The Profile Match

by Jill Williamson

  “Where are we?” Grace asked.

  I glanced in the rearview and saw that she was sitting up now. “Good morning, Sunshine,” I said. “On your right, you’ll find the University of California Los Angeles and Pauley Pavilion, where I’ll play ball with the Sun Devils next year.”

  “Why are we here?”

  “It was on the way, and I just like looking at it.”

  “You’re a dork,” she said.

  “A dork with an offer to play D1 basketball.” The pavilion was out of sight now, so I put my attention back on the road and increased my speed. “So what happened to you last night?”

  “You first,” she said.

  “You’re wise to defer to my seniority,” I said, then told her what I remembered from the previous night. She interrupted me when I mentioned the blood I saw on the concrete table.

  “Valeria sacrificed a bird.”

  My jaw dropped. “Gross.” These people were freaks.

  Then Grace told me her story. She had smoked the pipe and gone through the ceremony. “But I was lying,” she said, as if this made it all okay. “I prayed the whole time that God would protect me and help me expose the evil around me.”

  “You can’t do that,” I said. “You can’t do something you’re not supposed to and pray God will protect you from the consequences. And you can’t ask God to help you lie.”

  “Why not?”

  Was she kidding me? But all I could think to say in reply was, “Because.”

  “Well, at least I didn’t get doped by some kid in a zombie costume,” she said.

  Fire shot through me. “A what?”

  “They were dressed in black, wearing white and gray makeup on their faces,” Grace said. “They were carrying what Brittany called prick boards. They looked like sticks with some kind of microneedle stamp on the ends. They were whipping people’s arms and legs. Brittany said they were filled with iVitrax. Why’d you even go into the rave?”

  “I was dancing.”

  She scoffed. “You were probably just standing there.”

  “We were supposed to go along with everything that was legal. A dance is legal.”

  “Tell the truth. It’s because Meg asked you to.”

  I had reached the Federal Building and turned into the lot. “You pledged your loyalty to the Daysman because Brittany asked you to!”

  “I did it because I was undercover,” Grace said. “That’s your biggest problem. When you go undercover, you’re still Spencer Garmond. You’re supposed to be playing a role.”

  I pulled into a parking spot and shut off my car. “Sometimes, but not always.”

  Our bickering continued all the way up to the field office and ended when we separated for drug testing. A half hour later around the conference table, we were still having the same argument.

  “Enough,” Director Moreland said, finally cutting us both off. “I want to talk about the recording Agent Thomas took last night.”

  “Wait,” I said. “How did you record anything? They took our cell phones.”

  “Brittany had warned me we’d have to leave all our stuff at check in,” Grace said. “So I brought two cell phones and set one recording while we were still in the car. This sweater has the perfect pocket to hide it.” She unzipped an invisible pocket on the front of her shirt and pulled out her cell phone. Smiled at me.

  That little sneak. “Thanks for sharing that information with me, Agent Thomas. You’re one helpful gal.”

  “As I was saying,” Director Moreland said, “we’ve transcribed the recording Agent Thomas sent us, and the ceremony she witnessed was nearly verbatim to the one from the movie listed in Agent Garmond’s report. We also picked up on a conversation about an international event coming soon, but there wasn’t enough to figure out when and where it will be.”

  “It’s in Cambodia,” I said, thrilled to have something worthwhile to add. “In May.”

  “When in May?” Moreland asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said, “but I can find out.”

  “I’d like to learn more about that event,” Moreland said.

  “You got it,” I said, smirking at Grace.

  Moreland asked a few more questions, then kicked us out. Grace’s mom rushed her on ahead of us, but Grandma lingered to chitchat with some woman I didn’t know. Once she and I were in the elevator on the way down, I brought up what was most bothering me.

  “How much trouble am I in?” I asked. “Because of the iVitrax?”

  “None that I know of,” Grandma said.

  “Are you kidding? How?”

  “It wasn’t your fault. You came in and tested. You reported. Grace’s report corroborated yours. You’re in the clear.”

  “Seriously?”

  “That surprise you?”

  “Well, yeah. I thought I might lose my scholarship again.”

  “The law sent you into that house, Spencer,” Grandma said. “They’re partly responsible for what happened while you were there. That’s how undercover missions work. As long as you try to do what’s right, and you’re honest about it, you’ll be okay. And no one in the Mission League would ever call Arizona State and tell them about a private investigation, so relax.”

  Relax? This coming from the woman who was going to send me to military school?

  I couldn’t believe it, but I let it go. After all, my team had a game to win.

  REPORT NUMBER: 23

  REPORT TITLE: We Are the Champions

  SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond

  LOCATION: Harris Hall, The Barn, Pilot Point Christian School, Pilot Point, California

  DATE AND TIME: Saturday, March 9, 11:49 a. m.

  Three hours later, I was supposed to be relaxing before the game. A little Googling had found me a website for the Free Light Youth conference in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, but when I texted Brittany and asked about going, she wrote back:

  Sorry, ncaa. You gotta be a member to come, and Valeria told me you don’t want to join.

