CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO ~ OPERATION: COOKIE CUTTER ~ by B.A. Linhares

 

I gather up my notebook and pencil and put them in my backpack. I pause and check my Sean watch. Gym class is in ten minuets. Everybody will want to know about what happened last night. After gym is swim practice. Kelly and Sean will be there too. My stomach begins to churn as I think about what it will be like to confront them. I feel like I’m gonna hurl. How can I just saunter out to the pool and see Sean after everything that’s happened? Maybe I won’t go. So I miss one practice. No, I can’t just not show up. I mean Coach Thompson’s been so understand and all about me missing summer practice. I should go directly to Coach Thompson's office and talk to her. She’ll know how to handle the rumors Char is spreading like wildfire. I guess outside the classroom Josh and me part. I picture him heading in the opposite direction wishing we didn’t have to part. When he’s gone out of sight, I turn and walk toward the door that takes me to the garden. I stop by the bust of Aristotle and read the quote under his chest.

Happiness depends upon ourselves.

I let out a long sigh and zip it up my backpack.

Josh nudges me. “Cookie, are you all right?

“Yeah, why?”

“You look like you’re a million miles away.”

“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking that I need to talk to my swim coach about something.”

“I’ll walk you over if you want,” Josh says as he helps me hoist my heavy backpack on my back. He is so sweet.

I smile. “Okay.”

We go out into the hallway and Josh starts to turn left.

I grab his arm. “Wait, I know a short cut. Follow me.”

I turn right and we go the way I did on Friday.

Josh holds both doors open for me. I really like having him around. Oh, crap. Jimmy Beal is just outside the door, sitting on the top rail, waiting for me, I’m certain. He glares at Josh as we breeze by as if he’s invisible.

Beal screams, “Hey, Josh and Cookie! I need to talk to you!” He jumps down and keeps yelling for us to stop.

“So about tonight,” Josh says, “do you want me to pick you up or do you want to maybe come over early?”

I smile tightly and keep on walking. Josh is at my side. I love that he’s ignoring Beal and keeps talking. I glance over my shoulder and see that Beal is loping across the grass headed in the opposite direction. I say, “Come over as early as you can.” I’m not going to worry about asking him about eating with us. We’ll improvise.

We turn toward the gymnasium. Josh holds up his arm and consults his watch. “I’ll call you when I get home and let you know when I’ll be there.”

“Okay. Great.”

“I figure we can work on the fact sheet and time-line then drive to LOC after it closes.”

 “Warning…” I whisper, as we approach a group of black kids hanging out by a water fountain. As we skirt by them, Josh nods his head boldly at them and most of them mutter “wassup man”. Josh stops to say something to one of them.

I get a whiff of pot and speed up a tad, avoiding eye contact with the boy standing at the end of the railing. I’m not a racist. I just feel better keeping space between me (a blossoming young woman) and boys I don’t know. Call it survival instinct. I walk slowly and hear feet pound on the elevated walkway. I turn and see that Josh is running to catch up with me.

“Had to say hi, since I missed three days last week,” he says breathlessly. “They’re on my basketball team.” For the next few minuets, Josh yammers on about the layups and who scored more lay-up shot, which got more air…yada-yada. “I found out that we are undefeated.”

“Well, good for you guys,” I say, wanting to get back to talking about tonight. I hastily say, “Hey, I have a feeling Ivan’s two goons will probably follow us all night.” Before he can say more about dumb basketball (which I detest), I roll my eyes and add, “I know. I shouldn’t call them goons. I’m sure they’re very nice men. I just can’t get used to having my very own Special Agent and bodyguards. How did someone like Agent Ivan Brody––clearly an important Federal Agent––wind up assigned to little ole moi?”

Josh says, “Dad told me why. It’s because Ivan is number one on the President’s “S” list.”

I draw my mouth down in a bow to show my surprise. “Why is Ivan on the President’s shit list? You’d think he would be on her “A” list. I mean, Agent Brody comes across as someone who should be on missions to take out terrorist leaders. Really bad people. I just have one old dude that could pass for Santa Claus following me around in a taxi cab.”

“We don’t know what Valentine is up to. I wouldn’t underestimate the guy. Look, you have to promise to keep this to your self.”

“Okay. I promise. Scouts honor.” I hold up my two fingers.

“Well, while working a case seems Agent Brody has a tendency to be a maverick. He majorly breaks the rules and goes off on his own. I read on the Internet that during Ivan’s last assignment, he pushed the “proverbial envelope” a little too far and caused a rift between the President of China and our Ambassador. So the Secretary of State asked him to pay his dues by watching over you and Mr. B until they can assure your safety. The Bureau calls it “babysitting”.”

“Babysitting. Geez, Ivan has to hate that.”

“Well...”

After a few steps, I stop when I realize Josh stopped walking. I turn around, frown, and walk back to him. I look up at his big brown eyes and feel a jolt. “What is it?”

Josh places his hands on my shoulders, looks me right in the eyes, and backs me into a little nook between the building. His hands feel very warm through the material. I’m glued to the spot as time and space cease to exist. I think that he’s going to kiss me or something.

Josh drops his hands and says, “Cookie, I don’t think Ivan hates watching over you one little bit. When he came by this morning to pick up my dad, Mom spoke with him. She told me Ivan said that everyone that knew Eva had a ton of respect for your her. In fact, Ivan said that he requested this assignment––not sure if that’s true. Anyway, he told Mom that he feels honored and compelled to be there for you guys, and he’ll do everything in his power to get to the bottom of this. ”

“I kind of got all that last night from him.” I watch the corners of Josh’s mouth curl up in a smile. “And?”

“It’s just that he’s being heckled by the other agents and it gets on his nerves.”

I smile and push by him. I stroll over to the entrance to the girl’s gym and lean my back into the door. “Well, I, um, better go. I have to dress out.”

“Later.” Josh takes a step backwards and holds his hand to his ear like “call me”.

I nod. “Bye.”

I go inside and pause to read the sign taped on the glass part of the door leading out to the pool.

