by Jan Gangsei
Addie laughed. “Cool. I was hoping maybe we could work together again. You really helped a lot Friday. Think you could come to my dad’s study?”
Darrow slowed. Students streamed past, bumping into them. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t today.”
“Why not?” she said. “Too much work? I have connections, you know. I can call off the dogs and get you a break.”
“No,” Darrow said. He came to a complete stop and turned toward Addie, looking intently at her face. She blinked, feeling the color rising in her cheeks.
“What is it?” Addie said.
“I’ve just got some stuff I need to take care of,” Darrow answered. “I’ll catch you later, all right?” He quickly turned and hurried toward the exit, backpack bouncing on his right arm.
“All right,” Addie said to his retreating back. “Catch you later.”
Alvarez caught up with Addie and tapped her shoulder. “Ready to go, girl?”
Addie nodded, still watching Darrow as he disappeared out the door. Alvarez followed her gaze.
“Something up with your buddy?” she said.
“Yeah, you could say that,” Addie answered quietly. “Let’s get out of here.”
Darrow left the White House press office—he’d stuffed enough envelopes for the day—and made his way across the street to the Eisenhower Executive Office Building. Built from granite and slate, the elaborate structure had been heralded as both the best example of Second Empire French architecture in the country, and the ugliest building in America. But right now, as far as Darrow was concerned, it was a tower of doom. He stopped and hesitated at the bottom steps. He had no idea yet what he was going to say to McQueen. All he could picture was Addie’s face when she’d looked at him in the hallway today, cheeks pink, asking for help with her homework. The way she’d rested her head on his shoulder at Shake Shack.
But then he saw that other Addie: the one crouched in the woods, the one on her phone in the limo, the one who was hiding something.…
Darrow pursed his lips and wrapped his fingers around the phone in his pocket. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he was sure of one thing: he wasn’t going to let McQueen call the shots anymore.
Darrow jogged up the granite steps and went inside. He cleared security and headed toward McQueen’s office, shoes squeaking down the black-and-white marble floors. When he arrived, he lingered just outside the door for a moment. He could hear the man’s assistant on the phone scheduling an appointment. Darrow waited until she stopped talking and walked inside.
“Can I help you?” she said. She was a pretty, dark-haired woman in a Navy officer’s uniform. Darrow hadn’t seen her before, but then the staff around here was constantly changing; officers rotated in and out, particularly in the spring.
“Yes, ma’am,” Darrow said. “I’m here to see General McQueen.”
“And your name?” she asked.
“Darrow Fergusson.”
“One moment, please.” She picked up her phone and spoke into it, then put the receiver in the cradle. “You may go in,” she said.
Darrow walked past the assistant’s desk and down the hallway, to the general’s office. He rapped lightly on the door.
“Come in,” a gruff voice answered.
Darrow pushed the door open and walked inside. The general’s office sat in a corner of the building, looking out over the West Wing of the White House. The bookshelves were lined with military memorabilia: helmets, mortar shells, challenge coins. A framed flag of the United States, folded into a triangle, hung on the wall. McQueen himself sat behind a large wooden desk, a computer and a stack of papers in front of him.
“So? What do you have for me, kid?” McQueen said.
Man, this guy didn’t beat around the bush. Darrow considered what he’d seen over the course of the last several days. Some strange things, but…
“Nothing, sir,” he said.
“Nothing,” McQueen repeated flatly, unimpressed. “Were we not in the same room when I told you this girl could be compromising national security? You have two options here, kid. Be the hero who exposes a liability. Or lose everything you’ve worked your ass off to get.”
Darrow shrugged, heart beating wildly in his chest.
“I guess Georgetown isn’t as important to you as I thought,” McQueen said, shaking his head. “This is why your generation is going to destroy this country. Damn trophies just for participating. You have no idea how to play to win.”
Darrow fumed inside. So McQueen wanted a fight? Well, Darrow would be happy to give him one. Time for Plan B. He fumbled his fingers on the phone in his pocket and tapped the button he’d gotten ready on his way in: record.
