Disclaimer: I own nothing except my soul, and I'm not even sure about that.
Chapter 3
At precisely 6:30am Vanessa rang Joe's doorbell. Impatiently, she tapped her foot. It was just like Joe to be late on an important day. Vanessa rang the doorbell insistently until finally Gertrude threw the door open in exasperation.
Upon seeing Vanessa Gertrude rolled her eyes. Gertrude turned so that she was facing the inside of the house. "JOE YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS HERE!" She turned back to a blushing Vanessa, "Come in, that lazy bum will be right down in a minute."
Vanessa walked into the familiar house and made a beeline for the couch. Gertrude on the other hand, went up to her bedroom. Vanessa assumed Gertrude was going to sleep; she had looked tired to Vanessa. Gertrude had bags under her eyes, something Vanessa never expected to see on the older woman.
Joe came running down the stairs, backpack in one hand, shoes in the other, and his house keys hanging from his mouth. "Msry, herg."
Vanessa got up and took the keys out of Joe's mouth. "What?"
"Sorry."
"No it's alright," Vanessa said,"I'm used to you not being on time."
Joe grinned sheepishly, "I meant about my aunt calling you my girlfriend."
Gertrude had obviously overheard. "YOU TWO SPEND MORE TIME TOGETHER NOW THAN WHEN YOU WERE DATING!"
Both of the teenagers grinned and began to walk out to Vanessa's car, a candy apple red, four-door pickup.
"It's only because I don't have to worry about you bringing down my reputation anymore," Vanessa assured Joe.
"Funny Vanessa," Joe ground out. He smiled, "But now I don't have to worry about you taking away from my Don Juan thing."
By then they had reached the truck and had gotten in. Vanessa started up the engine and started driving.
"Vanessa?" Joe questioned, "You do realize the school is the other way don't you?"
Vanessa looked at Joe as if that was the dumbest statement she had ever heard, "Yeah, but I'm picking someone up."
Joe frowned, "Who?"
"The new girl, Sweet Rodriguez." Vanessa said as she stopped the truck.
Joe shut up. He looked out the window and realized they had only traveled half a block. In front of his eyes he saw a two story, blue house. "Is this it?"
"Yup, stay here, I'll go get her." Vanessa set the parking brake before jumping out of the truck to get Sweet.
As he waited, Joe noticed something different about Sweet's house, it had a huge front yard. Although it was not really important Joe couldn't help but wonder why none of the other houses in the area had the same football field-looking front yard. Joe stopped staring at the yard and focused his eyes on something else, Sweet. He smiled and got out of the car. He put on his most charming, womanizing smile and met Vanessa and Sweet when they reached the truck.
"Hello," he grinned, taking Sweet's right hand and kissing it, "How are you?"
Most girls felt flustered when he did this, even Vanessa, so when the two girls broke out it laughter Joe was surprised. "What?"
Sweet bit her lip in a way Joe thought only made her look cuter, "Vanessa warned me you would do that."
Vanessa, still gasping for air, apologized, "I'm sorry Don Juan, didn't mean to stunt your game but give the girl a break, she's new. She doesn't need a cute little blonde scaring her off."
Joe smiled, "Cute?"
Vanessa ignored him and guided Sweet to the truck. "Sweet take shotgun, Joe can sit in the back. Maybe some time alone will calm those hormones."
Sweet laughed. Joe felt his ears burning; sometimes Vanessa could be cruel.
* * *
"Nancy!" exclaimed Michael at 3am.
Nancy was sitting in a dull jail cell wearing the same thing she had been wearing the night before. She looked up to see her boyfriend on the other side of the prison bars with his hands on the bars. She was surprised. "I called George, why didn't she come?"
"She didn't have any transportation so she called me. Why didn't you just call me yourself?"
Nancy slowly walked over to the bars, she placed her hands over his and blushed, "I didn't want you to see me in prison." At Michael's expression she continued, "Yeah pretty stupid huh?" and looked down towards the floor.
Michael smiled, "No I think it's kind of, well, thoughtful."
Nancy looked back up and smiled back.