  Just like that, my investigation hit a dead end. Then this:

  Grace: britney inveted me 2 the cambodya thing

  Over my dead body Grace was going to Cambodia.

  Fast forward to our game against Crenshaw that night. My head wasn’t in it, and the first half I missed more shots than I made. Coach pulled me aside after his half-time talk. Said he didn’t know what was going on, but I needed to get my act together.

  He was right, so I shoved aside my concerns about Grace and the investigation, and focused on nothing but helping my team win, which we did, just barely, advancing to the regional semi-final game next Tuesday.

  ● ● ●

  “I don’t know why you’re so upset,” Grace said as I drove her to school Monday morning. “Only one of us needs to go.”

  “Grace, you’re not going to Cambodia,” I said.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “No. You’re not.”

  “Well, guess what? You don’t get to say.”

  “Mr. S gets a say, and so does your mom,” I said. “And when I tell them both just how dangerous this is . . . when I tell your mom about how Anya tortured me in Japan . . . there’s no way she’ll let you go.”

  Grace glared at me. “Why would you do that?”

  “To protect you.”

  “I take the same training as you take. Who asked you to protect me?”

  “You did! Grace, these people are ruthless. I’m talking life or death here. If they find out you’re the First Twin . . .”

  “I can handle them,” Grace said. “Even if they torture me.”

  I pulled into a spot at the school and shut off my car. “Listen to yourself! Why would you want to be tortured? Just stay home and let me deal with this, okay?”

  “You haven’t been invited. I have.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not going to happen, Grace.”

  She wiped tears off her face. “The prophecies say that the First Twin is going to do something important. You c
an’t stop that, Spencer. You can’t.”

  The First Twin was supposed to bring truth to the cult. To mentor one who would mentor a generation. “I don’t want to stop it. I just want to keep you safe.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Good. Do it. But I’m not letting you go to Cambodia. Mr. S will back me up, and I doubt your mom will be hard to convince.”

  “I hate you.”

  Ouch. I got out of the car, shut the door, and started for Harris Hall. I know I’d made her mad, but I couldn’t help it. I had to do what I thought was right.

  I heard the passenger door open and close behind me, but Grace’s footsteps seemed to be fading, rather than coming closer. I turned and saw her heading the opposite way across the parking lot, her phone to her ear.

  “Where are you going?” I yelled after her.

  If she heard me, she ignored me.

  I guessed we were broken up for good now. This time I actually thought it might be for the best.

  ● ● ●

  I talked to Mr. S, then I talked to Mrs. Thomas. Both agreed that sending Grace to Cambodia with Brittany was a bad idea. So I’d done my part to keep her from dying at the hands of international criminals. Isaac assured me he and I would be going to Cambodia together. That settled, I now had other things to worry about: helping my team win the state championship.

  We won the regional semi-final on Wednesday night against Cajon High School, then four days later we also won the SoCal regional final against Birmingham Charter School.

  That’s how we found ourselves on a bus to Sacramento for the second year in a row for a chance at the state title, except this year, I would get to play. Coach showed us games of the Alameda High School Hornets, who we’d be playing. Their power forward, Harry Martin, was six feet ten and bound for USC. The rest of their team were primarily shooters, like us. It was going to be a fight, but we were playing to win.

  Friday night, the Hornets took control from the start. Brothers Levi and Chase Colter, numbers 21 and 40 respectively, were outside shooters who did not miss. That gave us no choice but to play man defense, which wore us out. But our shooting was just as good. Over and over our guys got open, and I was able to make good passes.

  When coach put in Jonathan for Chaz, he quickly got open at the three-point baseline. I passed him the ball, and he squared up to shoot, but passed it back to me instead.

  At the end of the first quarter, I sat by him on the bench. “Dude, you miss all the shots you don’t take, man. Shoot the ball.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I will.”

  Back in the game, our cheerleaders started a chant of “Defense! Defense!” The audience sang along, stomping on the bleachers. I was guarding Colter 40 when his brother passed to him. I got a finger on it. The ball went spinning toward the sideline. I leapt after it, caught it in the air, and lobbed it to Chaz, who took off down the court on a fast break that earned us two points.

  Colter 40 whipped a pass to their number 43, who squared up at the three-point line and shot the ball. It bricked off the backboard, but Harry Martin snagged the rebound and put it in for two.

  I brought the ball into the frontcourt and ran our play. Jonathan was open, so I passed him the ball and yelled, “Shoot it!” He did and made the shot.

  We went back and forth, Alameda in the lead, then us, then Alameda, then us. We were down by one with thirty seconds left before half time. I started our offense, trying to run the clock so we’d get the last chance to score. No one was open for a shot, though, so when the ball came back to me with time running down, I drove to the basket. I stopped in the middle of the key and faked a shot. Harry Martin rocketed into the air, hands raised to stop me. I pivoted around him, jumping like I was going to shoot. Instead I passed to Dan, who put in a quick layup.

  We entered the locker room ahead at halftime, 41–40. Coach gave us a pep talk and told us what to watch out for, then segued into something a little more sentimental.