Addie sat alone in her room, laptop balanced on her knees. Darrow had always been a terrible liar. What was he really doing today? She tapped her keyboard to wake up her computer, logged into the White House intern office’s schedule, and read until she found Darrow’s name:
D. Fergusson: Press Office, monthly newsletter mailing
He wouldn’t have blown her off for that. Addie clicked through a couple more screens until she reached his personal account. It didn’t take long to find his calendar. There was only one thing on it: a meeting with General James McQueen at the EEOB. Addie looked at the time.
It was happening now.
She drummed her fingers on her computer. Okay, so maybe Darrow was doing a project for the guy. But if that was the case, why be so dodgy about it? And it wasn’t on the official schedule, either. Addie drummed her fingers harder. This McQueen guy’s name sounded awfully familiar.
Suddenly it hit her. He’d been brought in here six months ago, in response to…
Addie’s fingers stopped moving. The blood drained from her face. She had to know what Darrow and McQueen were meeting about. Now.
It took her a minute to find the general’s computer on the network, and another five to hack in. He was good—he’d added his own extra layer of security, just like her mother. But Addie was better. She sailed past it, wiped her forehead, and checked the time. 5:06. If McQueen was as prompt as Darrow, the meeting was already under way. She had to hurry.
Addie tapped a few more keys and activated the camera on McQueen’s computer. An image of his pockmarked face filled Addie’s screen.
“—jerking me around, kid,” he was saying. “I know you have something on her. Or you wouldn’t have come here today.”
Addie’s skin prickled. She listened intently.
“You know why I came.” It was Darrow’s voice, coming from somewhere else in the room. “The question is whether you’re really going to follow through on your absurd threat.”
“Oh, I see,” McQueen said. “You’re calling my bluff. Fine. Let me just show you the file I’ve prepared to send to Georgetown’s office of admissions if you don’t play ball.”
Addie’s chest tightened. She hadn’t expected this. McQueen was blackmailing Darrow? He had no right. And McQueen was the last person she wanted on her trail. At least he hadn’t gone to the president yet.…
McQueen clicked his mouse. Addie clicked hers. She opened another window, accessing McQueen’s main file directory as quickly as she could type. She barely breathed, heart pounding, as she executed a search using Darrow’s name.
C’mon. C’mon.
She could see McQueen in the corner of her screen, typing furiously.
A file popped up on Addie’s monitor with Darrow’s name on top. It was some sort of police report. Without even reading it, she hit delete, then leaned back and exhaled loudly. She performed a quick search on McQueen’s computer for any other files that contained her friend’s name. Nothing. It was clean. But she knew that didn’t mean it was the end of things.
Darrow watched as McQueen pounded on his keyboard, face reddening. Whatever he was looking for, it was obvious he couldn’t find it.
“What’s the matter?” Darrow asked.
McQueen looked up, lip curled into a snarl. “Nothing�
�s the matter, kid.”
“Really?” Darrow raised an eyebrow, feeling his confidence grow. “It looks like you might have lost something.”
McQueen stopped typing and folded his arms across his chest. “I haven’t lost anything,” he said calmly. “Like I told you before, nothing is ever truly gone. You just have to know where to look. So if you’re thinking of backing out of our agreement, I’d suggest you think again.”
“Our agreement?” Darrow said.
McQueen let out a frustrated breath. “Yes, our agreement. Did you bump your head at rowing practice today or something? You find out what’s going on with Addie Webster and I’ll make sure Georgetown never finds out about your juvenile indiscretions. Got it?”
Darrow slipped his hand into his pocket and palmed the phone. He stopped the recording and smiled.
“Got it.”
Addie couldn’t sleep. Whatever McQueen had on Darrow, it was enough to make her friend consider spying on her. She had to make sure there were no traces of that police report. Anywhere. As the D.C. Metro Police’s Web page lit up her screen, Addie created a backdoor into their servers, and after a half hour of searching she found Darrow’s sealed file.