"So why exactly are you in here? George didn't have the time to tell me."
"I'll tell you in the car," she promised.
Michael nodded, "Let's get you out of here."
* * *
Three hours of sleep later
"Nancy!" Bess exclaimed, running into Nancy's dorm room, waking Nancy and her roommate Kara in the process. "I heard all about you getting arrested at the sorority house! Are you okay? What did you do?" Bess sat at the foot of Nancy's bed.
"Nancy YOU were arrested?" Nancy's roommate asked.
Nancy blinked, trying to adjust to the light, "Yes." She pulled the covers over her head.
Unfortunately Bess was not willing to let the subject drop. She pulled the covers off of Nancy's head, "What happened?"
Nancy blew a strand of hair out of her face, "Well after I convinced Gilbert I was Regis undercover-"
"What?" Bess looked confused.
"Long story," Nancy growled.
"Well what happened?" prodded Nancy's roomate, now wide awake, sitting up in bed, listening.
Nancy rolled her blue eyes and filled them in on how she had ended up on the windowsill. She carefully left out the part about the mysterious conversation. "I look down and there's this group of people thinking I'm ready to commit suicide. While I climbed onto the roof to crawl down using the gutter someone called 911 to report a girl attempting to commit suicide." Nancy saw that she had the apt attention of the two girls in the room. "So I finally get to the front of the house, after a little incident with an uptight cheerleader, and there's a cop car and a fire truck."
"Already?" Bess asked.
"Yes, they were quick. Anyway, I actually got picked up and taken to the fire truck to check for bruises, or cuts, or whatever." Her roommate giggled. "Then they arrested me! Apparently suicide, or the attempt of, is illegal in many states including this one!"
Bess' eyes went wide, her hands flew to her mouth, "I'm so sorry Nancy, it's my fault."
"Oh no," Nancy replied, "It doesn't end there."
"What!?"
Nancy glared at Bess, "Well, after I was questioned at the police station for a million hours I was put in a holding cell until someone could bail me out."
"That's horrible, I can't bel-"
Nancy held out a hand to stop her friend from saying more, "But before I was put in the holding cell they assigned me to an on campus psychologist to 'make sure I could overcome my obvious mental problems' and to 'make sure I could overcome whatever triggered my anti-social behavior.' Isn't that wonderful?"
Nancy's roommate was laughing hard by this time. Between spurts of laughter she managed a, "Nancy...I know....that must have...been horrible....but that's hilarious."
"Glad you think so Kara."
Bess looked horrified, "Nance, I didn't know that-"
"Your horrible attempt at matchmaking could end so disastrously?"
Bess looked down sheepishly, "How did you know?"
"Bess, I'm a journalist. I'm the master at detecting false motives and schemes."
"What matchmaking?" Kara questioned.
"Bess tried to set me up with Gilbert something-or-other, a football player."
Kara laughed.
Nancy's friend looked crestfallen. "I thought he would be a great match for you."
"Why?" Nancy asked horrified, "Because of his stupidity? Gullibility?"
"Extra hair?" Kara put in.
Bess stood up, "Sorry for trying to help a friend out. I will never do it again." She looked angry.
Despite everything, Nancy found herself grinning, "Bess I like that you are always thinking about your closest friends but I already have a boyfriend."
"But he's arrogant, annoying, and all that. Even you didn't like him when you met him!"
"You have to get to know him."
"Yeah whatever," Bess smiled, "Hey want to go shopping today?"
"Sorry no can do."
"Why not? You don't have any classes today."
"I have my first appointment with my psychologist, Rita Van Buren, in a few hours."
* * *
Back in Bayport
The senior class had everything planned; the senior picture was being taken in the bleachers surrounding the football field. It should take all of first period, then the seniors would go back into the school to watch the Juniors, Sophmores, and Freshmen fall victim to the senior prank.
Biff fidgeted as the seniors waited patiently in the bleachers.
"Stop fidgeting," whispered Joe, "or the administration is going to know that we are up to something." Joe sat calmly beside Biff, at ease in the calm spring weather. "Think of something to calm yourself down. Like....going to college."
