Project Gemini (Mission 2

by Jill Williamson

  Beautiful, amazing woman! I picked up one of the egg chunks and a slice of toast. Gabe reached for a slice of toast, but Okasan returned and slapped his hand. “For Supensa-san.”

  I fought back a laugh at the expression on Gabe’s face. But seriously, that was just mean. I ate the egg. It tasted like an omelet without any filling and was a little bit sweet. I followed it up with a bite of toast. Oh, yes. This I could do.

  Okasan stood at my side, watching me eat. “You like?” She gestured to the eggs.

  I nodded and said, “Arigato” over a full mouth.

  “Is tamagoyaki. Egg. Jun,” she tapped his shoulder, “Eigo.”

  “Tamagoyaki is a Japanese omelet,” Jun said. “Very popular.”

  “Arigato,” I said again.

  “I write down. You take recipe to American okasan.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I said. “Arigato.”

  Okasan pulled out the chair at the end of the table and dragged it behind mine. “Supensa-san. Take off.” She tugged at my polo shirt then tapped the aloe.

  No way was I going to argue with the woman who’d made me cheesy toast. I unbuttoned the top and pulled it over my head. Okasan took it from there, muttering. I caught the word “baka” and hoped I’d get the chance to introduce Grace to Jun’s mom sometime. See what good ol’ Okasan would do to the girl who messed with her Amerikan bo-ee.

  Okasan rubbed aloe on my back and neck and arms. It felt so nice. I could have sat there all day.

  Jun and Gabe and Wally finished eating and waited in the living room while Joji watched TV. Jun reminded his mom of the time, but she was not to be stopped. By the time we got to school, we’d missed homeroom.

  After second period, I made my way to the library, eager for my daily relief from the tropical heat. I walked through the blessed coolness, inhaling the smell of old books. I reached the room in the back and opened the door to—

  “Spencer!” Grace ran to me and threw her arms around my neck. Her hands rubbed against the burns on my shoulders. I grimaced, grabbed her wrists, and pulled her off me. A sharp breath filled my senses with her coconut smell.

  Her cheeks flushed as she drew her arms back to herself. “Kozue said they were taking you to the hospital.” Her eyes looked remorseful, but I didn’t buy it.

  “I’d think that would make you happy. Weren’t you trying to kill me?”

  The standard mask of indifference crossed her face. “It was a joke, Spencer. You make jokes all the time—can’t you take one?”

  “Sure. Ha ha. Funny joke, Grace. But just so you know, my jokes don’t involve premeditated assault.”

  “Right,” she snapped. “Just mental or emotional assault.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Just forget it.”

  “No. I want you to tell me what I did to deserve you hating me.”

  But Grace walked away and sat in the corner by Isabel. She flipped her golden curls over her shoulder and said, “Can you believe Mrs. Kimura fed us eel for dinner last night? Wasn’t that gross?”

  Isabel shot me an apologetic glance before answering, “It was strange but didn’t taste so bad.”

  “Our host mom made eggs and toast this morning,” Gabe said, “but only for Spencer. Wally and I have been polite and eaten everything she’s served us, but Spencer wrinkles his nose and suddenly she’s making him omelets.”

  “She was just trying to make me feel better because of my sunburn,” I said, though if I’d been forced to watch Gabe eat the eggs and toast when I was stuck with sweat sock soup, I’d have been ticked off too.

  Gabe went and sat by Isabel, so I slouched into a chair beside Wally and put my cheek on the table. Grace might have problems in her life, but why’d she have to make problems for me?

  “I just don’t understand why they won’t give us lunch money.” Arianna sat down on my other side.

  “I’ve been spending my souvenir money on lunch every day because no one is giving me anything,” Isabel said.

  “The family is supposed to provide your school lunch every day but Wednesday,” Mr. S said. “Are they not doing that?”

  “I asked Keiko,” Arianna said. “She told me that we were rich Americans and could buy our own lunch.”

  “What?” I sat up straight. “That doesn’t sound like Keiko.”

  “How would you know?” Arianna asked. “Have you ever had a conversation with her?”

