, Jakey. Stay here, Jakey. Do only what we tell you.
I get it: I can help people. I’ve agreed. Plus, they’re protecting me. But everything in me strains to run away, to start over. I can’t. I’m trapped.
“You could go in a couple of
But I have plans on Saturday. “Damn,” I say. “I promised my grandpa I’d go see him this weekend. He’s in upstate New York.”
“Oh,” she says, frowning. “That sucks.” She realizes what she said. “I mean, not about your grandpa—”
Ms. Gieck starts talking about Shylock, and I have to turn to the front. “I wish I could come,” I whisper sideways.
“I’m sure I’ll see you around at something else,” she whispers back. “Soon.”
I grin, tap my pen on the desk. I totally didn’t expect that. Today is looking up, in a big way.
Eric raises his hand and asks to go to the nurse’s office. He grabs up his stuff, snatches a permission slip from Ms. Gieck, and stalks out the door without looking back.
I stare after him. Whatever that was about, it can’t be good.
* * *
He’s waiting for me outside the cemetery, leaning against the wall. Face as blank and serious as I’ve seen it.
“What’s the matter?” I say, as soon as I get close enough. “I didn’t need supervision in English today? Or are you really sick?”
He slings his backpack over his shoulder. “Let’s go to the crypt. We need to talk.”
“It’s a mausoleum,” I say. “A crypt is underground.”
He ignores me, strides up the path.
The fist is back in my gut. I follow.
Once the gate’s shut behind us he drops his pack on the stone floor and plops down. “Sit.”
Okay. I sit. “What’s up? National emergency?”
He sets his hands in his lap, carefully, like he’d rather be doing something else with them. “Were you serious that you were going to go to your grandfather’s this weekend? Or was that just an excuse for the girl?”
I frown. “Why would I make an excuse to avoid Rachel? Yeah, I was serious. He asked me to come.”
“To upstate New York,” he says, flat. “This weekend. And you didn’t think to tell us?”
Oh.
“He’s my grandfather. How threatening is that?” The truth is, I hadn’t thought much about it at all, with everything else.
“I spoke to Dr. Miller,” Eric says. “You’re not going.”
“What?” I cross my arms, sit up straight against the wall.
“You’re not going. You haven’t been cleared for a trip like that. We don’t know where this place is. We’d need time to check it out, assess the threats. Our covers are just getting settled—it hasn’t been long enough for me to reasonably accompany you. And you’re not going on your own. Out of the question.”
The anger rises up my chest, acid in my throat. I rein it in, barely, remembering the gun. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
His eyes narrow. He looks completely different like that—like this. Not my age at all.
“Jake. I know it’s very new,” he says, over-patient, like I’m a kindergartner. “But in the end, you have agreed to work as a high-level asset of the U.S. government. You are under twenty-four-hour security detail. You do not —” Red is seeping into his cheeks. He stops himself, lowers his voice. “You do not go waltzing off on out-of-state trips unprotected, not without giving us time to properly prepare. I’m sorry. No.”
I get up and walk out into the graves, the mausoleum gate clanging behind me. My breath pumps clouds of steam. My hands clench tight inside my coat.
I feel like a toddler straining against one of those asinine leashes. I’ve worked to gain independence: my own bike, my own car. Trust. Responsibility. I’m eighteen, an adult. I’m almost out of high school, on to the rest of my life. My choices, on my own merits. My plans.
But now all of a sudden I’m back at square one. Don’t do that, Jakey. Stay here, Jakey. Do only what we tell you.
I get it: I can help people. I’ve agreed. Plus, they’re protecting me. But everything in me strains to run away, to start over. I can’t. I’m trapped.
“You could go in a couple of
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