With a twinge of guilt, she opened the record. Maybe it wasn’t any of her business what Darrow had done. He obviously didn’t want anyone to know. Addie shoved those feelings aside. Sure it was. Darrow had made it her business the day he’d tried to log on to her computer.
She squinted and read the police jargon:
At 01:27 hours, Officers Blake and Parker responded to an alarm at JFK Junior-Senior High School, 2208 2nd Street SE. Officers located group of four males on the bleachers of the football field consuming alcoholic beverages. Officers approached, at which point suspects attempted to flee, striking Officer Blake in the head with a beer bottle, causing the officer concussion and severe bleeding. Darrow Fergusson, 14; Lance Martin, 15; Daniel Lee, 14; Nick Anderson, 16, subsequently apprehended by street patrol at 01:35 hours and charged with trespassing, consumption of alcohol by a minor, resisting arrest, and assault of an officer.
A lump formed in Addie’s throat, picturing this other Darrow: the young teenager, stuck in a no-man’s-land between the confident senior she knew today and the sweet boy she’d been friends with as a child. Addie couldn’t help but feel responsible somehow, like her disappearance had knocked the universe off its axis. First Elinor’s addiction; now this. Addie had suffered, but they had suffered, too. Enough was enough.
One keystroke and Darrow’s file was permanently deleted from the system.
Once she was done, she considered making contact. Maybe she should let them know she might have been compromised. But she quickly changed her mind. It was too risky. He didn’t tolerate mistakes. Addie would handle Darrow and McQueen herself.
She logged in to the White House network and did one more fruitless search for Shi, then closed the computer and pushed it aside. But she still couldn’t sleep. She threw off her covers and got out of bed, remembering the chocolate cake she’d skipped for dessert tonight. Maybe it was still in the refrigerator. Addie slipped down the hallway, tiptoeing for reasons she couldn’t explain.
This is my house, she thought. I don’t have to sneak around.
When she rounded the corner to the kitchen, she was surprised to discover the light on and her mother sitting at the table. Liz Webster turned around, mouth in the shape of an O.
“Hi, honey,” she said, flushing. “Looks like you caught me.”
“Caught you?” Addie said.
Her mother slid a plate out in front of her. “I might just be eating that piece of chocolate cake you didn’t want tonight. Hope that’s not what you’re here for.”
“No,” Addie said, her mouth watering at the rich smell of chocolate. “I just couldn’t sleep.”
“Yeah, me neither,” her mom said. “Here, sit down.” She pushed out the chair next to her. “It’s good cake. Grab a fork and join me. I can’t eat this whole piece myself. Well, I shouldn’t. It’ll be just like the old days. Remember when we used to share cupcakes? I ate the bottom and you had the top?”
“Yeah, I remember,” Addie said with a sad smile.
“Here.” Her mom spun the plate around. “The frosting side is all yours.”
Addie didn’t really have the heart to tell her mom that she preferred cake to frosting now. Instead, she grabbed a fork and sat down, taking small bites. Her mother took a forkful, then set it down, silently watching Addie.
“What’s the matter, Mom?” Addie said. “Do you want some of the frosting? I’m not five years old anymore. I can share.”
“I know you’re not five years old anymore. I mean, look at you. You’re so grown-up. So beautiful.” Liz Webster’s voice caught in her throat.
“Mom?”
“I’m sorry,” her mother said. “It just breaks my heart every time I look at you. All those years I missed and can never get back.”
Addie didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry,” she finally squeaked out.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Liz said. “Nothing at all.”
Addie’s heart lurched around in her chest. It felt so good having a mother again. But it felt so wrong, too. Where had Liz been when Addie needed her? After Addie was stolen away from everything she knew and loved? When she’d cried in the middle of the night in a cold, dark room…alone.
Even when Addie had been little, before she’d been taken, her mother had been like a shadow in her life. The nanny had been the one to read Addie bedtime stories and hug her when she fell off her bike and skinned her knees; Addie’s room and heart were left empty when Liz was flying cross-country on her many business meetings. She had barely known her mother then. She hardly knew her now.
