Project Gemini (Mission 2

by Jill Williamson

  And then my eyes locked onto Grace, walking toward me in slow motion from the black car. She was wearing a red and white Hello Kitty bikini, a Miami Heat trucker’s cap, and big black sunglasses. Her hair was perfectly straight and flapped out with each step.

  She peeked over the top of her sunglasses as she strutted around me and gave me a coy smile. “Hey, Spencer.”

  I frowned. “Hey.” The sun glinted off a gold necklace she was wearing. A cross. Which made me look away again.

  But Grace reached out and grabbed my hand. “I need help with my sunscreen.”

  “Uh …”

  She towed me across the hot sand. I stumbled dumbly after her, gritting my teeth as my feet burned. I lasted ten steps before I jerked free from her. I mean, what was I doing? Grace was evil. I wasn’t going to let her boss me around, no matter how amazing she looked in that bikini.

  Grace glanced back at me without stopping. “Are you coming?” She sauntered across the sand, her flip-flops smacking with each step. She found a clear spot beside Isabel, dropped her bag, and spread out a big red and white polka dot towel.

  And I just stood there, staring and hating myself for it.

  When she finished with her towel, she set her hand on her hips and struck a pose, looking at me, I think. It was hard to tell with the sunglasses. “Do you like my swimsuit, Spencer? Keiko loaned it to me.”

  Um … I scratched the back of my neck and glanced toward the bathrooms. Still no twins. “I don’t like your hat.”

  “The Heat rocks.”

  “Nah … James rocks. But they got no point guard. Just James and Wade and Bosh. And they can’t rebound.”

  “I was born in Miami.”

  “Oh. Well …” I shrugged and drifted over to her towel until I was standing at the back end of it with Grace opposite me. “If you’ve got to root for the home team, I guess The Heat ain’t half bad.”

  “Spencer, did you put on sunblock?” Grace kicked off her flip-flops and walked across her towel like it was a red carpet. When she got to the end, she reached up and traced her finger down the bridge of my nose. “Your nose is already hot.”

  “I’ll just keep my shirt on.” I burned pretty bad, but I didn’t like rubbing lotion all over myself. It felt slimy. Another reason why I always wore my Lakers cap.

  Grace pursed her lips. “Spencer, it’s like a sauna out here.” She turned around and sat on the front end of her beach towel and patted behind her. “Sit down.”

  Another glance at the bathrooms and no sign of the twins. I looked down on Grace, annoyed that she was so pretty. You hate her, remember? But I ignored myself and knelt on the back half of her towel.

  She held a plastic tube over her shoulder. “If you put some on me, I’ll put some on you.” She pulled her hair over to one side of her head and twisted it, holding on with one hand.

  I really did want to be friends with Grace—who wouldn’t?—but something about her made me edgy. I took the tube of lotion and stared at Grace’s back, at the sharp angles of her shoulder blades and the way the red ties of the bikini dangled down against her tan skin. My imagination warred with my common sense. I should get up and walk away. That would be smart. Instead, it looked like I was going to let this pretty little thing whip me.

  Good think Kip wasn’t here to point that out.

  Arianna shot me a narrowed glance and put a large straw hat on her head.

  Yeah, yeah. I’m an idiot. I squirted a drop of the cool cream onto one finger and rubbed it in on Grace’s right shoulder. It smelled like coconuts. “You like coconuts,” I said. I know, my chick dialogue needed work, but I was touching her. My finger on her skin. It was hard to think straight.

  “I have coconut everything. Lotion, sunscreen, shampoo and conditioner, body spray—Spencer, you’re going to have to use your whole hand. One finger is going to take you all day, and I want to swim.”

  Right. I squirted a mound of the cream on my palm and slapped it on Grace’s back.

  “That’s better!” she said, which made me smile.

  But the lotion wouldn’t rub in. Grace’s back looked like butter spread over cold toast, and I’d gotten it all over her necklace so that the chain was all filled with cream. So I kept rubbing until no white showed. I mean, I had to do this right. If I messed it up, she might never let me do it again. Plus her skin was really—

  My vision blurred, my head spun, and a glimpse claimed my sight.

  Large hands hold Grace’s wrists, shake her. Tears stream down her face as she tries to pull away. “Stop it!” she yells. “Let go!”