  “For most of you seniors, this is it,” he said. “Your last game. I’d like to give you all some play time, so let’s see if we can widen that lead, shall we?”

  We clapped and cheered, eager to do just that.

  I walked back out to the court and caught sight of Grandma sitting with Mr. S and his family. Mary waved at me. She was sitting with Gabe. A good-sized crowd had driven up to support us. I didn’t want to let them down.

  The Hornets had the possession arrow, so we started the second half on defense. The Colter brothers brought it up. Colter 40 chest-passed to Colter 21. I ran toward the ball, easily intercepting that pass, and drove all the way to our end. The Colters tried to take me on, but I maneuvered around them for an easy layup.

  The Hornets brought the ball up again, and this time they got off a shot. The ball looped around the rim and missed. Dan got the rebound and lobbed it to me. Back on our end, I slowed things down and passed the ball to Chaz. On it went to Jonathan, who whipped it back out to Chaz, who passed back to me. I saw an opening and drove toward the hoop. Harry Martin hacked my arm, but I still made the shot. The ref called the foul. My shot counted, and I was given the and one—the free throw awarded when someone is fouled while taking a shot.

  I made my free throw.

  Things fell apart for the Hornets after that. They started to panic and got sloppy. Two minutes into the third quarter, they reached four fouls, putting us in the bonus. That’s when we started to pull away. At one point, we scored twelve in a row—two of them three-pointers from Jonathan, the rest free throws. After that, the Hornets couldn’t catch up.

  The Colter brothers tried to extend the game by fouling our guards, but the strategy failed because they fouled out and we kept making our free throws. Coach got everyone play time.

  Final score, 74–61, us. We were the Division III Champs.

  It got a little wild in the gym after that. We were jumping and cheering. Someone tried to pick me up. Then me and Dan tried to pick up Jonathan, but he lurched out of our reach trying to hug Chaz. Someone dumped a water bottle on my head, then we were all dumping water on each other. Then Grandma was hugging me, and I realized we were surrounded by our friends and family from the stands. I hugged Mary and Kerri and Mr. S and Gabe and Arianna and Isabel and Lukas. Grace was in there too, smelling of coconut, and though I was still mad at her, I grinned and pretended not to be. After a few minutes of this, Coach managed to call us out of the mob and into a huddle where we said a cheer for Alameda, then walked over to give them all high fives and handshakes. Good game, and all that. They looked so sad, and I remembered exactly how it felt from last year. After the awards presentation, we finally went into the locker room to celebrate as a team.

  ● ● ●

  Spring break went by in a blur. Diane kept messaging to ask if I’d had any more visions about Renwat and Kimbal, and I kept telling her I hadn’t. That Friday morning, when I got to Harris Hall, Mr. S had written the names of the new recruits on the whiteboard. He wanted us to pray for them, as they’d be receiving their call from Prière this weekend. If they accepted, they’d be in class next Monday.

  “Both girls,” Lukas said.

  I read the names:

  Alpha—Kaitlyn Williamson

  Diakonos—Martha Stopplecamp

  No Mary?

  No way.

  I almost said something, but my training kicked in and I held my tongue. I made sure to get to church early on Sunday, though, so I could wait for Mary. The moment I saw her, I dragged her into an empty Sunday School classroom and shut the door.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “You’re in Project Gemini, aren’t you?” Project Gemini was a special Mission League program for identical twins in which one ceased to exist, and they took on one identity.

  Mary’s face flushed. “You know I can’t answer that.”

  “Come on, Mair. There’s no way Martha would get a call and not you.”

  “Spencer, I—”

  “I don�
��t want you to do it,” I said. “But if you did, why like this? I’d think Martha has less of a life to give up.”

  She gaped at me. “What a terrible thing to say! Who disappears has nothing to do with who has less of a life. I’m a better actress. Martha can’t fake me like I can fake her.”

  That actually made a lot of sense.

  “And I’m not erasing myself,” she added. “This is just practice. I’m still Mary Stopplecamp. I still go to high school and everything. I’m just not openly joining the Mission League. Martha and I both got called, but we’re only showing Martha on the roster. That way she and I can take turns.”

  That made me grin. “So you will be there. Sometimes. As Martha.”

  “You can’t tell anyone,” she said.

  “I won’t,” I said. “I just don’t want you to disappear, you know, from society.” Like Christophe Sloan had.

  “I told you. It’s only for practice. Until we graduate. Martha and I will take turns coming to class and trainings. And Dad will teach us what we miss at home.”

  I sighed, relieved that none of this was official. “Well, you’re lucky you get out of the initiation abduction, Mair, because Alpha Team would have got you good.”

  She folded her arms. “Who said I’m out?”

  I stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  “Think hard, genius.”

  I drew in a deep breath. “Riiiight. So sometimes it’ll be you, and sometimes it’ll be Martha.”

  She grinned. “I think that’s why Dad put us on Diakonos. To keep us away from you.”

  ● ● ●

  Monday afternoon in Room 401, I sat at the Alpha table with Grace, Drew, and Luke to talk out the details of our plan.

  “How are we going to grab Martha if she lives in the same place we’re supposed to take her?” Grace asked.