Biff looked horrified.
"Sorry," Joe apologized hurriedly, "How about girls?"
His large friend calmed down, "Whatever happened to Mariah and her boyfriend?"
"Sorry," Joe replied, "they patched things up after she cheated on him."
"Vanessa's available," Biff said thoughtfully. At Joe's glare he continued, "But of course I could NEVER be interested in her."
"Of course not," Joe relaxed.
"Well how bout that cutie I saw you two get out of the truck with?"
"Taken."
"By who!?" exclaimed Biff, "She has only been here for a few weeks!"
"Me," Joe answered calmly.
"You?" Biff asked incredulously. "You've only known her for, what, less than twenty four hours? How could she possibly be yours?"
"Trust me my friend, by the end of this week she will be head over heels for me."
Biff let out a laugh, "You get more and more arrogant every year. What makes you think she's interested in you?"
Joe grinned, his blue eyes sparkling, "I just know."
A voice piped up behind Joe, "Are you talking about Sweet?"
Joe and Biff turned to see Gary sitting behind them.
"Yeah," Biff answered cautiously.
"I wouldn't try anything with her," advised Gary.
"Why not?" questioned Joe. "What do you know?"
"Well she's from Las Angeles."
Joe shrugged, "Yeah so?"
"You don't understand, people from Los Angeles are crazy."
Biff replied sarcastically, "And us New Yorkers are just the most sane people in the world."
Gary shook his head. "I heard Sweet was in the mental hospital for years and the only reason they let her out is cuz she was a danger to the other patients."
"Who told you that?" Joe asked.
"Vanessa."
"And you believed her?" Biff asked.
"You should see the inside of her locker, it's lined in black cloth, and there are devil worship symbols everywhere."
Joe frowned, "Not that I don't believe you Gary, but I think I'll find out just how crazy she is for myself."
"Alright, don't ever say I didn't try to warn you." With that Gary walked off to the other side of the bleachers.
"Can you believe that guy?" Joe asked Biff.
"How gullible can he get? I mean, come on, trusting Vanessa. Everyone knows that girl has a weird sense of humor." Biff paused, "I'll bet you I can get her to go out with me a lot faster than you could get her to go out with you."
Joe raised an eyebrow, "Care to place money on that?"
* * *
"Nancy," the psychologist said calmly, "tell me about your childhood." The woman twirled a pen in one hand while gazing at a notebook over the top of her glasses.
Nancy sat in a leather chair opposite her psychologist. She glared at the woman across the oak desk. When she had walked into the office she already knew that she would not like anything about Rita Van Buren. First of all, Rita was relatively young, about thrity five, and pretty. Rita Van Buren had light blonde hair that fell gently around her face and the deepest green eyes Nancy had ever seen on anyone. Nancy knew that she shouldn't age discriminate but she couldn't help it. How could anyone so young understand the human mind thoroughly enough to be a psychologist?
Second strike, the woman intimidated Nancy a little. The young detective was not used to being intimidated by anyone, especially not some one she hardly knew. Third strike, the psychologist's office. The moment Nancy had stepped in she already knew what the psychologist would be like. People can be evaluated by their surroundings and Van Buren's surroundings were filled with diplomas, books, leather and oak furniture, and from what Nancy could see, memorabilia from Rita's childhood. Nancy believed Rita to be a self absorbed snob.
"Nancy tell me about your childhood," Rita Van Buren repeated, looking over her glasses at Nancy, "Anything that you remember vividly."
"Well from what I remember, vividly, I was...a child."
Rita didn't even register annoyance at Nancy's blatant rudeness. "What was your mother like?"
Nancy crossed her arms and continued to glare, "Female."
"Your father."
"Well," Nancy scrunched up her face, "from what I remember, he was male."
Again Rita registered no annoyance. "Did you have friends?"
"Yes."
"Tell me about them."
"Well, they were wonderful," Nancy smiled, "every day we would go to this lake near our houses and we would play this revolutionary new game, hide and seek. Of course they always had an easy time hiding what with being inhumanly short and all."
Rita looked at Nancy questioningly.
