Bite the Bullet, Not the Dust

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Dad used to always tell me that pain in the heart was deeper and bloodier than any bruise I could get on my body.
And that day, those words hammered into my head so hard they almost became blood themselves.
"Get up, Jules!" Spencer shrieked, jumping on top of me. Repeatedly. Until I felt she had most certainly broken every bone I had.
I threw off the covers and groaned, opening my eyes to a gleaming Spencer and a very unamused Celia.
"Comó esta su amiga?" I asked, hoping Spanish would soothe her.
"A nuk ju guxojnë të përdorin spanjisht në mua!" she exclaimed.
"Celia, that wasn't even Spanish," Spencer said pointedly. "That was Albanian."
What can I say? Sometimes a girl gets confused when she knows twelve different languages.
"What's wrong?" I tried again, this time in English.
"You didn't tell us about him," Celia spat, crossing her arms across her chest.
"About who?" I tried, but I knew that was totally not going to fool them.
"And a REFRIGERATOR? Me? How did you even..." Celia threw up her hands in exasperation, apparently unable to end her sentence, and retreated to her bedroom to ponder the meaning of it.
"She'll get over it," Spencer said easily, plopping down on the mattress. "But anyway, this Jason Kane of yours..."
And then I watched my best friend pull out an ID file and look up at me expectantly.
"What?" I said.
She raised an eyebrow at me like something was not quite right in my head.
"Uh...we need to check if he's infiltrating into the CIA or something, duh. Because you definitely can't date him if that's his occupation."
"Spencer!" I gasped, but she wasn't going to be swayed by dramatics. "Of course he's not infiltrating the CIA, he's a regular boy."
Spencer raised another eyebrow.
"And the dating...?"
I shook my head.
"Of course not."
"Well, why not?" Spencer countered.
"It would never work!" I shrieked. "I'm a spy, and he's, well, he's...normal. I don't even know anything about him."
That's when Celia decided to drop in and show us on her laptop the information she had collected about Jason Gale Kane. Contrary to what I had thought, she actually was hacking into the school's permanent records, instead of sulking about kitchen appliances being named after her.

"Hmmm...," Celia murmured as she scrolled through. "He seems to like Spanish 101 and Physical Education, but lacks in the algebra and chemistry departments."
"I can totally relate," Spencer said, getting a dreamy look in her eyes.
I looked between the two of my beautiful best friends and sighed.
"Who wants him?"
Spencer looked shocked. Celia almost looked offended.
"He's definitely your's, you saw him first," Spencer cut in quickly.
"I prefer a boy with a little more spice, " Celia said, nodding her head, as if that made any sense.
Spencer gave Celia a weird look, then continued.
"Jules, he totally came up and talked to you and drooled over you. He so likes you! Plus, like I said, he talked to you first. You have dibs."
I shrugged my shoulders. Was it really so bad to claim a boy as if he were an animal? In teenage girl world, I'm pretty sure that was a normal occurrence.
Celia already had intercepted the emails between the track team coaches.
"Practice ends at 5:30 today," Celia said, looking at me with a crazy glint in her eyes. "That's in seven hours."
Spencer looked at the two of us.
"Are you guys thinking what I'm thinking?"
Celia squealed. I groaned.
"Showtime!" she yelled, rubbing her hands together.
Showtime preparation consisted of 30 minutes of trying on different outfits, 5 minutes of quick and "casual" makeup, and 5 minutes of Celia giving me tips on what to do if he wants to make out, despite my several attempts of trying to tell her make out sessions don't happen on second "spontaneous" encounters.
"Just remember Jules," Spencer said with a smile. "Be yourself."
I looked at her oddly, reflecting on the words.
Be myself?
For a girl that's been trained for eight years to not be herself...it was an unusual piece of advice to hear.

***

00800 hours: Operative Parker has not encountered The Asset quite yet, but hopes to very, very soon (it's rather chilly).
00830 hours: The Asset has exited the building.

