Girl Incredible Page 2

  C2 nods, sits back, her blue eyes still worried. “Take care, Kitalia. And watch your six.”

  I let them go, refusing to feel anything. Just partners from time to time. I can handle things on my own or the bosses wouldn’t have reassigned them, would they?

  The back window of my retreat gives way under my touch as I escape to safety and the only place I can relax. I circle the long, wide room, feet quiet on the hardwood floor. I test a cushion on the low, white sofa, check behind the abstract painting I placed there as an obvious target for bugs. Clean and clear, just as I left it. I stride for the back of the apartment, to the white marble bathroom and a chance to shower off the tension of the day in luxury. But, even as I strip and enter the heat of the water sheeting from the rain head above, trying to unwind, to convince myself I did my job to the best of my ability, he lingers.

  The other psychic assassin. He probably thinks he defeated me, blocking me and using a bot against me. He has no idea who he’s up against. I’ll find him, somehow.

  And when I do, he won’t know what hit him.

  ***

  Chapter Three

  My phone alarm chirps at exactly 7:15 AM. I love the sound of it, programmed it especially to mimic the song of a sparrow. My favorite.

  It’s a super cheerful way to wake up. I’m already leaping out of bed, my fuzzy purple comforter slipping to the floor in a wash of static, the new day bright, sunny, beckoning through my double wide windows. A copy of my favorite book, Grace Grant and the Silver Brigade, slips to the floor with a thud. I scoop it from the pale pink carpet, her knowing smile shining from the cover and hug her to my chest. The girl detective’s never-fail attitude makes me feel like I can do anything. With careful hands, I replace her on the shelf over my computer before embracing the future.

  First day of grade eleven calls, and I’m ready to answer. So ready. Sure, summer was fun and everything, but this is junior year we’re talking about.

  Lifelong memories are made of days like this.

  I bounce sideways and pull open my closet door after offering myself a quick kiss in the mirror. My prepared outfit swings on a hanger. Took me hours yesterday to figure out just the right combination of skirt, tights, kitten sweater and scarf. I’m still hemming and hawing over the beret I might or might not wear when I step out of the shower.

  I’m almost too late for breakfast, but a girl’s bangs take priority, yo. My tiny scissors do a fabulous job, and after several back and forth swings of my head, I’m satisfied. If only that crooked front tooth wasn’t such a bummer. I run my tongue over it, wondering if Mom will let me have a diamond inset. At least then it would have a purpose. I could be proud of a tooth like that.

  I thud over the hardwood floor hallway with great satisfaction in my heavy black boots on my way to the stairs. The shining silver buckles catch the morning sunlight as I descend. The weight of them always gives me a rush. Sometimes it’s a struggle being just over five feet and a little on the skinny side—not that I’m complaining or anything. But my boots give me that certain presence I’ve always seemed to be missing.

  Look out, grade eleven—Kit MacLean is coming, and her boots are taking her there.

  It’s hard to walk soft or stop grinning when you have the best life ever. Though, it’s sad to see that there are two empty places at the kitchen table this morning, as there have been the last two mornings since my older siblings left for college. I wave to Calvin and Clare as though they are still with me and blow them kisses, knowing they are probably having a blast where they are.

  College life. Two more years. I can’t wait. Who am I kidding? Every day is a “can’t wait” event. How awesome is that?

  Mom smiles at me from behind the island, her blonde hair and blue eyes a mimic of my sister and brother. She’s so beautiful to me, I rush to hug her, stepping on her toe in the process.

  She just laughs and hands me a plate with my perfect breakfast, sparkles in her blue eyes. “You’ll be late, silly.”

  I twirl, my flounced skirt spinning around the tiger stripes of my new tights. I love how they make me look all exotic and furry. My butt barely settles on the edge of my chair, the one facing the back yard patio with the view of the spinning, glittering sun catcher. The prism rays dance over my plate while I munch poached egg on toast and hum softly in happiness over how yumtastic it tastes.

  Dad is gone to work, I guess, his knife and fork missing, napkin used and crumpled in their place. Mom doesn’t sit, hurrying around behind me. I’m not the only one who’s late.

