Ships Ahoy!

The Shattered

Oprah stared at her partner's expectant high-five. She knew what he was thinking: that the two of them were an unbeatable pair who would stop at nothing to get the job done. But this wasn't like old times. This wasn't two partners assigned to a case. This was Ms. O failing at her job just one year in. And O'Donahue didn't understand that.

She watched the grin melt away. "Oprah?" he said in disbelief. "Don't leave me hanging, Oprah!"

But as much as it pained her, that's exactly what Oprah did. "It's too late, O'Donahue," she said heavily, turning away. "We can't save it now. We'll just have to build a new headquarters somewhere else."

As she continued on toward the Tube Lobby, some subconscious part of her was dimly aware of her partner's "Noooooo...!" of protest that seemed to echo on forever. But the rest of her was deaf to it.

After all, she wasn't really responsible for him as a partner anymore.

* * * * *

Years later, Oprah would tell three of her agents—Olive, Otto, and Owen—that it had been the worst day of her life. However, this wasn't entirely true. After headquarters was evacuated and completely submerged in balls, Agent Obfuscolina had the idea to contact the Mole People. Upon their arrival, the humanoid moles tunneled underground and created several breaches, then connected these breaches to the Odd Squad Tubes. This created a sort of giant vacuum, and by the end of the day all the balls were gone. Meanwhile, Oprah contacted Professor O at the Big Office to explain what had happened and ask for six new Control Balls. Professor O granted the request, but warned her that if this ever happened again, she would automatically lose her position as Ms. O. This was why she awarded Olive and Otto the Director's Honor Medal thirty years later, because unknown to the two agents, they had saved her career as well as her Odd Squad Headquarters. It was also why she exaggerated a little when telling them she had lost way more headquarters than one, so they wouldn't suspect.

In the end, Oprah also exaggerated about building another new headquarters somewhere else. This headquarters building was badly damaged from the ball flood, but it was still salvageable enough to restore within a few short months. So while she may have called it the worst day of her life, there had actually been a hopeful ending to it.

No, the real worst day of her life came later that same year, on August 4th of 1984. And it began with two little words.

* * * * *

"I quit."

Oprah couldn't believe her ears. She must have heard him wrong. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me," O'Donahue said in a level voice. "I'm quitting."

"No, you're not," she said, a short laugh of disbelief in her voice. "Not for this case. We've solved harder ones before, surely you would know that!"

"We?" O'Donahue shook his head. "We haven't solved a case together in over a year. And why would we? You're too busy being the boss. You don't have time for investigation anymore."

Oh, no. She was slowly beginning to realize that her worst fear was coming true. "But I did today!" she insisted. "Look, I'm right here with you! You asked for my help and I came!"

"But only after you were finished being busy at your new job," he countered. "You told me to wait until you had a spare moment, and that was last week!"

Oprah had no answer to that. She'd never seen O'Donahue this angry before. His anger was different from her own, though: where hers was hot and quick to flare, his was cold and slow but steady. It frightened her, so she tried to change the subject. "Okay look, let's focus on the case. We have two gigantic dashes in the wooden planks on the pier, right here. The sandcastles on the eastern half of the beach were left alone, but the ones on the western half were destroyed, and one of the ruined sandcastles was moved over there to the eastern half—"

"Oprah."

"O'Donahue, listen, we'll go to the Math Room, we can do this—"

"No, we can't. Why won't you relate, Oprah? I've been trying to solve this case for weeks now, and so far you haven't done anything to help."

"But I only just started—"

"I'm not finished."

"Neither am I!"

"Well then, we are."

"...Excuse me?"

"I know you heard me, Oprah," he said coldly. "We're finished. Through. If you really wanted to help me—if you really cared—you'd've come when I needed it. And if you really needed my help as an adviser, you'd have taken me off the case instead of keeping me out in the field."

Oprah wanted to protest. But a little voice in the back of her mind stopped her. He's right, it said. If you really cared about him, you'd have stopped this from happening.

SHUT UP! she wanted to scream back. Yes I DO care! But the words wouldn't come.

All she could say was, "You're making a mistake. We've been through everything together, you'd be juiced to leave now—"

"Juiced? Ha!" O'Donahue barked out a bitter laugh. "Says the Joanie who's actually on the juice. Oh, the irony." With that, he calmly shrugged out of his uniform jacket and put on his red-framed sunglasses. "Never thought I'd have to say this again, but Oprah—" he flung his jacket over one shoulder and hoisted his invisible stereo over the other "—it's been real."

And without a backward glance, Oprah's partner of 114 years was gone.

She watched him go.

He was still wearing that blue Hawaiian shirt after fifteen months.

The first tear pricked at her eyelid.

It was then that Oprah lost all awareness. She would dimly remember collapsing in the sand, then finding herself in the Math Room while Yucks handed her a juicebox, then popping out of the tubes into her office, then examining the tear stains on her face at home that night. The next morning Oprah woke up angry, and stayed that way ever since.

* * * * *

XXXXX

* * * * *

Finally it was over.

Still shaky, breaths shuddering, Ms. O stood up and looked around. No one had come. No one had spotted her. Thanking her lucky jackalope stars, she began making her way down the hall outside the warehouse to her office, resolving to call him at last once she got back. Ms. O didn't know it yet, but during that phone call she would learn two important things. One was that he could have left the jacket and badge at the beach on that day, yet didn't. The other was that when he'd walked away, he'd been crying too.

She couldn't know any of that. But for the first time in too long, she felt a sense of peace. Maybe today was the day, after all.

Meanwhile, back in the Odd Squad Warehouse, Olive and Oscar began their story.