0062120085. (C) (12 page)

I
GOT BACK HOME AROUND NOON.

Everything felt different. Like the kitchen. The kitchen used to feel like the heart and soul of the house. But now it just felt like a plain old kitchen. It seemed emptier to me. I didn’t like the feeling at all.

I saw my brother watching TV in the living room. I said hi to him and then headed downstairs to my bedroom. Almost as soon as I opened my computer, I got an incoming Skype call from Dillon. That was another thing about Dillon—he pretty much only communicated
via written notes, in person, or with Skype.

It wasn’t that he thought video chat was better or cooler than phone calls or text messages or anything. He just simply refused to use phones of any kind. He said all communications via telephone, including texts, were monitored and recorded by some massive database, and that your communication histories were used for all sorts of manipulative reasons. Or something.

Dillon didn’t really like Skype much either, but we had to communicate somehow. It’s not like we could send smoke signals to each other across town. Anyway, being friends with Dillon entailed accepting a lot of crazy stuff. Or at least I used to think it was all crazy. Given what had happened to me in the last forty-eight hours, Dillon’s theories didn’t seem all that outlandish anymore.

I clicked on the Answer button on my computer screen. Dillon’s face filled my monitor. He was wearing his tin foil gloves again. (Don’t ask.)

“Hey, Carson, what’s up? Where have you been all morning? I was convinced that the Candy People had gotten to you or something.”

I just stared at him. I tried to say something but didn’t. Or couldn’t. Why wasn’t I answering him? Likely because I had spent the morning inside a secret office
belonging to a covert government secret agent instead of hanging out with Dillon and Danielle like usual.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, nothing. It was just an interesting day,” I said.

“Why, what happened?”

I was being an idiot. That was the last thing you ever wanted to say to Dillon, even under normal circumstances. My first ten minutes of having an official secret agent mission and I was already close to blowing my cover. Maybe deep down I even wanted to blow my cover. At least on some level.

“Just a lot of weird stuff happened,” I finally answered him. “But it was all family stuff, so nothing you’d probably care about.”

“Oh,” he said, looking disappointed. “Well, do you want to go to the circus with Danielle and me later tonight? There’s also that new milk bar right next to the circus grounds that we still need to check out.”

“Milk bar?”

“Yeah, I guess it’s like a regular bar, but instead of serving beer, they serve, like, custom flavored milk. So kids can go, too.”

“That sounds pretty cool,” I admitted.

“Yeah, so you want to go today with us then?”

I had totally forgotten about the circus. Under normal circumstances, I would have gone for sure. Now, I just didn’t think I could deal with it. Not only that, but the circus felt even more boring and ordinary to me now than ever before. Even with the addition of a new custom milk bar or whatever.

“I wish I could, but I can’t. I have to help my mom with something,” I said. “Maybe next weekend?”

“Okay, yeah, whatever,” he said. “What about tomorrow? Do you have any time to hang out at all this weekend?”

“Maybe. I’ll let you know. But if not, then I’ll see you Monday at school, okay?”

He nodded. I had to admit I felt pretty bad.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you,” he said and disconnected the call.

I was just about to stand up when I noticed the small, tan envelope sitting on my desk. It was sealed and had two words written on it in black marker:

Open Me

I remembered Agent Nineteen saying there would be further instructions waiting for me at home. So I opened it without hesitating. Inside the envelope was a flash drive with two more words scrawled on it in tiny print:

Play Me

I plugged the flash drive into my computer. It contained just a single WAV file. My heart raced as I double-clicked it. One hour into my mission helping out a top secret agency and I was already receiving top secret messages. This was probably the fastest my heart had ever beat in my life. Heck, it was probably the fastest anyone’s heart had ever raced in this whole state.