  “Love you.” She kisses the top of my head as I second-guess my decision to leave the beret I found in a second hand shop upstairs in my closet. The color just didn’t go with my outfit. Mom seems nervous for some reason. But, she smiles anyway and touches my cheek. “Have a great first day, Kit.”

  I mumble the same to her around the last of my toast, wondering at her attitude. Her baby is growing up, I guess. Can’t blame her for feeling sad. I take a moment to dump my dishes in the dishwasher, hesitating at the bottom of the steps as the sun streams in through the kitchen windows, heating my cheeks. Hat or no hat? One glance at my giant faced watch and I have my answer.

  The bus will be here any second now and I don’t want to miss my ride.

  My lime green messenger bag waits for me on the back of one of the island stools, packed carefully with everything I think I’ll need for the day. One glance inside and I grin at the neatly folded top of a paper bag—Mom remembered my lunch. I spend the next few minutes as I exit and lock up the house, tossing my keys with the pink hammer keychain and fuzzy dice my sister and brother gave me last birthday into my bag while pondering what my mother might have put in my sandwich.

  So many delicious possibilities, I can barely stand it.

  The sunlight makes me blink, wish I’d brought my giant sunglasses, but like my hat it’s far too late to go back to the house now. I hear the rumble of the bus engine approaching the corner. I pause one moment to wave with enthusiasm at Mrs. Mingle, the neighbor next door. She scowls at me, pulling at the wrinkles around her almond eyes, her little dog clutched to her chest, but she doesn’t yell any profanities or tell me to get lost in her native language, something Asian.

  Awesome. I think she’s developing a soft spot for me after all these years.

  No time to explore the possibility. My boots thud on the sidewalk, messenger bag bouncing at my side. I’m already hot inside my fuzzy leggings and file a note to put them away for winter, maybe. By the time I reach the corner, I’m out of breath, but how fun was that? I grin at Clancy Parker and Abigail Simmons, both waiting as the bus pulls up.

  “Hey, guys!” I wave and bounce on my toes while the lights on the bus turn from amber to red, flashing overhead, the hiss of the bus door releasing that familiar scent combination of teenager B.O. and chemical cleaners. Ah, school. It’s going to be great to be back.

  Clancy and Abigail both smile, but they are chattering away to each other and turn their backs on me, hustling up the steps into the bus. I’ll catch up with them later. Funny, I hadn’t seen much of either of them all summer, though they both live on my block. I shrug away the conundrum of their absence from my life, forgetting as quickly as the question pops into my head, and make my way, grinning and waving with excitement, to sit with my bus buddy.

  More than that, Jimmy Jones is my closest friend and I can’t wait to fill him in on my summer. Third from the front, on the left, the place next to Jimmy on the cracked green vinyl is always saved for me.

  “Hey, Jimmy!” I plop down next to him, giggling at the fart noise the seat makes as I do. Same old seat. “How was your summer?” He looks out the window, like always, as the bus pulls away from the stop. White earbuds sit in his ears, the strings hanging down into the collar of his faded black hoodie, connected to the iPod I gave him last Christmas, I assume. He’s grown a lot since I saw him last, the faint stubble of hair on his cheeks. Wow, is Jimmy getting a beard? We used to be the same size,
but now he’s almost a head taller than me just sitting down. “Holy, you’re growing like a weed.” Mom’s favorite saying. Cracks me up. “Wow, the summer flew by, didn’t it? We made it to the beach this year, for a whole week.” Ohio in July can be brutally hot, so the vacation was awesome. Though, the local pool is a fun place to hang out with all the other kids.

  Jimmy doesn’t comment. Jimmy never does. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever said a word to me, not since first grade. But, he’s my best buddy. Always saves me a seat on the bus. That’s how I know he adores me.

  Besides, he likes to listen, which is great, because I love to talk. Which I do, the entire ten blocks to school. I know what you’re thinking. Why take the bus if I could walk? Duh. I’d think that would be obvious.

  I love the bus. And, it gives me and Jimmy time to hang.