  I coughed, took my hands off her back, and focused on a very pale bruise just under her left arm. Figs and jam, that had been Grace? What was I supposed to do with that information? Who was hurting her? Her dad? A boyfriend? Someone else? Uncle? Neighbor?

  “Done,” I croaked, not liking the pity welling inside me. But maybe that was why she was such a … grouch. She had problems.

  “Thanks!” Grace jumped up and pranced to the side. “Scoot up and I’ll do you.”

  I blame the vision for distracting me, because I did as I was told.

  “Shirt, Spencer,” Grace said.

  “Oh, right.” I pulled my T-shirt over my head. It tangled with my sling, so I pulled off the sling and my Lakers cap and held everything in my lap, feeling like I’d just sold my soul to the devil. I glanced over at Arianna, who was watching me over the top of a book. She raised an eyebrow. I looked away.

  “You’re so white you glow,” Grace said.

  “It’s a curse that comes with red hair,” I said.

  “Ginger hair.”

  “Right.” I felt my cheeks burn, thinking of what Lukas had said. But there was no way Grace liked me. Unless she was just as awkward around guys as I was around girls. Maybe saying rude things and playing pranks was her way of flirting, like a little boy who chased girls around the playground.

  Her fingernails tickled the back of my neck, and my necklace shifted. Grace peered around my side. “You wear a necklace?”

  “So?” But it wasn’t like I’d picked it out or anything. My cross necklace was a Mission League tracking device, a way for Mr. Sloan and whoever else to keep tabs on me. It was a silver shield with a cross on a bead chain. The back was engraved with Joshua 1:9.

  “It’s nice.” Grace squirted the cold liquid on my back in long lines. I twitched when she touched me, but she seemed as timid as I had been, using her fingertips and rubbing up and down, then a curve. Suddenly—

  “Rats! I’m all out, Spencer. I hope that’ll be enough. I’m sure it will be.”

  Oh-kay. I scrambled to my feet, happy to put some space between us. I mean, Keiko was here somewhere, and I should really be with her, anyway, assignment and all.

  Grace stood and bent down to tuck the empty sunscreen into her bag in a slow and deliberate manner, lingering in that pose. Then she took off her hat and sunglasses, shook out her hair, flashed me a dazzling smile, and jogged toward the surf.

  I turned toward Arianna and Isabel. “Did you see what she just did?”

  Arianna kept her eyes locked onto her book. “I did.”

  “Wasn’t that a little …”

  “Yes.” Arianna dropped her book into her lap. “Be careful, Spencer. I don’t know what she’s up to, but it isn’t normal behavior for Grace. She’s usually a sweet, shy girl.”

  “Are you kidding me? Grace has never been sweet or shy. She’s a beast.”

  Arianna sighed, as if exasperated with an unruly child. “I’m only trying to point out … If I were you, I’d put your shirt back on.”

  “Why?”

  “Just a feeling I have.”

  But I didn’t put my shirt back on. I thought about it, but the twins arrived then. And I’d spent all year lifting—I was proud of my muscles. And now that I was all lotioned up, I was happy to display my awesomeness for all to see.

  The girls pulled me into another volleyball game. Jun, Gabe, and me vs. Keiko, Kozue, and
Isabel. Guys won, of course. After the game, everyone went into the water. There were these foam docks anchored and bobbing on the waves. Jun and Gabe took turns diving off them. I had fun jumping the waves with the girls. The fish came right up to my legs sometimes, and I’d kick and scare them away. The girls swam farther out. I could only doggie paddle and float on my back. It was all I’d learned when Grandma had taken me to swim lessons when I was in fifth grade. But the doggie paddle looked pathetic. And floating on my back wasn’t very social. When I tried it I couldn’t see Keiko. So I popped back up to see where my target was.

  Jun and Kozue were closest, splashing each other. Gabe, Isabel, Beth, Jake, and Grace were playing Marco Polo on the other side of the floating foam boards. I scanned the beach for Keiko and saw her entering the bathrooms again. Well done, Agent Garmond.

  Two little kids were standing on the closest floating dock, so I waded past them to the other one. The water came up to my chest out here. The sand was smooth under my feet. I hoisted myself onto the dock and sat, watching the bathrooms for Keiko’s exit, dangling my legs into the warm water, amazed at how nice it felt. The LA Pacific was always cold.

