From the Journal of William Kidd

Entry #8

Journal,

You know, I never thought I’d admit to the day when a girl kicked my ass, but Maggie did it.  She kicked it hard.  I think she’s still mad at me.  Whatever.  At least she’s not pulling down her shirt anymore.

Hughes took me to Nokesville again.  Said I needed some more practice.  He did the same thing with Bill the other night, so I guess it’s just my turn now.

We went to the park at the center of town.  I’ve been there a few times, I guess.  It’s mostly just trees.  Some flowers and a bench, too.  It’s exactly the sort of thing you’d expect to see in a town as small as Nokesville. There was a girl on the bench, her eyes fixed on a puppy that was goofing around on the lawn.  You’ll never guess what Hughes told me to do.

“Get her number.”

“Umm… what?”

Hughes just laughed like I was the cutest goddamned thing he’d ever seen before.  “Get her number.  You know, phones?  Don’t you kids still use those these days?”

Well, yeah.  We used them, I guess.  But those of us stuck on the wrong side of military-grade signal jammers do not.  I haven’t called a girl since I was in the sixth grade, and the only reason I did that was because Mom and Dad forgot to leave enough food when they flew off to Paris and the lady at the Soup Kitchen had given me her number the weekend before.  So, yeah.  The last time I called a girl I was literally starving.  I had no clue how I was supposed to talk a girl with pretty hair, pretty eyes, and a pretty puppy.  And with a full stomach?  Come on.

“Would you like a hint, Mr. Kidd?”

I nodded, because honestly I was going to take anything I could get.

“What is it that Professor Goode is always telling you kids to do?”

I thought back to Maggie’s dad and his many lessons.  There was one, however, that he gave every single day.  Two words that most frequently left his lips.  “Notice things?”

Hughes nodded, slowly.  Certainly.  “That is not only useful advice for the covert operative in you, but also for the teenage boy.  Understand?”

No.  No I didn’t understand.  Not even a little, but that didn’t seem to bother Hughes as he pushed me towards her.  “You’re a charming young man,” he called to me.  “So charm her.”

Whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.

So, with no other option in sight, I approached her and—oh.  Wait.  Someone’s walking past our door.  I think they’re pacing. 

It’s Maggie.  I’ve got to go, Journal.  I’ll catch you up on Dog Girl when I get the chance.

Regards,

Will