"Well they were Smurfs."
Nancy observed the psychologist. Rita placed the notebook on the desk and took of her glasses. She rubbed her eyes, "Nancy, why are you here?"
"You mean on earth?" She played stupid.
"Here in my office."
"I was forced to come."
"You don't want to get help?"
"For what?" Nancy snapped, "I'm not crazy, I didn't try to kill myself, I'm mentally stable."
To the surprise of Nancy, Rita smiled. "I know that, but you have a lot of issues to work through."
"Issues?" Nancy asked expressionless.
Rita leaned forward, both elbows on the desk. "You have been in here for half an hour and you have exhibited nothing but hostility. Why is that?"
"I am NOT hostile, just mad that I was sent here."
"Nancy I'm going to need to see you at least once a week for the rest of the school year."
Nancy frowned, "Because you believe I'm hostile?"
"Trust me Nancy, you'll find yourself turning into a happy person."
"I AM happy person."
"That's what you choose to believe."
* * *
The senior class stood in safe areas of the school's hallways. These were the only spots they would be safe from the oncoming commotion.
Joe sat pensively on the bottom step of a staircase. Beside him sat Bif, grinnign from ear to ear.
BRRING! First period was over.
The seniors watched, entertained as the underclassmen walked out of their first period classes, setting off the traps as they opened the doors. Out of nowhere came
pies flying through the air, not stopping until they hit someone. Soda came squirting out of carefully concealed water guns, landing on the underclassmen, becoming sticky as it dried. The last and best wave of torture came in the form of water balloons filled with food coloring. By the end of the attack the underclassmen were a number of colors, covered in cream, and sticky. The seniors could do nothing but laugh in their "safe" zones as the underclassmen struggled to understand what had just happened.
* * *
Frank sat in his Western Philosophy class, afraid that he might fall asleep. After the party the night before, he had attempted to finish his paper but the wheels just weren't turning. After hours of trying to write anything that made any kind of sense at all, Frank gave up. He went to sleep at three in the morning, only to have to wake up at seven to get to his first class. Now he listened to his teacher, Mr. Jaswall, drone on about man's purpose on earth.
"Mr. Hardy, what is your opinion." Boomed his teacher's voice.
*Damn it*
Frank knew that the teacher was expecting something interesting. Mr. Jaswall always wanted something new, innovative. "Man was put here on earth for the sole purpose of creating plastic."
Frank heard some snickers from the rest of the class. Mr. Jaswall, on the other hand, was interested.
"Care to elaborate?"
"Well think about it, Mother Nature can't make plastic all on its own. Man was put her to make the plastic that the earth craves."
"And why does the earth want this plastic? Especially when the making of things like that help to deplete the ozone layer."
Frank hadn't thought about that. He frowned then said, "Well with the ozone layer depleted the sun would ultimately kill off all creatures, we just aren't strong enough to handle those kinds of UV rays."
"Why would the earth want that?"
"Well how would you like the feeling of trillions of little creatures tearing you apart, whether it's from eating all the grass or digging holes in you."
More snickers.
"Good job Mr. Hardy! With a mind like that you will go far!"
*Whew*
Frank put his head down on his desk, confident that the teacher would not call on him for anything else, and went to sleep. He didn't wake up until he heard the movement of his classmates, class was over.
Frank picked up his Philosophy book and attempted to leave the room. His teacher stopped him at the door.
"Mr. Hardy I have something to discuss with you," His eyes pierced Frank's, "I understand your father is a private detective."
Frank shifted his weight from one leg to the other, nervously. He looked around; he did not want people to know that his father was a detective. Fortunately, he was the only student left in the room.
"Don't worry Mr. Hardy, I wont let anyone know."
"Alright," Frank said regaining composure, "what exactly do you need."
"I need someone to help me find the people that are trying to kill me."
At that moment Frank couldn't help but feel sympathy for the man. He could see the fear embedded in his teacher's eyes. "Why would anyone want to kill you?"
Mr. Jaswall looked around nervously, "It might seem strange but I am worth millions of dollars."
