A Thousand Ways To Run

Chapter 7

I had been back in my room for no more than fifteen minutes when another knock came on the door followed shortly by two people rushing in. I was sat back at my desk, still in the same clothes, raking my hand through my hair, feeling distressed.

Porter stumbled in first, his suit jacket flying behind him as he angrily and briskly approached me. Penny wasn't far behind, lightly shutting the door and not looking too upset about whatever it was that had Porter in a hissy fit. He ran a hand through his dark blonde hairand played the part of a man so annoyed that he couldn't find the words to say; looking all around the room and rotating his head around. Penny looked professional: her straight black hair shiny and her hands not fidgeting.

His large hand rested on my desk, just inches from the math equation I was working on.

“You're really going to sit there and pretend to be innocent?” he sneered at me.

“What?” I said, actually confused, mostly because there were a lot of things I could have been guilty of.

“What do you think I'm talking about?” Porter challenged.

“I honestly don't know.”

“Charlotte…” Penny warned, her voice lower. She was starting to look slightly annoyed with my games.

“Where did you go?”

"What are you talking about?"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes in thought. “At exactly 2:17 this afternoon,” he began, opening his eyes and pressing both hands on the desk, leaning into me, “an anonymous employee came to this room to gather your dirty dishes, and you weren't here.”

“It's called a bathroom—”

“Likely story,” he seethed.

“Yeah, which is why it's also true.”

He glared at me again, and I froze. The only way to prove yourself innocent in life: elaborate on the lie. Pretend you saw and heard the most likely of things and acted normally. I was beyond used to lying and the frustrated authoritative administrators who always have a hunch that I’m deceiving them.

“I was in the bathroom, and I heard the door open. Then the employee paused for six seconds before leaving. I didn’t think I needed to say anything. Do you honestly believe I would risk playing hide n’ seek from you in the daylight? That’s, like, rule number four in sneaking out.” I chortled, crossing my arms and playing the you-must-be-stupid-if-you-think-I’m-that-sloppy act. It helps to be a teenage girl, sometimes. So undervalued, and so underestimated.

Porter narrowed his eyes at me, and I flinched back. His stare made me feel uneasy. As much I could disvalue and insult him, he was a federal operative. He was trained to test the lying abilities of terrorists, con men and women, the slyest of the sly. I had a theory, though. And it’s that if someone is lying not only to cover their behind, but because they honestly wish it was true, then it’s a lot more believable. I wanted to keep Warren and I’s interactions a secret just as much as I wished I didn’t have to lie about it. I couldn’t have explained it. But he made me uneasy in a weird way. And lying about it would keep us both out of a lot of trouble.

His stare lingered on me for precisely seven seconds, staring uncomfortably deep into my blue eyes. I couldn’t look straight into his, though I pretended to, as I put on my coldest and most uncaring stare.

“Penny,” was all Porter said as he fit his hands into his dress pant pockets and walked calmly out of the room.

The CIA makes partners for a reason. You don’t get to pick yours. And once you are paired, it’s final. You get a new partner if A. one of you is lost and the CIA can’t find you. B. you retire.  Or C. somehow you are granted a higher up position or deemed a special operative that can survive being a singleton. People are trained and tested and put through rigorous evaluations to ensure the most effective pairs. Penny and Porter were the standard Good Cop, Bad Cop pair. Porter was the push, and Penny was the pull. I had no idea whether they got along or not, and it didn’t matter. They were stuck like glue, and had been for some time. Years of familiarity meant he could just say one word, ‘Penny’ and she immediately knew that he meant, ‘Deal with it,’ as Porter stalked out of the room to reduce his headache with, presumably and most likely, yet another cup of coffee.

“They should really schedule his surgery soon,” I started, glancing at Penny to see if she was listening, and continuing despite her indifference, “to remove the stick up his ass.”

“Charlotte...” she started again with the same condescending tone.

“I didn’t sneak out.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” she said, plopping a one-inch thick file on top of the desk, landing with a thud.

Curiously, I opened it. Pages and pages of the same picture: the white and blank hallways outside of my room. I flipped through, feeling the dread of what must have been caught on there. Hundreds of pictures were in the folder, every few would have an unknown blur, and they made my breath catch every time. I waited for Penny to say something, but she made me keep flipping through.

The small typed lettering in the corners held the time of the snapshot. I flipped through quicker, becoming more anxious at every off shadow and glitch. Then it happened. One single page that held a girls leg from below the knee. Her hand was also on the edge, as well as a few stray strands of black hair that flew behind her.

“We’re not stupid, Charlotte,” Penny said. She didn’t sound the least bit angry, but in the absence of emotion was an underlying anger so built up that it made me ashamed to look at the woman, the highly trained operative.

“I didn’t say that—” I started.

“You didn’t have to.”

She left the folder on my desk and began to walk out.

“Has Agent Porter seen these?” I called out, voice shaking with worry.

“He doesn’t need to.”

And Penny was gone like faded smoke. The guilty air hung around, like a stench that embeds itself into the fabric, in my hair, on everything.

I showered and sent the papers down the laundry chute in the bathroom, then got back to work on solving Newton's theories.

______________________________________________________________________

I was going to try to squeeze out another page in this one, but then I realized I was done with what I wanted chapter seven to be. So, a quick and short update.

Question: What do you all think of Porter? He's one of my favorite characters.

One of my favorite songs by one of my favorite bands over on the side ---->

Thanks for reading :)