  “Once.” But Keiko was nice. I just knew it. “It’s probably a translation issue.”

  “I speak fluent Japanese, Spencer,” Arianna said.

  True. I itched my shoulder. The sunburn was already starting to peel, and I itched everywhere. “Did you ask your host mom?”

  “She said she gave Keiko the money,” Arianna said. “I don’t think Keiko likes me. I can’t think why. I’ve been nothing but friendly.”

  Yeah, but Arianna’s version of friendly took some getting used to.

  “Is not just you,” Isabel said. “She’s not giving any of us money.”

  “I’ll talk with Kimura-san,” Mr. S said. “We’ll get this solved.”

  I nudged Arianna. “Did you find out anything about … ?” I nodded toward Grace.

  Arianna whispered, “She said she likes you. Thinks you’re cute.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe this.” I put my head back down on the table.

  “I don’t either,” Arianna said. “I think she’s lying.”

  I rolled back to my cheek so I could see Arianna’s face. “Could I be her assignment? Cozy up to someone?”

  “Freshmen don’t get assignments.”

  “There’s always an exception, isn’t there?” Because last year I’d been told that only seniors got red cards, and now I had one. Two, if you counted the partner card for doing the after school rec program.

  She shook her head. “Not on this. Mr. S would never ask a student to play with another student’s emotions. It’s unethical.”

  “She’s unethical,” I said, which sounded dumb but whatever.

  “I’m going to pray about this,” Arianna said. “Please tell me you’ve been praying about this too.”

  “What would be the point?” I said. “God never answers my prayers.” Not that I had a clue what an answer would look like if I got one.

  “Spencer, that’s ridiculous. What do you pray for?”

  “I don’t know. Stuff.”

  “When do you pray? How often?”

  I shrugged. I did not want to give this girl opportunity to lecture me through lunch.

  “Spencer.”

  “What? I pray when I think to, okay? After a vision, usually. Or if I’m worried about something.”

  “I think you should pray more,” Arianna said. “But God isn’t a genie in a lamp. Prayers are requests. And a request may or may not be answered.”

  “How about may never be answered?” Because I’d added a column in my intercession journal for answered prayers, and there were no check marks.

  “I suppose that’s God’s prerogative. But I don’t think you’re being fair or looking deep enough at your life. If you did, I think you’d find that a lot more of your prayers are being answered than you think. And I think you should pray about Grace too. Then kill her with kindness.”

  Pray about Grace … Be kind to Grace … “Once I start down the dark path, forever will it dominate my destiny. Consume me, it will,” I said in my best Yoda voice.

  She rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was fighting a smirk. “You’re impossible.”

  “Impossibly awesome.”

  ● ● ●

  The kiddies had yet to arrive for their first day at the new rec center. Since I was in charge of the gym, I decided we should play basketball, and told Grace so.

  “That’s your whole plan?” she said, attitude thick as always. “Play basketball?”

  “Why complicate things?” I scratched some dead skin off my neck and pulled a rack of basketballs out into the middle of the gym. I tried a few until I fo
und one with good air, then dribbled toward the hoop.

  I sank a few three pointers, then some baseline jump shots. Grace got a ball and started to dribble, slowly, awkwardly, looking at the ball the whole time. It was pretty pathetic. I missed my next shot on purpose so she wouldn’t feel bad about being so terrible.

  “Guess you’re not as perfect as you think,” she said.

  And that’s what I got for trying to be nice.

  Grace dribbled past me, so I swiped the ball from her, dribbled around her, and tossed it back. She dribbled toward the hoop, so I jumped in front of her on defense, hoping to intimidate her in any way possible.

  She turned and dribbled back to half court, looking like some blind grandma. I laughed. “That’s over and back, you know.”

  But she kept on going, all the way to the opposite end. Her lay-up hit the bottom of the rim. I chuckled. So sad.

  I shot around some more until Grace came dribbling my way again.

  “Play defense,” she said to me. “I think I got this figured out.”

  “If you insist.” But it’s no fun stealing from someone who’s that bad. So I stood in front of her, pretending like I was actually going to try.