DUE TO A BACTERIA BREAKOUT IN THE POOL

ALL SWIM MEETS ARE CANCELLED

FOR THE REST OF THE WEEK 

SEE COACHES FOR NEW PRACTICE SCHEDULE

Gross! Wait a minuet...this is good news, I don’t have to see Sean or Kelly. I lean back and look up. Thank you God! After several volleyball matches, I go looking for Coach T. anyways to discuss those scholarship apps. She’s in her office. She says that there are no stimulations that she knows about, and gives me the apps. We have another little nice heart-to-heart chat, and then I head to my car at a fast clip. It’s been a strange day. I want to get home and chill before getting with Josh. I stop next to my Mustang, unlock the door, and toss my backpack on the floorboard. As I back out, somebody yells, “Nice wheels!”

My hand goes up automatically. I can’t help but smile and wave I love my Mustang.

“YO! COOK”

I swivel my head and see Char actually running toward me across the parking lot. She has a white sucker stick between her glossy lips and her boobs are bouncing under her purple glittery shirt. She slumps against my car and removes the grape Blow Pop from her mouth trying to catch her breath.

“Don’t you know how dangerous it is running with a sucker in your mouth?”

She pants a few times and fans her face with her hand. Her short brown hair is flat and wet.

“What happened to you new hair-do?”

She tucks the sides behind her ears. “I decided I don’t like the curly look. Bobby said he thought it looks stupid.”

“What do boys know about hair?”

Char takes a compact out of her purse and checks her appearance. “Hey Cook,” she says smoothing down the stubborn curls on the top of her head. “I wanted to talk to you regarding the rumors about Sean and that new chic.”

I sit down in the passenger seat and I remove my sunglasses from the rear view mirror. I ask nonchalantly, “What are you talking about?”

She burst out with a shrill kind of giggle. “Oh. My. God! You haven’t heard. God, you do live in a total mind warp. Okay. Wait until you hear!”

I get out of the car and slide my sunglass on. In my head, I’m screaming, DUH! Thanks to you it’s all over the school! I stand there and glare at Char behind my sunglass. I can’t believe it. She is actually jumping up and down with excitement. She can’t wait to tell me about this. She has ZERO decorum. She pauses and stares at me for a second and I ask myself. If Char knew about the horrible things Sean said to me would she be more sympathetic. What am I thinking? She probably does know every sordid detail. Char could wheedle information out of the KGB. I push my sunglasses up on my nose with my middle finger. “Um, Char, it may surprise you, but I really don’t care to talk about Sean right now. Okay?” I slam the door and skirt around the back headed toward the driver’s side. To avoid conflict and confrontations, I have a tendency to stuff my true feelings and thoughts––I do really! It’s all about fight or flight. That is until someone or something sets me off. This is one of those times.

Char follows me. “I understand sweetie,” she says in her baby-talk-voice.  “Sean told Billy about you and he having a wittle spat about s-e-x.”

I spin around and Char takes a few steps back.  “What? Uhhh! SHUT UP!” I rip off my sunglass and take a step toward Char. “Sean told Billy about our break up!”

Several people nearby shoot us wary glances.

I get in Char’s face and hiss between my teeth, “What else did Sean say?”

Char jumps back. “Hey, don’t yell at me, I’m just the messenger. Char glances around, as if she’s looking for someone to come to her defense.

The girl opening her car door across the way, says, “Whoa people, cat fight about to happen.”

 “Whatever, Char,” I say, about to cry. “Consider our friendship over and done.” I turn my back to her; put my sunglasses back on and yank open the door and check the temperature. My head starts throbbing. The aspirin have worn off.

Char keeps talking, “When Sean couldn’t reach you, he freaked!” She sounds all panicky as if she’s actually telling the truth. I try to tune her out. She comes over and says, “Cook, Sean called Billy’s cell trying to find me to find you.”

I pull my head from inside the car and open the door wide to let out the hot air and look at Char with dagger eyes. How many times has she played me for a fool? Uh, like a million.

“Sean still loves you. This is all a colossally misunderstanding…” Char smiles. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you…” She leans against the side of the Mustang and starts running her mouth about it not being her fault that Sean and I fought.

I hold up my hands. “Look, I’m really tired of this whole BS. I could care less about Sean and his new whore. I just want to go home and forget him!”

Char laughs. “Whoa, you said the “w” word.”

I roll my eyes and climb behind the steering wheel.

Char squats down and looks at me with big sad eyes. “I seriously tried to give you the heads up about them, but you never returned my calls.”

I shrug and fire up the engine. “Been busy.”

She smiles slyly. “Hey, right. Forget those two. I hear you’ve moved on. Word is you’re hanging out with Josh O'Dell…he’s looking oh so fine.”

I can’t help but smile. It’s true, Josh does look fine and I have been spending most of my time with him lately.

Char sticks the purple ball that is tiny now, back in her mouth and twirls the white stick between her fingertips. “Spill.”

I chew on my bottom lip and stare at her a minuet, debating if I should confide in her or strangle her. I decide the jail time wouldn’t be worth it. Hum, on the other hand, if I pay attention to what she has to say just maybe I can garner the whole story on Sean and Kelly and somehow use it to my advantage. Besides...Char has the attention span of a cat. If Billy shows up, she’s outta here. Who knows when or if I’ll get the chance to talk to her again? I turn off the engine, get out and close the car door. I cross my arms over my chest. “Okay, spill it Char. Tell me everything you know about Kelly and Sean.”

Char glances right and left as if to see who’s within earshot. “Well, I really don’t know that much about Kelly because her family just moved to Georgetown, like, two weeks ago. Her father is…um…pretty important…I think her father works at the Capital or something like that.”  

Char pauses trying to remember. She puckers her perfect brows and holds the nearly gone sucker between thumb and finger, tapping it on her pursed lips; either that or she’s trying to frame something juicy that is total BS. I bug my eyes at her and bite my tongue. ALBRIGHT, you airhead, speed it up!

Seeing my irritation Char knits her forehead and says, “Oh, screw it, I can’t remember his last name right now. All the guys are gaga because Kelly is, like, totally stacked and drives a Mercedes sports car.” Char emphasizes the word ‘stacked’ by sticking out her chest. “When she showed up at CB’s on Saturday, all the guys were drooling—except my Billy of course.” Char shrugs and waves the sucker around, emphasizing her story. “Guys are vulnerable and weak that way. Your recent break up put poor Sean in a tailspin. He was a wreck. Especially when he saw Josh pulls up at your house Sunday.”

