Project Gemini (Mission 2

by Jill Williamson

  That wasn’t fair. “Seriously? Who goes around asking people if they were adopted? Hey, Gabe? Were you adopted?”

  “No.”

  “’Kay. Just checking.” I grinned at Jensina.

  “Spencer …” She held up her finger like she was about the shake it at me. Instead she said, “Wally, why don’t you go next?”

  “My name is Wally Parks. My credits currently have me at a junior, but Prière told me that I had to be a freshman for this organization. I’m an only child.” He glanced at me. “I live with my birth mother and father.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate knowing that about you.” I winked at Jensina.

  “My mother schools me at home,” Wally continued. “And it’s best if you all know now that I suffer from obsessive compulsive disorder and multiple phobias.”

  That didn’t sound good. “What kinds of phobias?” I asked.

  “Germs and dirt bother me the most. But I also dislike vomit or sweat … saliva … Any sort of bodily fluid, actually.”

  Wowzer. “Do you have a shrink?”

  Gabe elbowed me.

  “Yes, of course. His name is Dr. Russell Judd,” Wally said. “He’s quite good, if you need someone to talk to. He takes Fridays off, though, so you couldn’t meet with him on Fridays. If I have an emergency on Fridays I have to meet with Dr. Peter Sherman. I dislike Dr. Sherman. He leaves the window open during our sessions, and the exhaust bothers me.”

  A moment of silence settled over Alpha table as we absorbed this new information about Wally. I wanted to ask if he was related to Mr. Monk, but I held my tongue.

  “Um … Spencer, why don’t you go next?” Jensina said.

  “Yeah, sure. I’m Spencer Garmond. I’m a sophomore at PPCS. We already established that I live with my grandma and play basketball. I’m sixteen, a Pisces, born on February 29. I also enjoy playing Planet of Peril and eating—

  “That makes you four years old,” Grace said.

  She never let up, did she? “I also enjoy eating peanut butter sandwiches, practicing League Combat Training, and riding bicycles built for two. And I should be getting my driver’s license at the end of the month.” Unless Grandma refused to drive me to take the test, which was always a possibility.

  “Thank you, Spencer. Your words make me miss Isaac.” Jensina rolled her eyes. “Gabe?”

  “Wait,” Grace said. “Beth said your mom died, but what about your dad?”

  Her tone was kind this time, but I wasn’t buying her Girl Scout cookies. I narrowed my eyes. “My dad is a dangerous criminal.”

  “Oh.” She looked away and flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. “That explains a lot.”

  I’d been joking, sort of. “Do I look like a punching bag to you?”

  Her head whipped back to face me. “More like the Eiffel Tower.”

  “Oh, you wanna do tall jokes now, Goldilocks? ’Cause I can go all day.” I leaned across the table. “Girl, you’re so short, you could base jump off a curb.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not short, I’m space efficient.”

  “Well, look on the bright side, Sunshine. When it rains, you’re the last one to get wet.”

  “Spencer and Grace.” Jensina slapped the tabletop. “This is my year to be team captain. I want to do a good job, but you’re making that difficult.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, wanting to add that Grace had started it, but that wouldn’t help me look more mature in any way, shape, or form.

  “I apologize,” Grace said, flipping her ponytail again. “Egotistical maniacs bring out the worst in me.”

  I lifted my hands out to the side and looked around the table, but no one was offering any sympathy. Fine. Little Miss Personality could have round one, but next time, I’d choose the location. Girl was going down.

  “Gabe? Your turn,” Jensina said.

  “Yeah, I’m Gabe. I also go to Pilot Point Christian. I’m a junior. My parents are in this room. I have twin sisters. And I’m starting a band. If you know a bass player, let me know.”

  Before Jensina could explain about how the Mission League worked, Mr. S announced the exact location of our summer trip. Arianna had nailed it. We’d be going to Naha, Okinawa, a tropical island at the south of Japan. White sandy beaches, teal blue oceans, warm climate … I closed my eyes and grinned. Sounded good to me.

  ● ● ●

  That afternoon, I got to Room 401 at the same time as Grace, so I held the door so she could go first. See? I was a gentleman. My grandma raised me right.