The media player opened. I saw right away that the video was just over two minutes long. I clicked play and the screen went black. Then white text appeared on the screen:

There was no one in my room but me, obviously, but I still instinctively looked around. I turned down the volume on my computer to the second to lowest setting. Then I quickly stood up and closed my bedroom door. I sat down at my desk again and waited, trying to keep
from going into excitement-induced cardiac arrest.

Agent Nineteen appeared on the screen in front of a black background.

“Zero, thank you again for agreeing to help us. Your main objective is to incorporate Olek into the social fabric of your school as deeply and seamlessly as possible. It is imperative that it appears as if he’s been here for years. Accomplishing this can be done by adhering to the following three directives:

“Directive One: You must ask your mother if Olek can stay the night at your house for the next five nights, until his parents are able to testify at the trial. Make up any reason that is not the truth to get them to agree. Olek will be coming over tomorrow, so get her permission before then. Your house will have undetectable Agency protection and surveillance for the duration of his stay to ensure the safety of your family. It is important that Olek is seen with other kids as often as possible. There is no greater way to achieve this than to literally have him by your side at all times outside of school classes.

“Directive Two: Incorporate Olek into your group of friends at lunch. Not only should he become your friend, but he should become theirs as well. The more friends Olek has, the better.

“Directive Three: Be on the lookout for any suspicious activity. Report anything unusual to either myself or Agent Blue.

“We know you can do this, Zero. If you execute your mission properly, Pancake Haus will never suspect Olek as their target. Right now they’re looking for a needle in a haystack. We need you turn to Olek from a needle into just another piece of hay.

“This message will self-destruct in ten seconds. I highly recommend you discard the flash drive immediately. End transmission.”

With that, the screen went completely dark. Wow, my first Agency transmission. I still couldn’t believe . . . wait, did he say self-destruct in ten seconds?! What was it with these guys and self-destructing messages?

I imagined my whole computer exploding, and then without thinking about it further, I ripped the flash drive from the USB port and threw it into the trash can next to my desk. Then I dived behind the foot of my bed and covered my head, waiting for the
BANG
.

When a few seconds passed and nothing happened I peeked around the side of my bed. The flash drive was still sitting inside the wire-mesh trash can. Maybe the detonator was defective? Or maybe it was some sort of a
secret agent practical joke?

But then I smelled it. The smell of burning plastic. I walked over and looked inside the trash can. A thin tendril of white smoke drifted up from the flash drive, and the burning smell got stronger. After a few seconds the smoke started dissipating, as did the smell. Then it just looked like an ordinary flash drive again, sitting inside the garbage can.

L
ATER THAT NIGHT, AFTER DINNER, I HELPED MY MOM WITH
dishes and made my pitch for Olek to stay the night with us until the following Monday.

“Why so long? And on school nights?” she asked.

“Because he’s got nowhere else to go!” I said. “Their house got infested with termites . . .
and
rats. Great giant ones with tails so big they crack like whips when they run, and, and . . .”

“Carson, I got the point already!” My mom had always been grossed out by rats.

“Okay, well, anyway,” I continued, “apparently his parents’ insurance will only pay for a single hotel room. Which means he’d have to share a bed with his younger brother and sister. And his younger brother Juri has some weird gastrointestinal problem that causes him to fart like every ten seconds, and not just normal farts, either. Juri’s farts are like . . .”

“Enough with the farts,” she said, making a face again.

I had a feeling the grosser the story, the more tired she’d get of listening to it. And the more tired she got of listening to it, the sooner she’d cave in.”

“And so I thought maybe he could stay with us until their house gets fixed next week.”

She sighed as she stirred the soup she was making for dinner. “I suppose that’d be fine.”

The next day, I anxiously awaited Olek’s arrival all afternoon. My dad was out of town, as usual, my mom was at a movie, and my brother was off doing who knew what with his pals. So I sat alone on the chair next to the front window in the living room and waited. My hands were almost shaking I was so anxious for Olek to get here. I still wasn’t sure how they were planning to sneak him in without being seen.

