Unauthorized Communication

Chapter 4: Drew

I sighed in relief as the bell rang and the horrid birthday song my seventh period teacher insisted on ended. Quickly trying to leave class, I grabbed my bag and headed toward the door but not before Tanner came up to me and slapped me on the arm.

"Dude! Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?"he yelled.

"I thought you knew,"I shrugged.

"No, I didn't know!" he continued to shout.

I sighed, readjusted my backpack, and continued out the door. Tanner right behind me.

"Seriously," Tanner said. "Why didn't you tell me about the greatest day of your life?"

"It's not 'the greatest day of my life',"I stated, painful memories flooding back. "Besides, my birthday's not cause for celebration."

"Of course it is! Birthdays are meant to be celebrated, dude!" he exclaimed.

"Not mine," I mumbled.

Apparently Tanner heard because a look of concern crossed his face. Then he grew serious, which is not a good combination.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" he asked.

Actually, something did happen. I closed my eyes, remembering the smoke. The fire. The screams. My birthday was not a day of celebration. It was a day of mourning. I sighed and opened my eyes. Tanner was watching me with a concerned expression.

"Dude, I'm...I'm sorry," Tanner apologized. "I didn't know it was that...bad. You don't have to tell me if you-"

"It's okay Tanner," I stopped him. "It was nothing."

He remained silent as we unlocked our bikes and headed home. It wasn't until we reached his road that he spoke again.

"Listen, Drew," he started. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you bro. Or if you just want to escape Cruella De Vil."

I laughed slightly at his joke. Tanner smiled.

"Thanks," I said, waving as he turned down his street and waved back.

I continued my trek home, wishing the day would hurry up and end. I knew as soon as I got home, though, that the day would continue to drag on. I parked my bike around the corner of Madame Palenski's Novelties and headed inside. Where none other than Cruella De Vil herself waited for me.

"Drew, there you are," she exclaimed. "Do you have any homework?"

I nodded, remaining silent. Ms.Palenski huffed.

"Well, head upstairs and hurry up and finish it. You still have chores to do," she said and pushed me towards the stairs.

I trudged to my room and shut the door. I actually didn't have homework, just a project due by the end of the week. But Ms.Palenski didn't need to know that. Instead, I began busying myself with random things I felt like doing, which mainly consisted of writing (a little hobby of mine). I was about half-way through a page, when I heard the door to the shop open, which wasn't unusual except for the fact that the store was closing in one minute and as I've previously proven, Ms.Palenksi does not do late. So this particular guest or guests caught my attention. Quickly and quietly, I made my way to the top of the stairs and listened, thankful that the curve hid me from sight.

"How may I help you?" I heard Ms.Palenski say, annoyance evident in her voice.

"We're looking for a Drew Thacher," said a man.

Me? Why would someone be looking for me? I wondered. There was a pause before Ms.Palenski spoke again, but not to the man. She was talking to me.

"Drew!" she yelled. "Come here, please."

I waited a few minutes before heading down. I didn't want them to know I had been listening to their conversation. At the base of the stairs, I saw what I was dealing with. Standing in front of Ms.Palenski were five men dressed in all black, who kind of reminded me of the CIA agents I had read about in some of Ms.Palenski's old books.

Guests, I thought to myself. Definitely guests.

I walked up and stood next to Ms.Palenski. Suddenly all attention turned to me. I gulped. I did not like being the center of attention.

"Drew Thacher?" a man asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"We're from M26," he said.

"What's-"

"Never mind that," the guy interrupted me.

"We have some news about your father, Andrew Thacher," said another man.

"He's gone radio silent," another guy stated.

"He's MIA," clarified the first man.

I swallowed the lump building up in my throat. They didn't need to say anymore. I knew what was coming next. I knew, in my father's line of work, MIA and RIP were never that far apart.