  But Grace stopped in the doorway and looked up at me. “I’m glad you’re tall, Spencer. It gives me more of you to dislike.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” I cupped my hand behind my ear. “You’ll have to talk louder. I can’t hear you all the way up here.”

  Grace went inside. I took a deep breath of coconut scented air and followed.

  Room 401 was a regular classroom, but instead of a ton of student desks, it had two round tables and a bunch of chairs. Mr. S had a teacher’s desk in the front corner, and the walls were covered in posters featuring countries like Swaziland, Germany, Puerto Rico, Moscow, and now Japan.

  Everyone was talking about the paradise we were about to visit. I just hoped Grace would keep her noxious self away from me so I could enjoy my upcoming vacay.

  “Beth is passing out a worksheet,” Mr. S said from his desk. “It’s a list of phrases that will help you in Japan. Please start memorizing them. Then pair up and work on some of the conversations at the bottom.”

  At the Alpha table, unfortunately, the only empty chair was between Grace and Wally. Wally, who had a package of baby wipes sitting beside his notebook. Whee.

  I pulled out the chair and stood there, trying to decide where to put my backpack. On my left, I smelled coconuts. On my right, antiseptic. Beth circled our table passing out papers. I settled onto the chair and shoved my pack between my feet. Most furniture wasn’t designed for guys my size.

  “How tall are you, anyway, Beanstalker?” Grace asked me.

  “My name is Spencer.” Jonas, really, but … yeah.

  “Or Tiger,” Beth said, slapping a sheet of paper on the table in front of me. She handed a paper to Grace. “Nice black eye, girl.”

  Grace folded her arms and looked away.

  “Feisty little thing. Just your type, ay, Tiger?” Beth had the nerve to wink.

  I glowered at Beth’s braids as she returned to the Diakonos table. A sharp breath accompanied revelation. That was the first time Beth hadn’t evoked pathetic longing in my gut. Had I gotten over her, finally? Please say yes.

  I faced forward and caught Grace watching me. I leaned closer and looked at her face. A bruise had yellowed the skin under her left eye. How had I not noticed that before? “So, what happened, Lemondrop?”

  Her gaze snapped forward. “Got in a fight.”

  “You? Who’d you take on? A kindergartener?”

  “Like you can talk, Spencer,” Jensina said.

  “I got in one fight last year.” I lowered my voice and glanced at Nick.

  “Two,” Gabe said. “One here and one in Moscow.”

  “Thank you for clarifying, Gabe,” I said. “But what happened in Moscow wasn’t much of a fight. Isaac broke it up before I could end it right.”

  “Spencer has a violent streak,” Jensina said.

  I looked across the table to Gabe. “I have a violent streak?”

  Gabe shrugged.

  “Oh, thanks a lot.” I threw my spiral notebook at Gabe.

  “See?” Jensina said, laughing.

  “I have to agree with Jensina’s assessment.” Wally pulled out a baby wipe and handed it to me. “Your sarcasm is an indication of a short fuse.”

  I scowled at the wipe. “I’ve only known you for a day.”

  “Take the wipe,” Wally said pointing to a black smudge on my hand. “Public playgrounds are terribly unsanitary.”

  “I wasn’t on a playground. I was playing ball o
ut back.”

  “There are 971 students currently enrolled at Pilot Point Christian Schools: 332 in the elementary, 228 in the middle school, and 411 in the high school. Please?” Wally nudged the dangling wipe my way.

  Wasn’t Wally homeschooled? “How do you even know that?” I took the wipe and rubbed the black from my hands. Wally’s posture eased. I turned back to Grace. “So what was the fight about? Did you win?”

  Her gaze turned dark again, tempting me to shiver. “I always win.” She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder and repositioned her body away from me, facing Gabe. I swear the ponytail laughed at me.

  What did I ever do to her?

  Gabe Frisbeed back my notebook. I slouched down in my chair and scribbled on it. I flipped over the paper that Beth had passed out and looked it over. It was filled with phrases, most of which we’d already learned this year. I read the first few.

  How are you? • Ogenki desu ka?

  I’m fine, thanks! • Watashi wa genki desu. Arigato!

  And you? • Anatawa?

  Good. • Genki desu.

  Where is the bathroom? • Toire wa doko desu ka?

  How old are you? • Toshi wa ikutsu desu ka?