But they didn’t sneak him in at all. In fact, sometime
late in the afternoon, Olek came pedaling up the street on his bike with a backpack slung over his shoulders. Which was surprising at first, but then made sense the more I thought about it. It all fit in with the “hiding in plain sight” plan. Pancake Haus still didn’t know who Olek was, so he needed to do all the things normal kids did, like ride their bikes to their friends’ houses and not be escorted there by secret agents in government-issued SUVs.

I told him to park his bike in the garage and then welcomed him inside.

“I expected them to, like, drop you off with armed security or something,” I said. “I can’t believe they let you ride over here alone.”

“I was not alone. They follow me whole time, just in case,” Olek said.

I looked out the window and down the street both ways. I didn’t see anybody else. Except my neighbor, Moe, who was out mowing his lawn again. That weirdo must mow his lawn at least three times a day. I never did get that. Didn’t adults have enough stuff to worry about as it was? Why add extra stress by freaking out over how their grass is growing?

“I don’t see anybody,” I said.

“Exactly the purpose they want,” Olek said. “I ride my bike over here. They watch just in case. Easy as cake.”

“It’s easy as pie,” I corrected him.

“Yes, this what I say, piece of pie.”

“No, that’s . . . never mind.”

“Where is room? I would like to embark in sleep now.”

“You want to take a nap?” I asked. I didn’t think anybody between the ages of seven and forty took naps.

“Yes,” he said. “I am awake since three a.m.”

“Since three?! That’s crazy early,” I said.

“Is okay, as they say, early bird get many intestine worms in guts.”

I laughed. “Close enough. What were you doing up that early? Agency stuff?”

“Oh, no,” he said like that was a ridiculous notion. “I was playing this game you have. . . . Furious Ostrich.”

“Angry Birds?”

“Yes! Is great game! Very much addicting.”

I grinned and shook my head. “Come on, I’ll show you my room.”

He followed me downstairs and I put his bag on my bed.

“This your bed?” he asked.

“Yeah, but it’s yours now. At least for as long as you’re
here. I’m going to sleep here on the floor.” I pointed at a sleeping bag rolled up in the corner.

“Thank you,” he said. “Is very nice thing you do.”

“Look, you can nap now, I guess, but later we should play some Xbox. Do you know how to play Xbox?”

“Yes, of course! Does polar bear not vomit inside forest areas?”

“No, the saying goes . . . ah, never mind. Anyway, I’ll see you when you get up later, okay?”

“Yes, is good,” he said, plopping down onto the bed.

I went back upstairs to the living room and sat on the big loveseat. I must not have realized how exhausted I was, likely due to everything that had happened to me the past few days, because before I knew it I was suddenly being awoken by the sound of laughter. I opened my eyes to find myself slumped over on the couch in our living room. I was disoriented at first and had no idea where I was. I
never
take naps. I couldn’t believe I’d actually fallen asleep.

Once I’d finally woken up enough to realize where I was, I looked up and saw Olek in the kitchen helping my mom make dinner. He was sitting at the table peeling potatoes. My mom was laughing almost uncontrollably at something.

“What’s going on?” I asked, rubbing the crust from eyes.

“Carson, you didn’t tell me your friend was so funny!” she said through her laughter.

“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise,” I said, glad they were getting along.

“Dude, your friend is hilarious,” my brother said from the chair across from me. I saw the Sunday Night Football game on TV.

“You’re a hit!” I said to Olek.

“Like Beatles song?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, again wondering where he came up with this stuff. “Like a Beatles song.”

He grinned at me and kept working on the potatoes.

“Mom, isn’t it kind of racist to make the Russian kid peel the potatoes?” I said.

“Carson!” she said.

Olek laughed. He laughed harder than I’d ever seen him laugh before. This only made my mom, brother, and me start laughing as well.

“This not so bad,” he said, finally. “In some country, potatoes are peeled with dirty fingernail.”

As my mom heard this, she had to stop chopping because it was unsafe to laugh that hard with a knife in your hand.