I used this outing as another way to gather intel, and so I wouldn't have to explain to my father why I was waiting outside the track boy's locker room. I counted three escape exits: one through the top window that had a telephone wire nearby (zipline opportunity!), a ventilation shaft that emptied out into one of the courtyards, and a tiny tunnel in the side of one of the walls that filtered into the building. I took ten steps backward right before they came filing out, and then as they came, I acted like I was casually strolling around campus.
"Alright, Jules," Spencer's voice said in my ear. "Keep walking, and wait til he comes to you."
"Could you maybe slip our room number in the pocket of that junior with the wavy hair?" Celia asked.
"Celia!" Spencer hissed. "That's creepy!"
I couldn't help but grin a little, and it happened to be when I looked up and my gaze connected with none other than Jason Kane's.
He walked over to me, and I felt my heart pounding in my chest.
"Keep it cool, Jules," Spencer whispered, even though Jason wouldn't have possibly been able to hear her.
His hands slid in his pockets, and his eyes lit up. He fingered something before slipping it into his bag.
"You're Rose, right?" he asked, sticking out his hand.
Handshaking, I thought, was something we had already gone over. Was he trying to gather my fingerprints using some new form of chemical tracking oil? After all, his hands were rather moist...
"He just ran like, eight miles, Jules," I heard Celia hiss. How did she know what I was thinking? "It's probably sweat."
I looked up from our hands and back to his dreamy brown eyes.
"Yes, most definitely. It runs in the family. My grandma's middle name, actually. She was always a traditional woman and - "
Celia groaned.
"Jules, stop rambling about your grandma and remind him that you know his name."
"But anyway," I continued, blushing furiously. "You must be Jason."
I breathed a sigh of relief, glad I didn't blurt out his entire name (along with the rest of his family's).
"That I am," he grinned. "But I don't remember you from last year. Where did you come from?"
I bit my lip.
Where did I come from?
I came from several different places, but I didn't really have a home.
"Kansas City," I lied, clinging to my cover story for dear life. "My family and I just moved here recently."
"Cool," Jason replied with an easy smile. "What does your dad do?"
"He, uh, works for the government," I said. At least that wasn't a complete lie.
"And your mom?" he asked. "Or is she just a stay-at-home mom?"
I winced.
Stay cool, Jules.
"Yeah," I forced a smile. "Something like that."
I waited for Spencer to say something. I waited for Celia to congratulate me on my lying abilities.
Neither of them said anything, and I imagined their downcast faces, thinking about that horrible, awful night.
The night Mom didn't come home.

***

"You okay?" Spencer asked, rubbing my back as we sat in front of the TV.
"Fine," I said without blinking.
Celia turned and looked at me, giving me a sad smile.
"Jules, you don't have to pretend. There's no other operatives here."
"There are at least twelve bugs," I responded automatically. "And I know there's two cameras."
Because that's how it is in spy world. There's no privacy for young girls to cry.
Spencer had her head stuck in the fridge, probably looking around for ice cream or something.
"It's kind of weird how they have to watch us so much, even though we aren't even the Subject."
"They can see if we need help," Celia added.
"Or if we aren't to be trusted," I muttered under my breath.
If either one of them heard me, they didn't say anything. Spencer just came and plopped down on the couch beside with a carton of Ben and Jerry's strawberry ice cream like a best friend should. Celia had already grabbed a blanket, and we sat there huddled together, licking our spoons, trying not to think about that night.
"I think I'll head to bed, you guys," I said after a period of silence. "And...thanks."
Spencer gave me a sad smile; a rare emotion to ever be displayed across her pretty features. Celia folded the blanket and returned to her chemistry notes.
I brushed my teeth and my hair and tried not to feel anything. I pulled off my uniform and chose my comfiest and oldest pair of pajamas to sleep in. Then I grabbed an old sweatshirt of my Dad's and lay down on my bed. No tears came and no sudden feelings of sadness. As a spy, I had learned to swallow those emotions. Instead, I turned over on my side and forced myself to sleep.