  My suburb turns to the edge of town, Rimtree barely a city, really, but it’s home. Born and raised here, I know my part of it, from park, movie theater and mall like the back of my hand. Sure, it’s nice to drive to Cleveland every once in a while—two hours of adventure? I’ll take it—but there’s no place like home, as the saying goes.

  Rimtree High’s pile of red brick and concrete comes into view around the corner and I find it harder and harder to restrain my excitement.

  “This year,” I say to Jimmy, who huddles with his forehead pressed to the glass, “is going to be epic. I just know it.”

  Jimmy’s silence is all the affirmation I need.

  ***

  Chapter Four

  Our bus pulls in and I’m on my feet, first one off, as usual. I grin at Bill, our bus driver, who grins back and lets me out.

  “See ya, kiddo.” His voice has a deep, wet sound to the back of it and he coughs into his hand before waving.

  I’d never say it out loud, because it would be rude and might hurt his feelings, but he really needs to see a dentist about that plaque issue.

  The inside of the bus was hotter than I thought and, when I emerge into the morning sunshine and the crowd of chattering kids, I breathe a little sigh of relief. The front doors of the high school beckon me on and, with my messenger bag swinging and my boots announcing my approach, I grin my way into grade eleven like I own it.

  Because, yeah. I own it.

  There are tons of faces I know and I spend the next few minutes waving and grinning until my cheeks ache. Everyone looks fabulous after the summer, though the poor little freshmen seem nervous. I’m more than happy to help them, but it’s easy enough to figure out where to go from here. The auditorium doors stand open, a steady stream of designer jeans and laughter undulating inside. I bounce to the front row, next to the podium, so I can be nice and close to the principal when he shows up. Mr. Standard and I have a special relationship. No, not like that, gross. He just likes me, that’s all. Thinks I’m smart and is always calling me to his office to talk to me about stuff. Like, bullies and positive attitudes and how he wishes all of his students loved school as much as I do.

  He’s the only one I’m willing to talk to about how smart I really am. Because he makes sure to treat me like I’m normal instead of some freak. We’ve been friends since I started grade nine and I can’t imagine life at Rimtree High without him.

  I’m a little shocked, then, to see a strange woman take his place at the microphone. I can’t help but look around for Mr. Standard as the last of the students settle down and she begins to speak.

  “Good morning, students.” My gaze flickers from her briefly as a slim, pretty blonde is the last to sit down, looking nervous. New girl. She’s directly across from me on the other set of bleachers. I wave to her, knowing she must be nervous in a new school, but she doesn’t see me. Oh well. I’ll make sure to meet her later. The student body mutters a “Good morning” back to the strange woman and I join them with my own cheerful voice. She glances my way with a faint smile before going on. “Your former principal, Mr. Standard, has been reassigned to a new school in Cleveland.” A few mutters, but I’m the only one, it seems, who groans at the news. That sucks. What could possibly have happened? My mind spins with worst case scenarios before settling on a happy choice. He must have found an awesome job at a great school in the city where other kids need him more than we do. I quietly wish him well and smother my disappointment in favor of being happy for him. Yeah, I’ll miss him. But he deserves the best. “My name is Mrs. Emma Cradle, and I will be your new principal.”

  Okay then, that’s cool. I can adapt. She seems nice enough, smiling at me again as I clap. How come no one else is clapping? She deserves a nice welcome, I think.

  “My door is open to anyone who may need me,” she says. “I want to make this transition as smooth and positive as possible.”

  Yup. We’re going to get along great. I can’t wait for my first visit to welcome her to Rimtree. She’s going to love me when she gets to know me.

  “Now, if you’ll please pay attention to your class assignments.” Mrs. Cradle steps aside and the first grade nine teacher takes her place. I sit and bounce my boot over my crossed knee, jiggling in my spot, waiting for my class to be announced. I hadn’t noticed until just now, as I glance around looking for a distraction, but Nina Porter sits next to me, her face in a book. I recognize it immediately, read it this summer. How cool is that? We like the same kind of books.