  She faked left, then drove around me and sank a jump shot from ten feet.

  What the Kobe Bryant? I gaped at her. “You play ball?”

  “Nope.” She shook her head, smiling. “Don’t you know which girls play basketball for Pilot Point High? I thought jocks kept a list in their cell phones or a little black book or something.” She retrieved the ball and whipped a chest pass to me.

  I slapped the pass down into a dribble. “Coach doesn’t like us wasting time watching the girls. We’re supposed to be thinking about the coming game.”

  She made a face. “How lame.”

  “Are you on JV?”

  “I’m a cheerleader.”

  I paused and straightened, feeling a twinge in my mending sunburn as I did. “You are?”

  Grace swiped the ball from me and dribbled out to half court again, much less awkwardly this time, the big faker. “I suppose you don’t watch the cheerleaders, either?”

  Uh … “I can’t be watching cheerleaders. I’ve got to focus on the game. Cheerleaders are a distraction.”

  “That what your coach told you?” She stopped and shot from the free throw line. Her ball bounced off the rim.

  I chased it down. “No, it’s a fact I learned the hard way last year.” All pretty girls were a distraction, not just cheerleaders. Stupid Beth Watkins, anyway. “Besides, the crowd comes to watch us, not you.”

  “Is that a fact?” Her eyebrows sank, her lips pouted, and her hands went to her hips.

  I dribbled toward her and bounced the ball between my legs, barely catching it on the other side. Whoops. Almost lost that one. I rest my case about pretty girls being a distraction.

  Grace sighed. “Well, at least when you suck, the crowd can see some talent in us.”

  I tucked the ball up under my arm. “We never suck.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “What? Don’t you ever watch us?” I asked.

  “I can’t be watching basketball. I’ve got to focus on my cheers.” Her sapphire eyes laughed at me. She slapped the ball from my hand and dribbled toward the hoop.

  “But you’ve got a decent shot,” I called after her. “There’s no skill in cheerleading. You should play ball instead.”

  She sank her lay-up and turned to glare at me. “No skill?” She left the ball rolling along the wall and marched over to the baseline.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, kind of pleased to have made her angry for a change.

  She spun around and took off running in a sprint toward me. She blitzed by my left arm, jumped into a front handspring, and flipped and tumbled the entire length of the gymnasium, landing with a little hop to slow herself down at the end. Some Japanese kids in red and black uniforms stood in the doorway at the other end of the gym and clapped. I just stared, my mouth gaping open. A flashback from our first away game last fall came back to me. Pilot Point High cheerleaders dancing to the Black Eyed Peas. I finally realized where I’d seen Grace before.

  “Wait, I do know you!” I yelled across the gym. “You’re that flipping one.”

  “Sure. Now you recognize me.” Her voice was quiet from the distance as she walked toward me.

  “I recognize your flips,” I murmured and turned to shoot a baseline jump shot. “That’s skill.”

  Grace laughed, soft and musical. The sound let pressure out of my gut. No no, Garmond. Must not crush on the hater. Focus on Keiko, the Asian princess.

  The hour dragged by. Kids came in and started playing basketball. They wanted to yank out my hair more than play ball, though. I would never admit it out loud, but Grace was right: I should have planned something more structured to pass the time. I would for tomorrow. We could start with free shooting, then practice passing, then dribbling. We had enough people to do a scrimmage, so maybe we could end the hour with that.

  Once the last kid got picked up for a ride home, I pulled out my facility sketch and took a walk around the building. Jun was in karate practice, so I had some time to kill. I’d looked up the place on Google Maps to get the shape of the building. And so far I’d sketched in the rooms I knew. My measurements weren’t adding up perfectly, but I was close. I guessed the inside walls were six inches thick. I turned on my tape measure app and checked some things. The width of the hall, the bathrooms. I even snuck into the girls’ bathroom since the fitness center was deserted, except for the guys in the dojo. And, in case you were wondering, the fitness center had regular toilets in both bathrooms. No holes in the floor.

  But I still had a big hole in my sketch on the western wall between the offices, the weight room, and the dance room. I wandered around on that end of the building. Something reeked like chemicals. I must have just missed seeing the janitor come through.

