Discovered

Chapter 5: Getting Permission

Seeing my eyes, Uncle Seth shook his head furiously. "There is no way I am taking you to Harlem, New York." I let out a sigh. "You do know that if I take you there, your parents, especially your mom, are going to kill me." Uncle Seth stated.

I nodded very carefully, understanding why my thirty-four year old uncle is extremely afraid of my former CIA mother. "Don't worry," I shrugged. "I got it covered." Uncle Seth crossed his arms.

"Really?" he chuckled. "Like how?" "I will tell my parents that I am going to tell them about my theories about the killer and ask if I can go to Harlem. Next, you will come up with a fake excuse note, telling the school office that I wouldn't come here for a few days or so."

"How come?" Uncle Seth asked. "Because I have a grandmother with alzhiemer's and my parents are making me go to Harlem to spend some quality time with her." I shrugged. "What's in it for me?" Uncle Seth asked. "I'll give you fifty bucks," I promised. "Cleo," Uncle Seth began. "I am your uncle, I do not take bribes from my niece."

I thought about it for a moment then smiled. "Tell you what," I began. "You will take me to Harlem and in return, I will make sure that your soon-to-be girlfriend keeps her word."

Uncle Seth's smile appeared on his face. "Deal," he replied, shaking my hand firmly. Smiling to myself, I kissed him on the cheek then rushed upstairs to head over to my mother's room.

As my fist came on the door, my thoughts weighed heavily on my mind. Mom is grieving, I thought. Are you sure you want to do this? Just then, Mom told me to come inside. Reluctantly, I opened the door and walked inside.

Mom laid relentlessly on her side of the bed, with dried tears coming out of her eyes. Maroon walls were caving on her like a prison cell. In front of the bed were drawers and Dad's writing desk. Picture frames of memories were standing on top of the table.

Two bookshelves were filled with books of History, culture, and Mystery. "Hey Mom," I greeted sadly. "How was work?" Mom pulled herself out of bed then blinked her eyes at me.

She wore a black tank top and green shorts. Her wild hair was covering her shoulders. When she looked at me, she gave me a smile. "I quit my job," Mom shrugged. "I never liked it." My smile fell flat.

She pat an empty space next to her then told me to sit down. I swallowed hard then did what I was told. "I heard that they find your grandfather's killer," Mom sighed. "Did you see the mugshot of Wallace Gerald?" I asked. Mom stroked my hair then nodded.

"I don't think he did it," I admitted. Much to my surprise, Mom's eyes didn't widen. "I know," she agreed. "That man is still out there." I touched Mom's face and told her I know. "I need to go to Harlem to find out what happen."

Mom gave me a sly look. "I see," she said. "So you want me to agree that you are going to Harlem?" I sucked my cheeks then blushed. She overheard my conversation with Uncle Seth. "Could you please say yes?" I asked. "Pretty please with blueberries on top?" She thought about it for a moment then let out a sigh. "I have to talk about it with your father." she sighed.

"But you agree that I can go to Harlem?" I asked hopefully. "Yes," she nodded. I let out a squeal then hugged her tightly. "But you still have schoolwork to make up," Mom reminded. "You are going to call your friends and ask them what assignments your teachers concocted."

I nodded very eagerly. "I could be a school journalist assigned from my school to do some follow-ups on the shooting." "That's good, if your father agrees then we will help get some passports and plane tickets," Mom continued. "I will also take over the fake excuse note."

I bobbed my head again. She gave me a look before kissing my forehead. "Please be safe," Mom murmured. "I don't know what I could do if I lose you, Cleo." I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her tight.

"I love you, Mom." I whispered. She squeezed my back tightly then stroked my curls. "I love you too." As soon as Dad's car rolled over to the driving space, I heard Dad as he opened the door then smelled the leftover meat. "Cole," he said in wonder. "Did you cook this?"

"Uncle Seth did," Mom called. I hurried downstairs and found Dad inspecting the meat. He wore his dark blue FBI suit and had his brown hair slicked back. His green eyes flickered at the pot of half-eaten meat then back at me.

"Hey Cleo," he greeted. "How was your day at school?" I did a casual shrug. "It was good," I answered. "I am doing a History project, but so far, I haven't started it." Dad walked over then kissed my forehead.

"I'm sure you can come up with something," Dad reassured. "So, what's going on?" I but my lip then stared at the ground. He notices this then let out a moan. "Let's hear what you have to say," Dad said. "I want to go to Harlem." I blurted.

He gave me a long stare then sets his suitcase down. "Does this have to do with your grandfather's killer roaming free and the boy is behind bars?" Dad guessed. Not surprised, I looked up at him then flashed him a small smile.

"Let me guess," I answered. "You've been there, right?" Even Dad let out his crooked smile. "Something like that," he chuckled. "Are you going to complete your homework?" I nodded very carefully. "Are you going to be careful?" he asked. I nodded again.

Dad shut his eyes then opened. For an instant, he nodded and agreed that I can go to Harlem.