  “Isn’t it awesome that Julia’s boyfriend ends up staying in town even after the accident?” Nina looks up, eyes huge, mouth gaping. She doesn’t say anything, just stares. “I love that part.”

  She swallows, closes the book, shoulders slumping. “Thanks for telling me the ending.”

  Why does it sound like she’s not really grateful? I shrug and look away, across the gym, meeting the new girl’s eyes this time. Her gaze darts from mine after a moment. She seems nervous for sure, like she’s looking for someone to help her. Well, I’m all in for that. And, to my excitement, as Mr. Kamphe announces my name, I see the new girl stand and join my homeroom group.

  Coolness. I’ll have to get to the front of the line so I can make sure I sit next to her.

  I hurry to catch up with her, making it to the first of the line with a few bumps and toe treads—hey, I apologize on my way by!—and make it to her side as she sinks into a seat. The metal creaks under her, the folded table top groaning as she flips it up. I take the seat next to her, breathless with excitement, and lean over.

  “Hi!” She turns, startled, her blue eyes meeting mine. They are huge and beautiful, rimmed with pale lashes she dashed with mascara, round cheeks flushed faintly pink as I go on. “I’m Kit.”

  She hesitates before smiling faintly. I like her lip gloss color. It has sparkles in it.

  “Tate,” she says in a quiet voice.

  “Awesome name,” I say. “Are you new to Rimtree?” I already know the answer, but icebreaker, yo.

  I love the word yo. Makes me feel gangsta. That’s an incredible word too, isn’t it? Gangsta. Yeah, I know it might not fit with my whole persona, but words are awesome.

  Just awesome.

  She looks away, blonde hair sweeping forward over her face to hide her expression. It hangs over the shoulder of her baggy pink t-shirt, brushes the thighs of her jeans. I’ve been wearing my hair in a bob for a year now and love it, but hers brings back the old wish I had light hair like my sister and Mom and not the inky black silky stuff my dad gave me. The moment of jealousy passes as I smooth my perfect bangs.

  “Yes,” Tate says. Everyone is settling and Mr. Kamphe stands at the front of the class with a list in his hand. No time to talk, I guess. I’ll make sure to follow her out after first period and chat her up. She seems quiet and obviously needs someone to show her around.

  Who’s more perfect for that role than me?

  My messenger bag settles beside my boots, a notebook, fresh and ready to accept new knowledge—as much as my eager mind—sits open in front of me as Mr. Kamphe reads off roll call. I almost laugh out loud. He knows all of us by sight, except maybe
Tate.

  Hmmm. I had him for ninth grade math and forgot how droning and boring his voice is. I wince at the unkindness and, to distract myself from his monotone, begin my first doodle of the year.

  A red dress. High heels. Helicopter to carry me away to a jet… I grin at the images as they evolve into a spaceship, a dragon in full flight, all brief lines and swirls surrounded by my favorite hearts and stars. An epic year. I can feel it.

  For me. For Kitalia Ore…

  ***

  I enter CIA headquarters and check my watch as I step through the metal detectors, flashing my badge at the bored security guards at the door. I’m almost late for my meeting with my bosses, but I need coffee before I go in. They are so boring—

  ***

  “Kitten MacLean?” Mr. Kamphe is looking right at me while the class titters with giggles. Just like every year. So silly, my fellow students. As for Mr. Kamphe, he sounds a little exasperated. He must be tired already, I guess, though it’s only first day.

  I beam at him and wave. My arm is going to get very tired today, I can tell. “Hi, Mr. Kamphe! Present.”

  Well. At least, for now…

  ***

  Chapter Five

  The Prime Minister of Great Britain shakes my hand, his still chill with cold sweat as his MI6 agents and local police surround us. I ignore the explosions from behind me where the attacking assassin’s van takes out half a city block, the semtex explosives chain reacting.

  Good thing I got him out in time.

  “The British government is in your debt, Ms. Ore,” he says, voice shaking. J.J. grins over his shoulder, as cocky and handsome as ever, though there’s dust in his hair and a smudge of ash on his cheek. Not like he was much help, getting himself knocked out like that. Leaving me to save the day, as usual.