  A soft breeze hit me, meshing with the water drops on my skin, and creating the perfect feeling of coolness. I lay down on the dock on my stomach with a good view of the bathrooms, my bruised arm at my side, my other dangling into the turquoise water. I held it still, waiting to see if a fish would swim up to my hand.

  Isabel giggled and yelled, “Polo!” as Gabe waded in the wrong direction. I was tempted to get down and join the fun, but I needed to watch for Keiko. My eyelids drooped, though, and eventually I let them close.

  ● ● ●

  Movement on the dock jolted me awake. I pushed up to sitting as a little boy jumped off the foam and into the ocean. Two other boys swam in the water laughing at me.

  “Baka na otoko!” one said.

  The other laughed so hard his face turned red.

  What time was it? I scanned the water, but didn’t recognize anyone in the surf. They wouldn’t have left me behind. Not when we were over an hour away from Naha. Right?

  The little boys were still laughing at me. I turned to look for where I’d left my stuff on the beach, and their laughter increased. Yeah, yeah. Ginger American. Big deal. It took me a while, but I finally marked Arianna and her big hat. She was still sitting on her towel, reading. It looked like everyone else was over by the volleyball net, even the twins. Good.

  I yawned and stretched my good arm up over my head, then froze, a whimper on my lips. I hurt! I straightened my back. Ahh! Sunburn. Figs. I should have listened to Arianna and put my shirt on.

  I slid off the dock, bending my knees to submerge all but my head beneath the sea. My skin felt cool and safe, until I moved. My back and arms ached with each step. I settled on a slow walk.

  When I got to shore, I went straight toward my stuff to find my shirt. People laughed and pointed at me as I made my way across the beach.

  Something was wrong. Something more than just me being tall and having red hair.

  I knelt in the sand by my towel and dug through my bag. Where had I put my shirt?

  “Baka!” someone cackled.

  I whipped around, scanning the crowd.

  “Oh, Spencer!” Arianna’s regretful tone made me wince.

  I found my shirt under my bag and struggled to pull it over my wet torso.

  Arianna jumped up beside me and helped me roll the back down my wet, tender skin. The brim of her huge hat scraped the back of my neck.

  “Hey! Watch the hat.”

  “Sorry. I don’t know how to say this, Spencer, but—” Arianna stepped over to Grace’s towel and dug through her bag. She pulled out the tube of sunscreen and tossed it to me. It was heavy.

  “She didn’t run out?”

  “Nope. Leant me some after you’d gone. I think she used it to write something on your back.”

  The blood drained from my face. The laughter and the pointing. “What does it say?”

  Arianna shrugged. “It was hiragana. I couldn’t tell.”

  “Well, try!” I spun my back to her.

  “Okay, calm down.” Arianna lifted my shirt—the fabric’s movement aggravated my sensitive skin. She gave a little gasp. “It says baka. I’m so sorry.”

  I clenched my jaw. So, I was a fool, was I? I turned in a circle, searching the sand for that Hello Kitty red bikini. “Where is she?”

  “Spencer, you’ll only make it worse. You’ve got your shirt on now. If you play dumb, it’ll be less fulfilling for her. Think about it: you know I’m right.”

  I kicked my foot in the sand, breathing rapidly through my nose. Arianna was right. If I’d done this, I’d want to see Grace squirm and cry and be laughed at by everyone. I nodded several times, convincing myself. “You’re right. You’re totally right.” I scanned the beach anyway, then backtracked when I saw her Miami Heat hat. She was with the Keiko and Kozue playing volleyball. And she was wearing a black T-shirt and shorts.

  “She changed,” I said.

  Arianna came to stand beside me and folded her arms. “Kerri made her. She got a thorough tongue lashing, too. Notice the twins didn’t have to change.”

  I totally noticed. I wanted to go over and try talking to Keiko, but going near Grace right now would be dumb. So I flopped down on Grace’s towel and brushed the caked sand off my feet, smearing it into Grace’s towel. Arianna sat as well.

  “You must have some idea why she hates me,” I said.

  “I honestly don’t. It’s strange, though. I’ve never seen her do anything like this, ever. I’ll try to find out why.”

