The Other Side

Three Teenagers. One Spy: Chapter 23

I'm going to be open and honest about this. I had writer's block and not even the usual ice old glass of irn bru, headphones on and peanut m&m's would work. But nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it.

--Crazy-Amy.

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I was sitting in the gym. Gun shots were going off all around me and I was a little scared. . . OK, I was freaking out! Half an hour ago Malcolm was shooting up my classroom whilst my peers were giggling like they were watching the best show ever. I may, or may not have a gun phobia, I probably do. I admit it. And it didn't exactly help that I was in a gym surrounded by a bunch of happy-go-lucky teenagers that had come across a couple of sniper rifles, semi automatics and machine guns. I'm a normal girl, or I was a normal girl that had no experience of guns. Until that one time Dr. Morris made me practise on those dummies. I got lucky. . . I realise that now. I've had approximately five goes so far and I failed each and every one of them.

So instead of making a fool of myself, and scaring the hell out of my peers in the process, I resulted in sitting down in the corner and hugging my knees to my chest with my hands pressed firmly over my ears, allowing no big scary sounds to frighten me.

I watched as Lori was laughing as she and Landon worked on their aim. I watched as Bethy shot dummies from hundreds of metres away with such precision I only thought existed in movies.

Bang! Bang! BAAAANNNNNGGGG!!!!! I kept hearing those sounds over and over again. I pressed my hands on my ears harder. I closed my eyes and tried not to think of guns, but my mum and I.

"Mummy?" I asked.

"Yes, my little sweet pea?" She answered, washing the dishes in the sink.

"Why are you going to your work again? I miss you too much." I blubbered. My 'mummy' was going to leave me again for a week, or maybe a month, maybe even two. I propped myself up on the kitchen table and gave her a long pout.

"Sweetie," She started, putting down the dish she was washing and wiping her hands on the kitchen towel. "I have to do this so we can get money and pay the bills."

"Why can't daddy pay the bills?"

She scooped me up in her arms and twirled me around in her arms making me giggle. "That wouldn't be fair on daddy; Mummy not working, just daddy. That wouldn't be fair now would it?"

I sniffled when she put me back on the ground and put on a sad pout. "No . . ." I mumbled.

"So will you be good for daddy when I go? I'll be coming back soon, honey."

"Do you promise?" I asked, ignoring the comment on being good for daddy.

She hesitated for a moment before smiling softly at me. "I promise."

"Tell daddy that I've done the dishes," she looked back at half the pile of plates stacked in the sink, "Well, most of them." My mum said with a soft laugh. "Now I need to go. Can you watch me go, sweetie?"

A few tears ran down my face, wondering how long she would be this time. "Yes, mummy."

She beamed at me before scooping me up and placing me on her hip and grabbing the little bag she always took to go to work.

Once she reached the door she opened it and placed me down, bending down to my height. "You'll be good for daddy?" My mum always remembered everything and always told me this before she left.

"Yes," I snuffled.

She patted my head adoringly before placing a big kiss on my cheek and giving me a hug. I threw my small arms around her and buried my face into the crook of her neck.