Making the Grade (The Model Spy #2)

Chapter 2 - The Catch

I unlocked the front door to Fred’s house and walked inside. The chandelier flickered on above me. Fred had recently installed some special CIA sensory gadgets in all of the electrical appliances. Mr. C. asked him to test them out, but there were a few little quirks to work out yet. Whenever I walked into the living room, the radio and television went on simultaneously, usually at deafening volumes too.

I sighed as I pulled off my strappy heels and removed my jacket. As I opened a closet and began to put my things away, I heard Fred’s voice from his office. He was speaking rapidly to someone on the other end of his phone. Even though his door was closed tightly, I could still hear every word he said. I shook my head, trying to escape his voice. I had no interest in whatever national crisis he was discussing. I was on a break.

I worked my way through the large house to my room. I still wasn’t used to living with Fred. I loved it, of course. I loved getting to know him better and I loved his house right on the beach. I could hear the ocean from my bedroom! But it still felt weird. It didn’t feel like my home. I always felt like I was intruding, that I was being too loud, that I was stealing his food. There had been too much change in the past six months. Sometimes it felt like I was living in a never-ending dream, or nightmare, rather. I needed stability, something I doubted I was going to find working for the CIA.

I looked around my room, at a loss. After what had just happened, I felt dirty. It wasn’t my fault I dated a perverted loser. But then again, as a spy, I was supposed to be observant.

My only solace was that school was over. Graduation had been a week ago and Will was headed off to summer classes at college so he could bring his grades up in order to play football come the fall semester. I would never have to see his devilishly handsome face ever again.

I plopped back on my bed and turned on my side, clutching my pillow in my arms. Will’s sparkling eyes stared back at me from a photo on my bedside table. Grunting, I picked up the bright pink frame and pulled the picture out of the glass. Without giving it a second look, I crumbled it in my hands and threw it across the room.

I gasped as my eyes caught the picture that had been underneath the one of Will. It was Zach, standing outside the gates of Buckingham palace. The total picture was a hoax, just something he sent us so we knew he was safe. I mean, Zach would never get caught dead standing outside Buckingham palace in skinny jeans, a black hoodie, and…gasp…white sneakers.  Which was why I loved the picture so much. It made me laugh whenever I looked at it.

I wondered how he was. Was he safe? Was he enjoying life in D.C.? Did he have a girlfriend? Not that I cared…but I did. As far as I knew, I was one of the only friends Zach had. If he had a girlfriend, she would have replaced me in the blink of an eye.

I placed the picture of him next to my bed and walked out to the balcony and sat on a cushioned chair. The waves crashed to the sandy shore violently. That probably meant a storm was on the way. The chilly night wind twisted and knotted my hair. I brought my legs to my chest and hugged my body.

Why didn’t Zach talk to me anymore? Was I that disposable? He could have at least texted. Even a “Wut up?” would have sufficed, though I doubted his texts would sound like that. More like “Hey loser, how are you? How is your long distance relationship with Dylan going? Do they allow conjugal visits in Guantanamo?” Truthfully, I would have preferred any text to no text.

“Laura?” Fred knocked on the opened balcony door.

“Yeah?” I tried to wipe the dried tears from my face, but I only succeeded in making my face even redder.

“May I talk to you?” Fred stood awkwardly at the door, his foot hovering over the threshold, unsure if he could continue further, perhaps unsure if he really wanted to after seeing my red and tearful face.