I bug my eyes at Char. “Oh poor baby!”

I want to scream, “SHUT UP” again and smack the sucker out of her hand. Doesn’t she care one iota about my feelings? I fight the urge to just lose it right here in the parking lot in front of everyone and rip Char’s head off and kick it over the fence. Instead, I simply slide behind the wheel and unlatch the convertible top. Char keeps talking. From inside the car I can only make out a little bit of what she’s saying. I don’t really care anymore. I get out again, and struggle with the convertible top. “Hello. It’s easier if two people help.” Hint-hint.

Char comes over and helps me for about a second. She almost breaks a nail and steps away from the Mustang. She examines the damage and says, “Kelly said that she couldn’t because Sean was coming over all week.”

“Why?’ I only halfway listen to her babbling so I don’t understand.

“Aren’t you listening? Sean is helping arrange some of the heavy furniture in Kelly’s bedroom––or something like that. And Taylor—you know her. She’s the cheerleader that’s on your swim team. Taylor is going over to Kelly’s house to see if she wants to try out…”

I struggle with the cover and throw up my hands. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but could you give me a hand with this?”

“Sorry,” Char says, waggling her fingers to show me her French manicure.

I smile tightly at her, tug the cover over the top, and then work my way around the trunk, snapping down the canvas cover. Luckily, I have no fingernails to speak of.

Char says, “Sean told Billy about last Friday in your car—” She stops mid sentence as if deciding how much she should tell me.

I wave my hand. “Don’t leave anything out on my account Char. Heck. The media will probably report it on the eleven o’clock news tonight.”

Char continues, “Sean said that he was in love with you…”

I stop snapping and turn around to face her squarely. “Oh, puh-lease, Sean isn’t in love with me! He wants to get into my pants!”

“Fine whatever, but he was extremely distraught last weekend.”

“Distraught?”

“You ignore him all week. He said it broke his heart that you refused to even talk about it.”

From the corner of my eye I see her standing on her tiptoes, chewing on the bubble gum that comes buried in the center of her sucker. She puffs out her cheeks and a small lavender bubble squeezes between pink glossed lips, then she bites down popping the bubble.

I finish snapping down the cover and lean on the side of the Mustang. “So if Sean was sooo “distraught” why was he sucking face with Kelly at CB’s?”

Char shrugs. “That’s not entirely Sean’s fault. Billy and I took him to CB’s, to cheer him up…and Kelly just happened to be there.”

This is too much. I tap my chin with my finger. “Hum…so Sean said I broke his heart?”

Char nods her head and blows another bubble.

“Well, let me translate that for you…Sean Palmer is a selfish slime ball liar! Because I refused to sleep. He left me alone in the parking lot! And because he was soo HORNY, he latched onto Kelly Albright hoping she will take care of his needs. If I old enough to bet, I’d bet she has done just that.”

A look of revelation comes over Char’s face. “That’s it—Kelly Albright.”

I roll my eyes skyward. “Kelly just happened along at the right time!”

“Okay, I confess...that’s pretty much the way it went. But you can’t put all the blame on Sean. I mean, get real. Who stays virgin theses days? What’s the big deal?”

“I’d tell you Char, but you’d never understand.” I lean against my car and cross my arms trying to look cool, calm and collected. At least the little tree next to my space gives me a little shade from the sun.

Char blows another purple bubble and sucks it back into her mouth. Then she says this loud enough for anyone within fifty feet to hear. “Inquiring minds want to know why staying a virgin so freaking important to you? I’ll keep it secret.”

Char MacDougal could keep a secret if her life depended on it. Okay. This confirms my worst fears that the whole freaking school now knows that I’m a still a virgin. I cringe and glance at the people around us. Is it my imagination or is everyone looking my way.

Char step closer to me and tugs on my hair. “I’m serious Cook. What you tell me stays with me.” Char frowns; no it’s more of a pouty face. “Cross my heart.”

I speak softly, “You don’t have a heart.”

Char stomps her foot. “Yes I do!”

I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair. “Look. Just forget it,” I tell her sternly and put my hand on the door handle yanking it open. “I have to go.” I turn and shake my finger in her face. “And from now on––what I do with my life is my prerogative.”

Char draws back her head. “Damn, what did you do with Cook?”

She holds up her hand and I smack it away. Then we girl hug. What do you know? For once I’m standing up to Char and it’s as if she suddenly sees me in a new light. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll show me some respect.

Right.

“B-F-Fs for life,” Char says, stepping back looking me up and down. She doesn’t wait for my snide comeback. “I like the new improved Cookie.”

The sudden blaring of sirens fills the air. Startled, we both scream and look out across the parking lot. The line of cars trying to exit the school is in gridlock. The people in their cars and walking around get on their cell phones and Blackberries. Char and I run across the grass and stand next to the chain-link fence to see if there was an accident. A string of yellow school buses and five police cars are vying for the front access. Across the way, my bodyguards are inside their black car with the darkly tinted windows rolled up tight. I imagine the engine is running and the AC is on full blast.

“Holy crap!” Char shouts and takes out her cell phone. Mine is in my car inside my backpack. She holds up her finger and says, “I have connections.” She punches Senator Brennan’s saved direct line and puts the tiny cell to her ear. She frowns. “Damn, it sent me to a full mailbox!”

I go over to my Mustang, find my cell and power it up. I punch in Agent Brody’s number. Then I click off thinking what can he do?

I the closest people sitting in their car ask me, “What’s going on? Was there an accident?”

I shrug. “Don’t know, but it looks like we’re stuck here for awhile.”

My cell goes off. There’s a strange number on my screen. I put it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Agent Ivan Brody. Cookie? You just called me and hung up. Are you okay?”

“Yes. um, sorry,” I say, speaking in a low voice as I back away from the crowd. I turn my back and cup my hand around my mouth, “I accidently hit your number.” I explain about the crazy situation here and Ivan tells me he will find out what is going on and call me back. I click off and Char sees me walking over.

“Senator Brennan called me back. All anybody can do is wait to find out what’s going on. It’s too hot to sit in my car so we lean on the little shade tree. Char is in no hurry to leave, one because Billy is at football practice and she doesn’t dare be seen without him glued to her side. And two her snooping addiction is too strong to leave without being one of the first to know what is going on. She really should become a journalist.