"No offense Mr. Jaswall but how is that possible? I know University professors are paid a hell of a lot better than high school teachers but..."
"It was all inherited."
"Well who would want to kill you?" Frank asked his meek teacher, curiously.
"Family members, angry because they didn't inherit the money, lawyers, who knows?"
"How do you know someone wants you killed?"
"Well at first I thought I was being paranoid, I thought it was all in my head. But this morning I was driving to the campus and," Mr Jaswall looked around as if he was making sure no one was listening, "I realized my brakes weren't working as well as they should have been. I got to the university, parked my car and checked to see what was wrong. Mr. Hardy believe me when I say that I was surprised to see my brake line cut through halfway."
Frank frowned, "Are you sure that the brakes weren't just messed up. Usually when someone is trying to kill someone else by sabotaging brakes they cut through them all the way."
Mr. Jaswall grabbed Frank's arm, "Come look for yourself," he urged. With that he took off with Frank following.
Outside in the teacher parking lot Frank looked under his teacher's car. He came out from under the car with a frown, "That's odd, it was definitely cut on purpose. But why only halfway?"
"I don't know," Mr Jaswall said nervously. "So do you think your father could help me?"
Frank stood up, "What about the local police?"
"They never help, they are so busy trying to solve numerous crimes at the same time that they don't have the energy to focus all of their energy on one case."
"True." Frank looked at his teacher, "but I can't promise that my father will help. He is usually swamped with work." At his teacher's fallen face he continued, "But I think I can help you."
"You?"
"I have solved many cases as well, I can help you with this one."
Mr. Jaswall looked puzzled, "But you're only 20 years old, if that!"
"19 actually, but I really can help. Just ask the NYPD or Bayport PD about Frank Hardy and you'll be surprised."
"So..can you start helping me right away?"
"Yes."
* * *
"You told him WHAT?" Kimberly Randle asked her boyfriend.
Frank put down his Pepsi, the two were eating lunch at a local Taco Bell. "That I would help him."
Kimberly knew all about Frank's past as a detective but was not at all pleased, "You could get hurt."
Frank reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. "Kimberly, I have taken on more dangerous cases. Trust me, I will be fine."
The woman looked into Frank's eyes and sighed, "I believe you, I just can't stand to think about you in any kind of trouble."
Frank smiled, "I know. And to tell you the truth I'm planning on using this for my Journalism paper."
"What happened to the ever riveting 'NYU-The truth behind the food'?" Kimberly teased.
"It just wasn't working for me, this is a hell of a lot more interesting. It might even help me get on the editorial board of the school paper."
"Slow down Mister, you still have to beat me to get that spot," Kimberly took a large bite of her taco.
Frank raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of his Pepsi. "Is that a challenge I smell?"
His girlfriend laughed then sobered up as she asked, "Who is Callie Shaw?"
Frank looked up surprised, "How do you know about her?"
"Come on, I'm a journalist. It's my job to know what's going on."
"She's my ex-girlfriend."
"Hmmm," Kimberly tapped her chin, "that would explain the animosity she feels towards you."
"You met her!" Frank exclaimed surprised.
"Not exactly. She was in my Russian literature class this morning. She was with some friend of hers, another journalism major." Frank nodded. "Well her friend asked her about you and she had some interesting things to say about you."
"Really?" Frank asked, calmly sipping his Pepsi. "Like what?"
"Well I belive it went like this 'Frank is such a bastard! I wish he would just disapear or something. I want to kick him in the balls!'"
Frank laughed, "That sounds like her."
"You must have picked a really crappy way to break up with her if she feels that way about you."
"See that's the thing," Frank looked confused, "she broke up with me."
Kimberly smiled, "Maybe she isn't over you yet. I know I wouldn't be."
Frank looked at her and smiled, "Love to hear you say that honey cuz I would take forever to get over you too."
"Aw, that makes me want to brake up right now!"
Frank laughed, Kimberly's sense of humor was twisted.
"Stop, you two are too mushy for me."
Frank and Kimberly looked up to see Chet Morton towering over them.