After a loud, fun, and very funny dinner, Olek and I excused ourselves. Well, that was after Olek offered to help with the dishes. I’d nudged him with my elbow when he offered. He was making me look bad.

But my mom refused to let him help anyway.

“You’re our guest,” she’d said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

And so we headed downstairs to my bedroom to relax and try to have some fun. It might be cool for Olek to have one full night with a friend that wasn’t filled with abduction attempts or hiding out in whatever safe house they had him at before he came to stay here.

We played video games for a while. He was better than I’d expected. I’m not sure why I thought he might be terrible, but it either had something to do with my obviously ignorant assumption that they didn’t have Xbox in his home country or else just that being endlessly pursued by a rogue terrorist cell distracted him from practicing his video-game technique.

He said he loved hockey and so that’s what we played for most of the night. But after a while, we switched it off and just talked and joked around until we fell asleep.

The next morning was my first day at school with an official secret agent mission to accomplish. Once Olek and I were on the bus, I felt like I couldn’t talk to
anybody. So for the first little bit I sat there and looked out the window. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I figured it didn’t hurt to be looking just the same.

But whatever it was I was looking for, I didn’t see it. Or maybe I did and just didn’t know it. Either way, I soon realized that I was being ridiculous. My directive was to be friends with Olek, to try and make him look like a normal kid. Which I was doing a pretty miserable job at so far.

“Hey, Carson,” Olek said, breaking my long and unintentional silence. “We sing today?”

“No, I don’t think so. Not today.”

“Yes, is strange thing, anyway,” he said. “Singing on bus. Who does this?”

I laughed. I had no idea if he intended to be so hilarious or not, but it didn’t really matter either way. It was no surprise my family loved him so much. And it wasn’t just because his broken English was funny, which I was starting to think was intentional anyway. He was just so
genuine
. He said what was on his mind, and asked questions he wanted answers to. It never felt like he was pretending to act a certain way to fit in like pretty much every other kid did at least a little.

It almost felt like he was immune to the boring North
Dakota single-track mindset in some way. He simply did and said what he felt, without worrying about how odd it may be. That’s just not how most people in North Dakota acted. And I loved that about him.

We rode in silence for a while. I kept looking out the window, watching for any sign of those ominous unmarked sedans. Then I realized I was doing it again, ignoring my directive, and instead just being paranoid.

“So what kind of stuff were you into back home?” I asked.

Olek thought about it for a second and then said, “Well, I like eating strawberry jam with spoon, hypnotizing elderly turtles, collecting old horse hooves to build fort with, um, oh yes, I also really like standing in middle of park pretending to be tree that suffers from serious tree disease, Comandra blister rust.”

I stared at him with my mouth hanging open. I wasn’t sure what to say so I didn’t say anything. But then I caught a glimpse of a small smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. He was messing with me!

“That was good, Olek, you really had me,” I said.

He grinned. “Yes, your face was like that of corpse. I joke of course. Except for part with strawberry jam. I do love eat strawberry jam with spoon. In USA, why is
eating jam with spoon not okay to do? People say this is gross to do, but is no different than eating gummy bear! It make no sense.”

“I have no idea,” I said through a laugh.

But I had to admit, he made a good point. Why did people think it’d be weird to eat jelly with a spoon? It’s just fruit and sugar, the exact same stuff that’s in fruit snacks.

“No, but for real,” he said, “I like mostly same things kids here do. Like play video games, watch movie, play hockey and football. Not your game of throw oblong thingy and then give each other brain damage. I mean,
futbol
. Or, soccer is what you call it here. . . .”

“Was it hard to leave all that behind? I mean, your country, your friends and family, everything?”

His smile faded, but only for a few seconds and then it returned and he shrugged.

“Yes. But is okay, because I make new friends, yeah?”

“Yeah, definitely,” I said.

He kept smiling and then nodded at me.

“Is good,” he said.