Speaking of curiosity… I look at Char and ask, “So, is that all you got? I mean on Kelly?”

She looks at me and smiles wickedly. “Well, I hear her family moved here from LA, they bought that mansion near your house.”

I nod. “I heard.” I reach out and pluck a leaf off the tree.

“Oh, and she’s an expert surfer. Zak told me she competed with the top women surfers in Malibu. You probably saw her on ESPN.” Char hip bumps me. “You like surfing, right? Kelly can give you some tips before you go to Cocoa Beach!” I give Char the evil eye and she says, “Just kidding. God, lighten up all ready.”

I say, “Great. Being a pro surfer means she swims like a fish.”

Char sticks out her chest. “Billy and the guys said if she wipes out, her big ta-tas will keep her afloat.” Char leans forward and starts cracking up. The wad of purple gum flies out of her mouth. It lands in an oily puddle and starts melting on the hot asphalt.

She shrugs. “Oh well. It lost all of it flavor and my jaw was starting to hurt.” She lowers her voice and says, “Did you know that Kelly had an abortion? I heard that she had an affair with a college professor, three times her age, in LA.”

“Char, you don’t have to say mean stuff about Kelly on my behalf.”

“Okay I made all it up. Kelly is as innocent as driven snow. Like I said, you two have a lot in common.” Char’s cell goes off and she practically drops it trying to put it to her ear. “Hi, Senator Brennan?” She slaps on a huge toothy smile and waves at somebody behind me. Then she wanders away to talk to Billy’s dad.

I turn around and see Lindsey Morgan in her new baby blue convertible Beemer—or is it Bimmer? I heard via Char that she won it on a reality show. “So you want to be a super Model.” Or something to that effect. Whatever, I’ll take my classic stang over a Beemer any day. Lindsey pulls up parallel to my car and guides the gearshift into park. Her long straight hair is blowing in the soft breeze. Even though Lindsey is attending Harvard next year, she has hopes to travel the planet and be the next super model in her spare time she also wants to cure hunger. All this information was in her acceptance speech as the senior class president.

Lindsey slides her Ray Bans down on her perfect nose and peers over the tortuous shell frames with big blue eyes and dark lashes. “Hi Cookie. Awesome car—what is that a Mustang?”

I open my mouth to say “yes” and Lindsay looks past me and says, “There you are Char! Billy sent me looking for you. We’re all going to my house for a swim.”

“OH. MY. GOD Lindsey,” Char squeals and dances around the Beemer. “Your car is so hot!” Char touches her finger to her tongue then put it on her butt. “Give me a lift over the sports field?”

“Hello,” Lindsey says, pushing up her sunglasses. She leaning across the seat to opens the passenger door for Char. “That’s why I’m here. Get in silly. Billy and Peter already left. There hot and thirsty, if you know what I mean.”

I’m hoping they take off soon. I’ve heard enough about Kelly and Sean to last me a lifetime.

Yes!

Just before hopping in Lindsay’s car, Char looks at me and blows me a kiss. “Love you later!”

I smile sweetly and wave. I watch Char get in and tug at the hem of her shirt. “Damn him, I can’t go like this.” She pulls down the vanity mirror then whips out her lip gloss from the $200.00 Betseyville Metallica purse (Billy’s mom bought her).

The line of cars exiting the front of the school, keeps them from leaving just yet so I move around the trunk, pretending to smooth the convertible cover and hear Lindsey say, “Come on!”

“So tell me again. Where is Billy?” Char asks fluffing her hair with her fingers.

“Billy on the way to my house with Peter. Later, we’re going to my parents club for dinner. Sean and Kelly are coming too. That is if we ever get out of here!”

“Can I borrow an outfit?”

“Of course.” Lindsey says. Then she lays on the horn hard and the cars part like the red sea, letting her drive through.

I picture Sean hanging around Taylor’s pool with, Kelly decked out in a bikini, and jumps into my Mustang, shut the door and fire up the engine. I look around, back out going against traffic, and weave through the empty spaces between the new temporary classrooms. As I turn the corner by staff parking, I’m going a little too fast and lay a little rubber. Yikes. I hope my tires are okay. I pat the dash. “Sorry little Mustang, but I’m FUMING!” I pray nobody saw me speeding. My yellow Mustang sticks out like a sore thumb. I drive down the narrow access road behind the school, fretting about security cameras. Behind the lunchroom, I jet past a row of dumpsters out the rear exit, through the truck delivery gates. I completely evade the sucky after school traffic. I glance in my rear view mirror thinking, wow, from now on, that is the way to go.

Once I’m on a regular street, I put in a CD and let out a long breath. I vow to NEVER speak to Char again—well––for at least a week or two. Over the years, I’ve learned to forgive Char’s screwy personality, but I’m over her BS. I drive past the school entrance and my two bodyguards, standing next to the black car. I grip the steering wheel and raise my eyes to the rear view mirror. The two guys are getting into the car.

I speed up and hold my breath as I pass a big garbage truck and head down back streets toward home. It a four-way stop, look up at the sky, it’s completely covered with heavy gray clouds. Now I wish I hadn’t put my convertible top down. Oh well, I’ll be home in less than five minuets. I turn right and see that the black car is behind the garbage truck. This is so weird.

I take out the CD and turn the radio on full blast. I don’t know the words, but I sing along with the first song that comes on. It’s a woman singing about her cheatin man. I blink back hot tears and focus on the lyrics. What is it with country and western songs?

a humongous moving van pulls in ahead of me off one of the side streets. It has California plates. Holy crap, could that be Kelly Albright’s stuff arriving? Its break lights on come on at the stop sign on Elm and R Street, and I press down on my breaks. The moving van just sits there unmoving.

I toot my horn. “It’s a four-way stop. Let’s go people!” I hear a clap of thunder in the distance and a sudden gust of wind blows my hair in a swirl. Black angry clouds are forming overhead. Uhhh! That’s all I need.

The driver of the moving van turns on his right blinker and inches through the intersection, making a wide right turn. The song on the radio ends abruptly and dramatic background music sets the mood for the top of the hour news. A deep voice says, “The temperature in DC reached into the high nineties today. Expect thunderstorms tonight.