"Chet!" Frank exclaimed, standing up to hug his friend, "When did you get into town? And how did you know I was here?"
"I got into the city just an hour ago. I got hungry and ended up here. I didn't even know I would run into you!"
"That's great!" exclaimed Frank. Then remembering Kimberly he said, "Chet this is my girlfriend Kimberly."
Kimberly shook Chet's hand, "Pleased to meet you, Frank told me all about you."
Chet grinned sheepishly, "Then I guess you know all about my appetite."
Kimberly laughed, "'Fraid so. But don't worry I don't hold it against you. I love food too."
Chet looked at Frank, "You got a good one Frank."
Kimberly laughed as Chet excused himself to buy some food.
"I like your friend," Kimberly said.
"I knew you would. Wait until you meet my brother."
"Is he interesting?"
"Trust me, he is a real character."
* * *
"Joe! Why is there a banana peel on your head?!" Biff exclaimed.
Joe was seated in his physics class when he heard his friend's booming voice. He looked up to see the amused gazes of his classmates. "Waiting for class to start."
Biff rolled his eyes as he took a seat next to Joe. "Seriously Joe, why is there a banana peel on your head?"
"It brings out the color of my eyes."
"Fine if you are not going to tell me..."
BRRING! Class started.
"Okay class, time for a pop quiz."
The whole class let out a collective groan at Mrs. Taylor's announcement.
Joe groaned when he looked at the first couple of problems. He hadn't studied for his physics class for weeks. Luckily it was a short three question quiz so the pain of taking the quiz was short lived. When it was all over and done with there was nothing for the class to do but turn it in. By the looks of his classmates, Joe could tell that the rest of the class was expecting to fail as well.
He perked up, however, when he saw the door open and Sweet walk through it. He wondered what she was doing in the classroom.
"Class," Mrs. Taylor announced, "we have a new student, Sweet Rodriguez."
"Hey Sweet!" called some of the students.
"Don't worry they don't bite as long as they're not provoked," Mrs. Taylor reassured Sweet as she walked to the back of the room to take a seat.
Mrs. Taylor didn't need to worry about Sweet. Dressed in black jeans, black t-shirt, and black duster along with many gothic accessories, Sweet looked intimidating. All the same, Biff and Joe grinned when Sweet took a seat behind them.
* * *
"So how was your therapy session hon?" Michael knew as soon as he asked the question that it was the wrong thing to do. He was sitting on his couch with Nancy cuddled up next to him. They had been enjoying watching discussing ideas for Headlines when he snuck the question in. He felt Nancy tense up.
"It went okay."
"Okay? That means you didn't like it."
"The crazy woman wants to see me every week. She thinks I'm overly hostile and unhappy."
Michael stroked the side of Nancy's face. "I'm sure she didn't mean to offend. And I'm sure that after one more session she will realize that you don't need therapy."
Nancy looked up into Michael's eyes, "You think so?"
"I'm sure." He leaned in and kissed her passionately.
"Could you two please do that in private?"
Michael had forgotten that his roommate and best friend Gus was home. Nancy blushed, she never was comfortable with public displays of affection.
Gus noticed Nancy's blush, "I'm just kidding Nancy. I'm leaving in a few minutes anyway."
"Good," Michael said.
Gus feigned sadness, "You mean I'm not wanted here? Michael I thought I was your best friend."
Michael pointed to the front door, "Leave."
"Alright, no need to get hostile."
Michael watched his friend leave the apartment. "Sorry about that."
"It's okay," Nancy replied. Her eyes brightened, "I have a great idea for an episode of Headlines." She quickly filled Michael in on the conversation she had overheard the night before.
"That's definitely something to look into!" Michael replied excitedly, "But where should we look first?"
Nancy jumped off of the couch. "Come on, I've got some ideas."
* * *
Three hours later Nancy and Michael were searching every diner in the area of Wilder University.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Michael asked.
Nancy, behind the wheel of her blue Mustang, answered, "We have no other leads."
"Alright. But even if we do find someone that remembers three people eating together, who's to say that they are the same three people we are looking for?"
"We'll just think up another way to figure this out."
