The Thirteenth Union: Prelusion

Chapter Two: Promises

"Please be safe," Annalise begged into my ear. Her arms encased me in a warm hug. She smelled like clean cotton and gardenia flowers, but her hair fought off her perfume with the Moroccan oil shampoo.

"I will, Mom," I replied with a smile of genuine assurance.

She pulled away from me, but her hands stayed, gripped tightly to my shoulders. Her soft brown hair hung in large curls around her face. At one time, her skin was tight and soft, wrinkleless and full of life. Her brown eyes were a heavy bark brown with hazel undertones, like dark caramel. Her slender curves filled out her blue polka dot dress, from the arch of her thighs to the wideness of her hips, up to the thin waist that was wrapped in a lace belt. I envied that my mother had the kind of beauty that matched equally with a good-hearted nature and naïve kindness. I was a spitting image of my father: a black haired, green-eyed, pasty girl with sharp features and a resting expression that struck fear in the eyes of both children and fully grown men.

I stood by a mountain of black luggage pieces. Jethro, our guard, was stilling piling case after case after each cross out of the house. As well as a well-trusted and highly-skilled guard, Jethro Grant was a long family friend and greatly appreciated asset to our family. Jonathon Pearson, my father, refused to leave his study. For the last thirty minutes, we'd been standing in our gravel driveway, waiting for him to put down his pen and come out to wish me good luck. Jethro was very talented at getting my father to put down his career for a few seconds and spend them with his family-that's probably why Annalise appreciated him so much.

"And you promise to call every Saturday?" Annalise reiterated with a squeeze of my shoulders. "If you can get to a phone..."

"They'll have a phone," I said without any shred of doubt. "A phone is probably the lowest form of technology that the Academy has access to."

There was a building in the center of New York City. It was tall, shiny, and twisted into a modern mass of warped metal and funky architecture, a class-one boarding school for the richest of the rich and those who have more power than brains. I've only seen it once-on our trip to Manhattan that wasn't really a trip at all. Jonathon was stuck in meetings all weekend and Annalise bombarded me with talk of potential house remodeling-a house I didn't live in, nor had I ever been to-and of politics that I didn't find interesting.

See, Dad wasn't your typical dad, and neither was my mother. Jonathon Pearson wasn't his title. "Dad" wasn't his first name like other fathers. It was "Vice President." Instead of making pancakes for breakfast on Saturday mornings, he flew off in secure planes guarded by the Secret Service to go attend meetings and fill in for powerful people that had him on a leash. And Annalise was his agent. She scheduled his meetings, attended them most of the time, flew around the country, flew to other parts of the world, all while attempting to be the best parents they possibly could be.

I lived with my aunt, Annalise's sister-Sarah-and her husband-Uncle Charlie-and their two boys-Flynn and Desmond. Seven years I had spent with them. If I hadn't known the truth, I would have considered Davy my older brother and Mic my baby brother. Uncle Charlie would be my father and Aunt Gina would be Mom. They at least attended my debates, listened to me prepare speeches for Model U.N., and helped provide the resources necessary for projects, school supplies, and gave me the standard hugs and kisses goodbye. They had a big enough condo to support two growing boys that could eat an entire buffet-and then some-and house guests when the problem rose. Grandma would visit for the holidays and Grandpa would come for birthdays-they were divorced. Jonathon and Annalise came every couple of weeks, maybe more, and barely stayed the night. They tried to call, almost made it to twice a day before forgetting completely.

Over the summer, they'd arranged for me to spend a couple weeks in one of their many houses across country-sometimes I'd get to visit other Unions and taste the rich culture and ancient history.