I roll forward and come to a full stop, checking left and then right for oncoming traffic. A car is coming so I wait just encase they don’t stop. I half-way listen to the news and watch the car heading toward me. The car has its left blinker flashing. I recognize the car. It belongs to Mr. and Mrs. Palmer—the window is down and Sean is behind the wheel. Kelly’s blond head is on his shoulder. So it’s really over.

And now for breaking news: Two security guards tried to apprehend a suspicious looking man dressed in a black overcoat and black derby styled hat today while he cut through a chain length fence at Georgetown High School today. Police were called to the school, but the man somehow escaped. A suspicious looking package was found nearby the hole and an ASMAT team was called to the scene. If you know anything or saw anyone meeting this description, call the FBI Hotline or your local police department. Do not approach him. He is armed and dangerous.”

I blink. “Wait a minuet... what did he say about a man in black?” I turn up the volume and strain my ears.

“Stay tuned for the latest stock...”

“Uh! I missed it!”

I flip the radio off and follow Sean from a good distance. Sure enough, vanity license plate says “Diplomat Palmer”. To think that I almost lost my virginity in that very car, a couple of times… I lose it as Sean turns on Maple Leaf Lane and parks in the circular drive in front of the Albright’s mansion. The moving van is parked on the narrow street blocking through traffic. I stop a few houses down and see that my bodyguards are right behind me. Oh well too bad. We’ll have to turn around to get out. The sprinkler system is on at the Albright’s, and when Sean gets out of the car, the front of his pants gets soaked. I sit there stunned, tears running down my face, but have to laugh at this. Kelly runs over and turns off the water and they go inside. I envision getting out and marching up to the door. “I hope you know that this squelches and hopes of reconciling with me, Sean Palmer!”

A horn blows behind me and I jump. I resist giving him the finger—that’s so immature. I swipe at my face with my hands, glancing in the rear view mirror at my bodyguards, Mutt and Jeff, and put the Mustang in drive.

Feeling numb to the core, I turn around and go home. I turn off the engine and sit there staring out the windshield at the garage door. I don’t pull inside since I’ll be going out later. I close my eyes and start thinking about everything. Faces spin round and round through my mind. It as if I’m on a tilt-a-whirl: Sean, Kelly, Char, Pop, Josh, Agent Werthoust, Ivan Brody, Mr. Jackson, and Mom they’re all talking at once. The old fruitcake stalking me winks and I block him out and picture Josh only. Josh O'Dell is sweet; he’d never ever say mean things to me or treat me the way Sean did––like a piece of meat. Hum, where did that thought come from? It’s true. Some guys think they are all that and Josh is just—sweet and kind and…

It starts sprinkling rain.

I get out and put up the convertible top. I notice the two men have pulled into a space across the street in front of Rosie’s house. I can’t see through the darkly tinted windows, but I feel their eyes watching me. A bolt of lightning crashes nearby. I grab my backpack and scurry up to the house, pausing on the porch. I glance up at the gathering storm and began to wonder if my life will ever be normal again. I feel sorry for the two guys sitting in their car, but hey, that’s what they do. The rain is really coming down now and the wind is blowing it sideways. I’m starting to get really wet. I insert my key and let myself in then quickly punch in the security code.

“Pop?” I call out dropping my stuff by the stairs. No answer. I look at my reflection in the mirror above the table in the foyer. I’m a wreck, my face is all blotchy from crying and my hair is a windblown tangled mess.

“What’s this?” I reach up a take down a note taped to the mirror.

Hi Love, hope you had a great day at school. I am at the International Trade Center until about 8:00 tonight. I’ll fill you in later. Hey, I got a gig for us - catering Senator Ethan Andrew West and Mary Bess Rothschild Wedding. Check it out on our nifty Chef C.A.B.’s Catering website.

Lots of food in the fridge,

Love, Pop

I fold it and poke it in my pocket. I was so lost in my thoughts; I didn’t notice that Pop’s van wasn’t in the driveway. Ivan never called me back. I wonder if the surveillance van is still outback. I didn’t even think to look when I drove in. Now I’m glad Mutt and Jeff are outside.

“Cool!”

I smile and glace around. I have the whole house to myself. I really need some “me” time right now to re-group or whatever. I crawl up the stairs, go into my room, and drop my backpack on the floor next to my desk. I start the Goo-Dolls CD Josh gave me for my birthday and turn up the volume so I can hear it over the hard rain smacking against the windowpane. Thunder booms in the distance. I toss the note on my desk and power up my laptop and look out the window. The van is gone. Okay. Maybe it’s in a different spot.

After I use the toilet, I change into sweats and a tank top, clomp down the stairs, and go into the kitchen. It’s spotless as usual. I peer out the back window to see if Beggar might be out there getting wet. He’s either taken off or hunkered down somewhere. I hum as I get some grub––a large piece of apple pie and melt cheddar cheese on top in the micro. I grab a fork and a big glass of milk, go back upstairs, and get on my computer. I eat and check out our new catering job. Last Saturday, Pop got online and purchased a domain name. ChefCABCatering.com. Using a simple template, I built his catering business website and database. We think it looks very professional. I look at Pop’s note again: Senator Ethan Andrew West and Mary Bess Rothschild Wedding. Hum, it sounds very ritzy. I research Andrews and Rothschild.

“Whoa. Richey-rich-rich.”

I read about them and finish my snack. Then get up, take my dishes downstairs, raise them off, and put them in the dishwasher. I return to my room, stop, and stare out the dormer window. It’s baaack. I get Mom’s binoculars and crawl inside the window. I can just make out the roof of the surveillance van through the rain and oak tree branches.

My cell beeps telling me I have new messages. There was so much going on I completely forgot to check.  I take it out of my backpack, scroll through the menu, and listen to them in the order they came. Sure enough, Pop left me a couple about his plans. I stupidly consider that Char came to her sense and called to say she was sorry. Fat chance. She’s livin 'La Vida Loca.

Whoa. Sean called. I listen to his message. It a perfect explanation as to why he was with Kelly Albright’s house. He promised to help them move yada-yada. Oh what a good neighbor. Oh wait; you don’t live in her neighborhood. I know what you’re up to Sean, stop lying. I delete his message and set my phone.