Michael grinned, "You know, this all seems second nature to you."
"Yeah, so, we're journalists."
"But it's like you've been doing this for years or something."
Nancy shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "How do you mean."
"It's like you were a detective in another life, you never let anything phase you."
Nancy looked at her boyfriend, "Well you don't do badly yourself."
Michael nodded, "Thank you but that comes from having a cop as a father."
Nancy parked her car in a diner parking lot. "Here we are, another diner."
* * *
Ten minutes later Michael and Nancy walked out of the diner covered in chocolate milkshakes.
Turning to Nancy, Michael said, "That is the last time I try to question a half deaf old woman."
She simply nodded her agreement.
* * *
Sweet Rodriguez walked slowly up the path to her house. She noticed a green truck parked in her driveway. Great, The colonel home.
She unwillingly forced her legs to walk to her front door. She unlocked the door, went inside and waited patiently for her dad to yell at her. Her father was sitting in the living room and sure enough he started yelling at her the minute he heard the door close.
"Where have you been? School got out an hour ago!"
Sweet rolled her eyes, "Out with friends Colonel."
"Front and center."
This is ridiculous. Why do I have to have a father in the air force?
She walked into the living room and stood in front of the couch. Anyone who saw her with her father at that moment would never have thought that the two were related. Mr. Rodriguez was Mexican, with light skin. His daughter, although mixed, looked more black than Hispanic.
"Why didn't you call me to let me know where you were?"
"What is the big deal? I just hung out with some new friends after school. I thought you wanted me to be more social. Wasn't it you that called me anti-social?"
The colonel stood up, "Don't mouth off to me."
"I'm not-" Sweet stopped herself not wanting to get in any more trouble than she already was in.
"I expect you to be disciplined and responsible, you are 17, soon to be 18, I would have thought that some of the good old Rodriguez genes would have rubbed off on you by now."
Sweet frowned, "What's my punishment?"
"You are coming with me to the Base tomorrow after school to train."
His daughter didn't dare roll her eyes for fear that he should intensify her punishment. "Ay, sir."
"Dismissed."
Sweet rushed up the stairs to her room, the only place she could be at peace. Her room was decorated the way she wanted it to be, it was the only place in her house that was not completely influenced by her father's militant ways. It was the typical teenage room, band posters everywhere, Cd's, a boombox, that sort of thing. Sweet sat on her well made queen size bed and picked up the phone on the nightstand next to it. Quickly she dialed Vanessa's number.
"Hello?"
"Is Vanessa there?"
"Yes, who is this?"
"Sweet."
"What's your real name?"
"It's Sweet."
"Alright honey, I know how you teenagers are about having cool nicknames."
"No really, it's Sweet."
The person on the other end laughed, "Yeah sure, I'll get Vanessa."
That wasn't the first time that had happened to Sweet. Most people found it hard to believe that anyone would name their child Sweet.
"Hi Sweet!"
"Hi Vanessa. What's up?"
"Nothing really, just trying to avoid Joe and Biff?"
"Why?" Sweet questioned, laying down on her bed, "They're both cute."
"Ha!" Vanessa exclaimed, "Not when you've known them as long as I have."
"So why are you avoiding them?"
"Because they're asking question after question about you."
Sweet smiled, "Are you saying that there is something wrong with me?"
Vanessa sensed the teasing tone in Sweet's voice. "Actually it's alarming because I know they have a bet going on."
"A bet."
"Yeah, who can get the new girl to fall for them first."
Sweet laughed, "We should play with their minds a little."
"Just what I was thinking." After a pause Vanessa added, "But they really do seem taken with you."
"Ah well, let them learn a lesson."
"Yeah."
"Um, Vanessa."
"Yes?"
"What's this I hear about being a former mental hospital patient?"
* * *
Agent Griswald walked into his office. On his desk was a letter. Picking it up he found that it was unmarked. Not really interested he opened the letter and read one typed line:
Agent, the girl is ours.
Agent Griswald's eyes widened. He reached for the phone and quickly dialed his friend's phone number.
"Hello?"
"Fenton, it's happening."