Yet here they were, matching hands and forks reaching for bites of chocolate cake. Addie could feel the wall between them slowly crumbling. She didn’t know whether to kick it the rest of the way down or hurry to build it back up.
The chocolate frosting was suddenly sticking to the roof of her mouth. She got up to pour herself a glass of milk, then realized she had no idea where the glasses were kept.
“Top corner cabinet by the sink,” her mother said.
“Thanks.” Addie filled her cup and sat back down.
“So…” Liz said with a hesitant smile. “It’s nice to see you and Darrow hanging out again.”
“Yeah,” Addie said noncommittally, seeing the wheels spinning behind her mother’s eyes. Everyone knew the whole Webster meet-cute story, and Liz was probably hoping for a repeat performance from her daughter. Her parents paraded it out for every election. Mark Webster and Elizabeth Chan, college sweethearts who fell in love when Mark accidentally broke Liz’s brand-new glasses at the homecoming dance while trying to impress her with his not-so-graceful break-dancing moves.
Applause every time. Especially when Mark attempted to do the “robot” as demonstration.
“Hey,” Liz said. “I want to show you something.”
“All right,” Addie said, wondering where this was headed.
Liz took her hand like they were a couple of best girlfriends and led her into the First Lady’s Suite to the dressing room. Liz released Addie’s hand and pointed at a brocade couch opposite the fireplace.
“Have a seat,” she said with a grin. “I’ll be right back.”
Addie lowered herself onto the soft cushions and watched her mother disappear into the closet. She returned a few minutes later with a dress draped over her arm. She held it up by the quilted hanger.
“Well, what do you think?” she asked, twirling it around.
Addie actually gasped. The dress was an iridescent shade of seafoam green, subtly reflecting the light from the chandelier above her mother’s head. It almost looked as though it was made of water. But it wasn’t gaudy at all. Long and simple, with a sweetheart neckline, a plunging but tasteful back, and a subtle flare at the bottom.
“It’s beautiful,” Addie said. �
�You are going to look incredible in it.”
Her mother laughed, almost sounding giddy. “No, silly,” she said. “It’s not for me. It’s for you.”
“For me?” Addie said.
“Yeah, I was going to save it as a surprise, but I just couldn’t wait. You really like it?”
“Are you kidding?” Addie said. “I love it. But…what’s it for?”
“Your welcome-home reception. I wanted you to have something to wear that made you feel special. It’s by my favorite designer, Janie Liu. She has great taste, just like you.”
Addie’s cheeks flushed.
“I’ve been working with her on it,” her mother continued. “Trying to design something that would really suit you. We had to do some guesswork on the sizing, but it can still be tweaked. Do you want to try it on?”
It was well past midnight, but Addie was wide-awake.
“Yeah, okay,” she said.
“Good,” her mother said. “You go ahead and change. I’m not done with the surprises yet. Be right back.…”
Liz disappeared again. Addie slipped out of her pajamas and pulled the dress over her head. It even felt like wearing water, smooth and liquid. And it fit perfectly.
Addie was running her hands over the silky fabric when Liz returned. She stopped dead in the entryway.
“What?” Addie said. “Does it look awful?”
“Oh no, Addie,” her mother said. “Not at all. You’re breathtaking. Just look at yourself.” Addie’s mother pointed at a full-length mirror across the room. Addie stood in front of it, inspecting the dress. Her mother came up behind her and gently placed a hand on Addie’s shoulder.
She was right. The seafoam color brought out the green in Addie’s eyes and played up the contrast between her dark hair and fair, lightly freckled skin. “I’ve never seen anything more perfect,” her mother said. “And the dress isn’t bad either.”
Addie snorted. “Mom. Lame.” But she couldn’t help looking again. She barely recognized the reflection staring back at her. The dress was perfect. And it was exactly what Addie herself would have chosen.