Stop thinking about them, do something constructive, says the little voice in my head—concentrate on Mom’s investigation—

and pull out the center drawer. I dump the stuff inside it and place it upside down on the bed. I run my fingers over the name stamped or whatever on the bottom panel. “Are you my relative?” I put the roll-top down, and then step back letting my eyes roam over the bulky desk. It looks almost ominous to me it. I stare at it until my vision blurs and it seems to pulsate as if it has a life of its own. I shiver and yawn. All of this constant worrying has zapped me. It’s going to be another late night. At least my head doesn’t hurt right now.

I look at my bed. Maybe if I lay down for just a moment. Stretching out on my side, I prop the drawer on my chair and stare at the ornate designs painted on the front and side of the desk. Could this desk hold family secrets about Mom? Exhaustion drops down a weight so heavy onto my body I can’t keep my eyes open. My lids feel like they’re weighted down by bricks and my head feels fuzzy, and numb. Valentine’s face flashes before me as I drift off. I’m at the Checkmart. He’s wearing the big black spy coat and Dick Tracy hat. The collar is turned up. His eye winks like one of those Cracker Jack prizes that changes or moves as the image is viewed from different angles. I see him in a dark elevator…

Half asleep, I murmur, “No…don’t want to think about him…”  

I hear Dr. Susan say, when you feel scared or depressed, think about the good things in your life. Josh’s soft brown eyes replace the man in black. It morphs into Ivan Brody’s handsome rugged face. His crew stands around him with their hands on their hip. They look like a bunch of super heroes and they’re outside watching over you. You’re safe and sound.

I drift deeper and deeper into sleep, and dream about our Labor Day trip to Florida that’s coming up really fast. Even though I’ve never physically been in or seen an actually ocean in person, I’ve surf boarded over giant waves a thousand times in my mind. I imagine what it will be like lying on my stomach on surfboard in a bikini on a beautiful tropical day. I’m paddling over the top of salty rolling waves; the sun warms my bare shoulders. I stand up balancing on the surfboard as I slip into a fluid curl and into blackness. Suddenly, I am no longer in Florida on a surfboard. I’m lying in fluffy white snow petrified with fear while Pop removes my skis. He smiles down at me looking worried. He asks me if anything hurts. I’m small. Eight years old. I shake my head “no”. Then I feel something wet on the side of my face. I look at Pop and quickly pretend it’s just snow melting. It happens when snow is stuck in my hair. I reach under my ski cap, touch my temple and look at my fingers. They’re covered with my blood and I’m terrified. I ask, “I’m I going to die?”

Pop examines my head and presses a clean handkerchief to the wound. “Of course not love. It’s not deep. Just a tiny scratch. Head wounds bleed more than others.”

If only I’d listen to Pop’s forewarning. He said the intermediate slope was a lot harder to maneuver than the beginner bunny slopes. But I can do it, insisted. So he let me try. It was so steep. I lost control of my skis and went off the course. I slammed headfirst into a tree stump buried in the snow. He carefully pulls me to my feet. I wobble so he holding my hand tightly. With my free hand, I push our floor number on the shinny brass panel of button. We’re in the elevator we always rode up to our suit in the Alpine Chalet Resort in Austria. Pop loosens his grip a little and puts more pressure on the handkerchief that’s against my temple. I whimper and he explains it’s to stop the bleeding. “Does it hurt a lot Cookie?”

“Not that bad.” I force a little smile, but my lower lip quivers defying my false bravado.

The elevator comes to a jarring stop and the doors open. A large man dressed all black smiles down at me as he enters. I look up. He’s wearing a funny black furry hat. There are binoculars like Mommy’s hanging around his neck on straps. I shudder, but continue to study the man as if he were a creature from outer space. He cocks his head and the overhead lights illuminate his eyes. The white area and the pupils are visible they look shine wetly. Coarse jet-black hair frames his wide ashen face and his eyes look like dark pits beneath thick bushy eyebrows.

It’s the boogieman.

He nods hello to us, reaches across me, and pushes a button. I hold my breath while he pushes the same number as us with a hand in a black leather glove. The letters F and K are embroidered in the space next to his thumb in white thread. The bookie man’s room is on the same floor as our room. He steps back against the wall I raise my chin slightly and look up at his face. He looks down and winks at me while removing his funny looking hat. The elevator doors close. He folds the hat into a small black square and puts it in a pocket on the side of his long overcoat. I stare openly at him and him at me. I want to look away from his piercing stare but I can’t. There’s a small red heart birthmark above his left bushy black eyebrow. It’s the only thing with color in my dream. As the elevator starts moving I feel dizzy. I sway. Everything looks fuzzy for a minute then it passes and I’m okay.

Pop’s voice breaks the quiet. “My daughter had a little skiing accident. Nothing a band aid and some hot cocoa won’t fix.” I drop my eyes and scoot in closer to his side. He squeezes my head a little tighter and tells me softly, “We’re almost there sweetheart.”

I force a smile and a sharp stab of pain shoots through my scalp making me bite down on my tongue. I can taste blood in my mouth. I moan. and roll over and go back to sleep.

The elevator stops and the wall in front of us splits open, I start shivering uncontrollably. I’m scared. Something bad is going to happen. I force my legs to move as we step forward, leaving the elevator, and enter a big hallway. The man follows us out of the elevator. He says something, but I don’t understand it’s in a foreign language.

While Pop fumbles with our skis and the room card, I watch the man. He pauses down the way and turns to look at me. Then everything goes black again and my dream changes yet again. I’m much older now, a teenager. I’m alone in the Alpine Resort again, next to the door to our suite. Someone is watching me from the shadows. Suddenly I am thrown into a new dream. I’m at school sitting beside the pool. The black taxi is on the other side of the boundary fence. Now I’m looking out my bedroom window. Valentine is standing in our backyard. He’s in Safeway. He’s following my Mustang––at CB’s. He’s stalking me relentlessly everywhere I go. I’m back at the Alpine, out in the hallway. I hear a muffled scream on the other side of our door.

I cram my hands into my ski jacket pockets looking for my card key. “MOM,” I call through the door while trying to unlock the door. My key won’t work. I bang on the door. “MOM, OPEN THE DOOR!”