  Yeah, well. Good luck with all that.

  ● ● ●

  When we got home to Jun’s house on Sunday, I tried to hide my sunburn, but Okasan saw my face and neck and made me take off my shirt so she could inspect the damage.

  There was no saying no to Okasan.

  She gasped and said, “Byooin!” and chattered on to Jun so quickly I didn’t have a clue what she was saying.

  “She wants to take you to the hospital,” Jun said. “She’s worried that the burn will give you sun sickness.”

  “I’m fine.” Although I did have a splitting headache and my back was on fire. But I’d had enough of the Japanese hospital the first time I’d been there. I had no intention of going back.

  Okasan made me sit at the table so she could rub aloe over my back. It was embarrassing at first, but the aloe felt so cool and soothing, I quickly forgot to care that Gabe and Jun were mocking me from the living room. That aloe must have been mixed up by a wizard or something, because it had magical healing properties.

  Sunday night, sleeping on the hard tile floor of Jun’s room, I had second thoughts about the hospital. I hadn’t been able to get comfortable on the floor before, but now with the sunburn, it was torture. Every time I shifted on the hard floor I fought not to cry out. And I’m not being pathetic, either. I ended up sleeping on my stomach.

  I so wanted to murder Grace Thomas.

  I turned my head to Jun’s pile of blankets, wishing he was awake so I could ask him where his mom had put the aloe, but his blankets were flat. I pushed myself up—which hurt like figs and jam—and scanned the room.

  Jun was gone.

  REPORT NUMBER: 11

  REPORT TITLE: I Get Spoiled Rotten and a Private Gymnastics Show

  SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond

  LOCATION: Jun Uehara’s house, 17-21 Matsuo Shobosho Dori, Naha, Okinawa, Japan

  DATE AND TIME: Monday, June 8, 07:13 a.m.

  WHEN I CAME OUT TO THE KITCHEN Monday morning, Jun was sitting at the table with his mom and Gabe and Wally and his little brother Joji. Okasan jumped up to greet me.

  “Ohayo, Supensa-san. Daijobu-ka?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, lowering myself into the chair beside Jun. My skin seemed made of paper. Every bend made it crackle and smart and itch. At least I had finally ditched the arm sl
ing. “Daijobu.”

  Okasan moaned in sympathy and stroked my hair, her dark eyes studying me. Then she scurried into the kitchen and started clanking dishes.

  “Where were you last night?” I asked Jun.

  His eyes widened, but he said, “Sleeping.”

  “Liar,” I said, wishing I knew the Japanese word. But the look on Jun’s face was proof he’d understood me just fine.

  “Explain later,” he whispered as his mom leaned between us and set a cup of sweat sock soup and a bowl of rice in front of me. Yummy.

  “You no like,” she said. “What you eat in Amerika, breakfast?”

  I ate peanut butter sandwiches or cold cereal, but when Grandma cooked for me, she made: “Eggs and toast.”

  Jun’s mom grunted and strode back to the kitchen.

  Uh-oh. I’d hurt her feelings. “But this is great.” I picked up my soup cup and took a sip—and fought the urge to gag. So horribly awful.

  Joji laughed at pointed at me. He was maybe eight years old and never spoke any English. He did laugh at us a lot though, and point.

  Okasan started banging around in the kitchen, and soon I could have sworn I smelled eggs frying. Gabe shot me his angry eyebrows. I shrugged. She’d asked.

  “Is she mad?” I asked Jun.

  “She wants only to serve you.” He shoveled in a huge bite of rice.

  Jun’s mom returned with a plate holding a piece of toast with a slice of white cheese melted on the top. “You like, yes?” She nodded to the toast, then walked off down the hallway toward the bedrooms. I didn’t see any eggs.

  But, yes, I liked. I took a bite of the cheesy toast, whimpering with joy. Real food. So, so good. I downed the toast in three bites. It was gone by the time Okasan returned with the jar of aloe.

  She glanced at my clean plate and grunted, set down the aloe jar, and went back to the kitchen.

  I took another sip of the soup through gritted teeth. Holding my breath helped a lot. Okasan returned with two plates: one with cheesy toast—four pieces—and one with little eggy rectangles. She took the soup from my hands and said, “Eat, eat,” then carried the soup to the sink.