  I gave up on the interior and went outside to walk the perimeter, trying to match up all my exterior doors with the interior ones. There was one exterior door I didn’t have marked on the inside. I tried it, but it was locked. It looked to be in the same area as my mystery hole. Maybe it was some outdoor utility closet or where they kept the hot water heater or something like that. I jotted down my ideas and decided to go wait for Jun by the dojo.

  ● ● ●

  I didn’t get Jun alone until late that night. His mom aloed me up while we all watched some Japanese drama show on TV. His parents went to bed before it was over. Shortly thereafter, Jun got up and wandered to his room. So I followed him, leaving Gabe, Wally, and Joji alone with the TV.

  I walked into Jun’s bedroom and saw him checking his cell phone. “So where were you last night?”

  He jumped and spun to face me. “Supensa-san. Odokasanai de yo!”

  “Yeah … yo.” I put my hand up to keep my head from hitting the chain on the light fixture. “Were you with Kozue?” If so, maybe he’d take me with him next time so I could talk to Keiko. I hadn’t seen her since the beach day.

  “Eto … Not Kozue. I have task. Is secret. For Mishion Ligu. Please do not say … to tell anyone. Am being careful.”

  He had a real assignment? “Can I come?”

  Jun’s eyes ballooned. “No! Please. You must not follow.” He rubbed his face and looked like I’d put him in a real fix. “Is berry dangerous. Promise me to not tell … eto … to follow.”

  “Hey, no biggie,” I said. “I won’t say anything. I promise.” I hadn’t meant to freak the guy out. It wasn’t my business what he did, anyway.

  Jun relaxed then. “Thank you berry much, Supensa-san.” He bowed his head, like I’d done him some kind of favor. I really needed to figure out how the whole bowing thing worked here. “I will come back,” he said, then walked past me and out into the hallway.

  I followed him back to the living room and watched him slip out the front door, closing it silently behind him. No one even looked away from the
TV. Not Gabe, Wally, or Joji.

  The guy was good.

  I watched him all week. Every night around 11:00, he snuck out. Sometimes he came back in a half hour. Sometimes he was gone much longer. I itched to follow him, but maybe that was just my peeling sunburn. Besides, I’d promised. And I was a man of my word.

  REPORT NUMBER: 12

  REPORT TITLE: Shoko Miyake Makes Me an Offer

  SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Jun Uehara

  LOCATION: 2-11-10 Tsuboya, Naha, Okinawa, Japan

  DATE AND TIME: Friday, June 12, 11:28 p.m.

  JUN LAUGHED AT GORO’S CRUDE JOKE, hoping he sounded genuine. He was walking to a party with Bushi, Akio, and Goro, the three guys known as the San Doubou, the guys who ran the teenage part of the Abaku-kai gang in Naha. Jun had spent the last eight months working his way into the gang, and this was the first time he’d been invited to meet one of the adult leaders. Toda-san believed that Kimura-san was a high-ranking member of the Abaku-kai, so Jun expected to be introduced to Kimura-san tonight.

  Jun followed Bushi and the guys to an apartment about eight blocks from Kimura Fitness. They entered the front door on the bottom floor of the building. The place was dark and reeked of incense and smoke. Punk music blared, and Jun recognized the music of the popular band Kakushi Ken. A few dozen people were dancing. Five guys played a video game in the living room. Many held a beer or cigarette or both in their hands.

  Jun stayed close to Bushi as he led the way through the crowd, weaving between bodies like a snake. Many yelled greetings to the San Doubou.

  A girl ran up and shoved Bushi. “Doko ni itteta ka?” It was one of the twins. Jun’s gut twisted. It had to be Keiko. Kozue would never come to a party like this. But as long as he’d known the twins, he could tell them apart only by the little mole on Keiko’s left cheek. And right now it was too dark for him to get a good look.

  Bushi grabbed Keiko’s elbow and pulled her over to the wall. Both were angry, that much Jun could tell, but he couldn’t hear them over the earsplitting music. Bushi tried to kiss Keiko, but she pushed him away and stomped off.