“Hey! Cookie!”  Strong hands grab my wrist. “Cookie, wake up. It’s just a nightmare!”

I open my eyes. Josh O’Dell is looming over me. I get a whiff of his citrus aftershave. He smells better than any guy I’ve ever known. I think great Josh is big and strong. He can help me knock down the door. I blink my eyes and he’s gone. I open my mouth to call for him—but nothing comes out. I’m so cold. I close my eyes and pull the covers up to my chin.

Josh shakes me a little. “Wake up Cookie, you’re dreaming.” His eyes are like saucers and he’s breathing hard. I feel his breath on my face it smells like cinnamon. What’s he do here in my room?

I rub my eyes and sit up on my elbows groggily. “Josh?”

“I woke you up because you were screaming in your dream.” He’s wearing blue jeans and a nice collarless navy shirt. He comes back over beside the bed.

I scoot back and lean into the headboard. “Huh?’ I glace at my digital alarm clock is blinking 12:00. The electricity must’ve gone off. I only wanted to lie down for a minute or two. I guess I fell asleep. What time is it?”

Josh consults his watch, “Almost seven.” He dashes around my bedroom, checking behind the door and in my closet.

I shut my eyes and try to do the math, but my neurons won’t compute. I open my eyes and look at him.

He waves his hand and I see that he’s holding his cell phone.  “I called three times and left messages each time. I was this close to calling nine-one-one.” Josh closes my closet door and holds his finger apart about an inch.

“Sorry. I must’ve zonked out. I never heard my phone.”

“I didn’t know what to think. I got worried and came over here.”

“I’m fine.”

“Cookie, you’re front door was wide open when I got here!” He says breathlessly. “I heard you screaming so I ran upstairs. When I go up here I saw that you were having a bad dream…you know what….” he says, and turns to go. “Stay put for a second.”

“Why?” I lean forward. “Josh, are you going?” I throw off the covers, realize I’m not exactly dressed for company and pull them back over my thin tank top.

“To check the other rooms.” He pauses in the doorway, picks up my umbrella, and holds it like a sword.

Josh looks at me. “Don’t move. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I hear Josh opening and closing the doors in the hall and jump out of my bed, blinking myself out of sleep. My brain still feels fuzzy as grab jeans and a sweatshirt and goes inside my closet close the door and change. I come out and run a brush through my tangled hair avoiding my temple at all cost. The three aspirin will probably wear off soon, but for now my head doesn’t hurt at all. I go over and peek around the door casing. “What exactly are you looking for?”

“Not sure.” Josh paces the hallway once more, and then glances over the railing. He turns around and walks up to me. “I wanted to make sure nobody was lurking somewhere waiting to ambush us.”

I try not to laugh. This sounds so absurd. I recall my dream. Or does it. Step back and Josh comes into my bedroom and leans into the window seat, peering out at the backyard intently. “Looks like it stopped raining.”

I sit on the edge of my bed and slide on my sandals.

He holds his hands to the side of his face. “Did you know that the surveillance van is gone?”

“It is?” I blink a few times still trying to process why our front door was open, that Josh is here looking for a perpetrator, and analyze my weird elevator dream. Was it about Valentine or did I just put him there?

“Maybe your dad left the front door open. Could he be in the garage or at neighbors?”

“Huh?” My gaze goes to the roll top desk. I picture Pop’s note. “No, Pop is at catering job consultation for a wedding reception.” I sit forward, prop my elbows on my thighs and my hair falls forward. “He’s meeting the couple or something.”

Josh looks over his shoulder at me and backs out of the window. He crosses the floor and stands in front of me, looking perplexed. “Just wonder why your front door was wide open.”

“I know I shut it. I distinctly remember locking it and setting the alarm.” Agent Brody’s instructions rang loud and clear.

“It’s cold in here.”

“Maybe my mom ghost opened our front door.” I’m joking, but I half-way believe that this could be a possibility. Truth is stranger than fiction. At any rate, Josh doesn’t laugh at me little joke.

I ask, “Was there a black car parked out front?”

“I don’t know. Why?” He pauses and nods his head. “Oh right. Your bodyguards.”

I sit up and gather my hair to one side. “Yeah. They followed me home from school.”

The news report about a bomb and man cutting through the fence slides through my memory like a snake. I shiver and look at him. My overhead light is bright behind his dark head. He sits down next to me. This is the second time he has been on my bed in less than a week. Does he even know about that? Josh turn sideway over bringing his face very close to mine. Josh’s eyes travel my face. Hello. My stalker is the last thing I want to talk about right now.

Josh frowns.

I touch my face remembering the milk and pie I had earlier. “What? Do I have food on my face?” I wipe my mouth with my hand wondering if I have a crusty milk mustache.

“No,” Josh says slowly and with all seriousness, “I was picturing how your looked when I came into your room. You had your hand on the side of your head.” He places his hand on the side of his head. Then his eyes go to the side of my face. He raises his hand and gently pushes back my hair.

“Don’t!” I jerk away from him and stand up abruptly. I don’t want him to see the scar and have to explain my fears.

Josh looks up at me surprised.  He says “Sorry. I just…”

I shake my head. “I’ve been fighting off a headache and I’m a little over emotional right now.” His expression tells me that he’s old enough to get that these symptoms mean it’s that time of the month. I blow out my next breath. “Josh, tell me again why you drove over here so early.”

His eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean? I just told you. We made plans to go to the LOC. Did you forget that I was coming over?” He sounds perplexed.

 “No…um, of course not, I’m just a little confused…I didn’t think you were coming until after eight o’clock.” I sit back down on my bed keeping my distance. Not because of Josh. I don’t trust my feeling for him.

He says, “Cookie, we never set a time.”

I know. I just wanted to change the subject.

He pauses. “Look, I can go if you don’t want me here.”

“No. Please don’t go. I was just curious as to what made you come over so early.” I don’t want Josh to think I am unappreciative of all his help. I mean, without him I would—no doubt—flunk Advanced Chemistry.

Josh nods earnestly. “I left school and heard on the radio about the bomb and the weirdo cutting through the school’s fence. I was actually helping some distant family friends of the move in a block over from here. We stopped when it starting raining. That’s I called you…you know the rest of the story.”