  I don’t understand! • Wakarimasen.

  Wakarimasen. I’d have to be sure and memorize that one.

  Are you going to discard that?” Wally asked, pointing at my used wipe.

  I looked at the wadded wipe on the table and shrugged. “Eventually.”

  “Do you mind? I could easily …”

  “Be my guest.”

  Wally pulled out another wipe and used it to pick up my dirty one. He carried both to the trash next to Mr. S’s desk. Not exaggerating. The dude was nuts.

  “Before we work on the conversations,” Jensina said, “Spencer, can you explain the handout to Grace? I think it will help if they learn pronunciations first. I’m going to help Wally.”

  Me? She wanted me to speak to Princess Snot? I glanced at her papers and saw that she had the packet that we’d all gotten at the beginning of the school year.

  “Are you going to teach me something or what?” Grace asked.

  “Simmer, short stuff.” I straightened in my seat and grabbed her packet. I flipped to the Japanese alphabet page and set it on the table between us. “So … there’s five vowel sounds in Japanese.” I pointed at each hiragana symbol as I said it. “The ‘a’ sounds like, ‘ah.’ The ‘i’ sounds like, ‘ee.’ The ‘u,’ goes ‘oo.’ The ‘e’ sounds like, ‘eh.’ And the ‘o’ makes an ‘oh’ sound. Those are the only vowel sounds, so it’s pretty easy to pronounce things. Um, there’s a hiragana symbol for each vowel, and a different symbol for each consonant-vowel combo.” I continued to point as I read each. “Ka, ki, ku, ke, ko. Sa, shi, su, se, so. Ta ,chi, tsu, te, to. Na, ni—”

  Grace snatched the paper from me. “I get it.”

  Meow! “Well, memorize the alphabet and all the hiragana symbols first. Then I’ll show you how to make words.”

  She tapped her Japanese textbook. “I can read. I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

  I felt weak. The mean girl was like a Planet of Peril mad scientist. She’d siphoned all my strength to use in her lab experiments. Game over.

  I glanced at Arianna. She was talking up a storm to Lukas, who looked riveted. Even Wally was listening to Jensina. Why was Grace such a witch?

  After ten minutes of blessed silence, Grace asked, “How can I write my name, then? There’s no G or R or C.”

  “I’ll show you.” I flipped to a blank sheet in my notebook. I drew what I thought said Grace—gu-re-i-su, actually—and tossed the notebook in front of her.

  She studied it for a long while. “None of those symbols are on this chart.”

  “That’s because your chart is hiragana. I wrote your name in katakana.”

  “Why?”

  “Katakana symbols are used for foreign words,” I said. “Since your name is American, it would be written in katakana,” I said.

  She ripped the page out of my notebook and stuck it in her binder.

  “Help yourself, Marigold,” I said.

  Up went her flagpole posture, and she turned away and began copying the hiragana alphabet with a pink ink pen. I ignored the ponytail dancing in my face and went back to the list of phrases Mr. S wanted us to memorize.

  I so wished Grace was in Diakonos group so we could nab her for the initiation abduction. How much fun would it be to stick some duct tape over that little smirk and a pillowcase over that blasted ponytail? So fun. That’s how.

  Jake and company had better get her good.

  REPORT NUMBER: 5

  REPORT TITLE: I Adopt a Kid Sister

  SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond

  LOCATION: Room 401, Pilot Point Christian School, Pilot Point, California, USA

  DATE AND TIME: Monday, April 27, 4:47 p.m.

  AFTER CLASS, WE VETERAN AGENTS-IN-TRAINING hung around to talk specifics about the initiation abduction that would happen on Saturday, two weeks away. It was tradition to have each team abduct the other’s new recruits. Alpha team would grab Lukas, and Diakonos had to get both Wally and Grace. For once, things were in Alpha team’s favor.

  “Wally shouldn’t be too difficult,” Jake said. “But that Skipper doll … She’s a little spitfire.”

  “She’s insane,” I said. “Make sure to scar her for life.”

  “Spencer’s afraid of girls,” Nick said.

  I didn’t bother shooting Nick a glare. It wasn’t worth the effort.

  “But she’s so small, Spencer,” Beth said. “How bad can she be?”

