From the Journal of William Kidd

Entry #6

Journal,

We’ve gotten to that point in the summer when Hughes starts to train us one-on-one.  Today was my day with him, so while everyone else was running drills, he and I went to get coffee in Nokesville.

We talked about my parents, mostly.  He wanted to know how I was handling it—after all, they were declared MIA last month, but those two get declared MIA so often that we really should just announce it when they aren’t missing.  It’d be easier that way.  

He had me practice on some people in town—not any moves or anything.  Just the mind stuff.  He think’s I’m pretty good at that.  I can make people believe things.  There was one moment when a cop was about to give a parking ticket to a red Sudan, so Hughes gave me the objective of getting out of the ticket.  I told the cop it was my car and then I made up some sort of sad story about my cat dying.  Since we were right outside the vet, she bought it.  People are suckers for dying animals.  Here’s a tip for you Journal: when you’re trying to get out of something, make people feel bad for you.  Pity will get you just about anywhere.

Now that Sudan owner has one less parking ticket than they would have if I hadn’t shown up.  Maybe I am pretty good at this. 

It was weird being away from Bill and Maggie all day though.  I was glad when I finally got back.  The two of them were taking part in some extra sparing time.  That is until Miss Alex—or, I guess, Dr. Hughes—came in and yelled at them both.  “Practice time is for practice,” she said, checking for bruises.  That’s the thing about Miss Alex.  Even when she’s got no reason to, she’ll always check for bruises.  “Rest time is for rest.  Why you kids don’t understand that, I’ll never know.”

Bill just grinned as Miss Alex patted him down.  You would've too if she had done it to you.  But then Hughes cleared his throat and Bill’s smile fell straight off his face.  Maggie was real stiff the whole time Miss Alex examined her.  I think Miss Alex noticed because she spent a longer time looking at Maggie than she did looking at Bill.

I noticed that she kept pulling down at the bottom of her shirt—Maggie, that is.  It was like she was hiding something.  When I asked her why, she gave me a look that Maggie’s never given me before.  It was hard and cold and worst of all, dark.  For the first time, I noticed the shadows under her eyes as she glared at me.  It was strange, Journal.  I've never seen her so dark before.

It wasn’t until Miss Alex lifted up the shirt that I realized why.

If Miss Alex was searching for bruises, then she didn’t have to go any farther than Maggie.  It was like she was collecting them, right there on her gut and along her sides.  Black and blue.  Yellow and brown.  Big, small, round, rough, you name it.  Maggie had them all.  As soon as Miss Alex saw them, she pulled the shirt right back down, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone else had seen.  Of course we had.  It was hard to miss.

Bill and I looked right at each other.  Hughes didn’t say a word.  Miss Alex was the only one to say anything.  “Come on.  You’re spending the night with me.”

No visitors allowed.  I guess we’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to see what’s going on.  I hope she’s okay, Journal.

Regards,

Will