My jaw drops. “You were at Kelly Albright’s house? With Sean Palmer?”

“Yeah and some other guys were there helping too. Why?”

“Long story.”

Josh sees my irritated expression. “Oh, sorry. Sean mentioned in so many words that your two aren’t speaking right now.”

“Sean said that to you? That we’re not speaking right now?”

“Uh, not directly. I overheard Sean say it to Mrs. Albright.”

I swipe at a lone tear threatening to roll down my cheek.

“Everybody was talking about your Mom.”

I wave my hand thinking why do I even care. “Josh, Sean and I are not going out anymore. We broke up Wednesday.” I pull tissues out of the box next to my bed and blow my noses.

Josh gives me a minute.

After I wad up the tissues and toss them into my little wastebasket, he asks softly, “Are you okay?”

 “Yeah.” I shake my head and rub my bare arms. My room is still freezing. Josh glances around the room and blows into his fist. He feels it too. I already told Josh that I think that it’s Mom trying to send us a message of some sort. Even so, I’ll let him bring up the fact that it feels like an ice box in here, every time he comes over.

I get up, pick up the drawer, toss the stuff in, and slide it back in place. As I push back my roll-top desk and wake up my computer, Josh rises up, grabs his book bag leaning against the far wall, and pulls the spare chair over next to my desk chair. He sits down next to me and I click out of Pop’s website. Josh takes his notebook out of his satchel. “Um, I didn’t get anything done since I was over at the Albright’s...”  

I flick a look at Josh and say, “Um. Me neither.” I sigh deeply and sit up straighter. “We need to talk about my stalker and my dream.”

“Okay. I’m all ears.”

I smile. “Anyway, was I really screaming that loud?”

“Let’s just say I couldn’t climb the stairs fast enough.”

I look up at the ceiling and make a face. “Yeah. What the heck. Right?” I feel Josh watching me and I turn and look at him.

“Tell me about your dream. I’m told I’m a pretty good listener.”

I drop my eyes and stare at my hands as I mull over how much I should tell him. Just give him the basics of the dream. I lay out my dream following the fall in the snow.

“So this guy in your dream looked like Valentine?”

I nod “yes” and show him the pictures I took in the Mall. I open the book Mr. J gave me and we compare the two faces using my magnifying glass. “Check it out. They have the exact same mole on their nose.”

Josh holds the glass over the black and white photo of Fredrik Koshechka and then the color print-out. “Oh yeah.”

“The dude in the Mall is definitely wearing a disguise.”

“Wait a minute. This is where you tell me that I’m under a lot of stress. That it’s normal to dream about someone I’m thinking about constantly––that I’m just imagining all this…”

“No. Why would I? I can clearly see the likenesses. Same dark eyes, bushy eyebrows, height, build the birthmark. His age checks out too.” Josh turns on the lamp next to my bed and studies the pictures some more. “You said that the man in the elevator looked younger, less gray in his and fewer wrinkles around his eyes.”

“I’m just playing devils advocate. Mr. J said we had to go there because we need to trot out weak arguments.”

“Right. And on top of all that, I had a really awful day today.”

“Yeah. News flash. I had to deal with a lot of crap today as well and I say we have a match here.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m the son of a cop. Remember?” Josh holds the magnifying glass up to his eye and mumbles, “The only good part of today happened in Mr. J’s class while I was with you Watson.” 

I feel my face heat up and turn to face my monitor screen.

Josh lays the fuzzy color picture next to the grainy black and while photo of the KGB Agent, Fredrik Koshechka. “Even though these are pretty bad quality, I’d say that it’s definitely the same dude Agent Blakely.”

I smile at Josh. “Thanks Agent O’Dell.”

“You did all the work.”

“Thanks for not blaming my strange dream on my “wild imagination” or anxiety.”

“So Char broke the camel’s back.”

“Well, on top of everything else, Char and I got into it out in the parking lot this afternoon because of the rumors she was spreading about Sean and Kelly being an item.” Wow, Josh is very perceptive. “So you knew all along.”

Before he can answer, I throw up my hands and laugh. “Of course you did. You were over there helping. Plus all the sordid details about Kelly and Sean were flying around school today.”

“I don’t normally listen to the prima donnas, but now that I’m involved…yeah,” Josh says in almost a whisper. “I sort of got that you and Sean weren’t an item anymore when I saw them today. Let’s just say they were pretty chummy.” 

 “Ewe! Stop! I don’t want to hear any more.” I put my elbows on my desktop and cover my ears. “Uh…you know what. I don’t care if they’re doing it like bunnies. I’m moving on.”

Josh laughs at this. “Bunnies huh?”

I laugh too. I look at Josh “Hey, I’m starving. Are you hungry?”

Josh
smiles. “Are you kidding? I’m a bottomless pit.”

“Well, we have a ton of food in our fridge.” I stand up, grab Josh’s hand, and pull him out of his chair. “I’ll fill you in on all of the drama while we stuff our faces. But you have to promise not to tell a soul.” I picture Char hanging out at the pool with Sean and Kelly. “Knowing Char, the whole world probably already knows my most intimate secrets by now.”

“I don’t know your most intimate secrets,” Josh says, and then pauses.

I laugh and mentally see him kissing me.

Josh’s cheeks are bright pink. “Wait…did I say that aloud?” 

“Yes!” Lucky he can’t see my thoughts.

He shrugs. “Oh, well…um, even more important…show me how lucky you are to have a Chef for a Dad…I’m starving!”

I grab my cell phone and stick it in my jeans pocket.

Josh

says, “I sort of like being a mushroom. You know, left in the dark and fed Bullsh––”

I clamp my hand over his mouth. Then I wag my finger playfully and say, “Okay, but after I tell you what’s going on in my totally screwed up life...” I turn to go and Josh grabs me from behind, in a hug. He wraps his arms around my waste and I completely forget what I was about to say. We pause a second and just happen to be standing in front of my full length mirror under an overhead light. I look at our reflection. I can’t breath. Josh’s eyes locks with mine, they’re dark and intense. I would love to know what he’s really thinking right this second. His eyelashes look long and thick and his chin has a Don Johnson shadow. Just like in my dream on my birthday eve.

Oh my gosh, Josh is so cute! I think I’m falling in love with him.