  “Don’t let the blond ponytail fool you,” I told Beth. “It’s pure evil.”

  Jake cackled. “Evil ponytails? You need to get some sleep, my man. Don’t worry. Diakonos will bag the big bad ponytail for you.”

  Egg-cellent. I could hardly wait.

  Jake and his team went elsewhere so we wouldn’t be able to overhear their dastardly plans. That left Jensina, Gabe, and me alone in room 401.

  “Isabel’s family never locks the door,” Gabe said. “Like, twenty people live at that house. We could probably walk right in the front door and no one would suspect a thing.”

  “But we’re supposed to scare him a little, right?” I asked. “Beth and Nick scared the sweat out of me last year.”

  “I’m driving the van and doing lookout,” Jensina said. “You two have to grab him.”

  “No problem,” I said. “I can take Faux-Hawk any day. So long as he is nowhere near a can of hairspray.”

  “Hairspray?” Jensina rolled her eyes. “I need you guys to be serious, please. We’ve only got two weeks to learn his routine, and only one Saturday. Watch him at school, get to know him better. Find out what he does on weekends. You two track him Saturday morning, say from five until noon. I’ll bring you some lunch and we’ll all watch until five. Then you guys can get me some dinner and I’ll cover until midnight. That should give us a pretty good idea of his routine. We’ll meet here every day after class to report our findings, okay?”

  “Aye-aye, boss,” I said. “We’re on it.”

  ● ● ●

  Isabel and Lukas lived in an old stucco house with a red mission tile roof three blocks from my place. The lawn was covered in broken-down vehicles and car parts. Gabe had been right: All sorts of random people frequented the place.

  When Lukas was home, he stayed inside or worked on a rusty Impala in the yard. When he went out, it was almost always to his mother’s salon, Peluqueria Rodriguez. Lukas worked there almost every day—the dude did manicures and pedicures, I’d seen it. He rode home with his mom after she closed up—except on Mondays and Thursdays, when he closed up by himself. Lukas also worked a lifeguard shift at the Pilot Point Athletic Center pool on Saturdays from two to six.

  Gabe wanted to nab him at the salon. I vetoed. First: the hairspray. Last fall, Lukas had taken out the Incredible Tattooed Hulk with one spritz. I wasn’t going down li
ke that. Second: If I did manage to dodge the hairspray, I didn’t want to risk messing up his mom’s store with a fight.

  Our best option was grabbing him on his way home from the pool, which, sadly, meant I’d miss the Lakers playoff game that was on at the same time.

  What can I say? Such is the life of a spy.

  When we were done scoping out Lukas’s house, Jensina asked, “Where am I dropping you off, Spencer?”

  “Can I come hang at your place?” I asked Gabe. Grandma was having quilt club tonight, and I was too old to help the ladies tie knots.

  “Mary has a game at six thirty. I told her I’d go,” Gabe said. “You want to come?”

  I hesitated. I had wondered if Mary was any good at basketball, and I’d also like to find out if she’d had any more dreams about me. But I didn’t want to encourage her little crush. I left it up to Gabe. “Think it will be okay?”

  “Mom talked to her. She won’t be kissing you again.”

  “Excuse me?” Jensina said, looking in the rearview mirror.

  “Hey, it’s difficult for the ladies to control themselves around my awesomeness,” I said, earning a hearty laugh from Jensina and Gabe.

  But really? I’d had one girlfriend for six days in eighth grade. The closest I’d come to getting a girl since was when Katie Lindley had kissed me at Nick’s party after Homecoming. But she’d been paid five hundred bucks to keep me in the house and steal my iPhone, so … yeah.

  Casanova, I was not.

  An hour and a half later Gabe and I sat on the bleachers behind Mr. S and Kerri in the middle school gym. Mary was indeed the point guard for her team. She looked so cute in her red and white uniform with a black knee brace and her bushy brown curls trapped in a wild ponytail on the back on her head. I noted the big two-four on her back as she dribbled down the court.

  “She has my number.”

  “She picked it on purpose,” Gabe said, a scowl in his voice.

  “Because of Kobe,” I said, totally understanding. His number was on the back of my Lakers cap. “That’s why I picked it.”

  Gabe snorted and shook his head. “She picked it because of you.”