"Something like that," Francine went on calmly. "I don't know everything about what he does, but it's really secret, and really dangerous. I can't tell anybody about it. I can't even talk to my dad about it unless he brings it up. And now that you're me, you'll have to keep it a secret as well."
"I can't believe this." Sue Ellen shook her head in astonishment. "This is just too crazy to believe. First I get stuck in your body, now you tell me that your dad's a spy! What'll you tell me next? That you're all aliens?" Her voice rose in pitch until it was audible over the pounding rock music.
"If I were an alien, you would have known by now," Francine pointed out.
"Okay." Sue Ellen took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. "Suppose I believe you. What does that have to do with the fact that you...I don't really have HIV?"
"After I got hurt in the plane crash, my dad became obsessed with protecting me," Francine explained. "His idea was to pretend that I had HIV, then full-blown AIDS, then to fake my death, and give me a new identity. He thought it would be convincing, because of the high AIDS rate in that part of Africa, and the fact that I got blood transfusions."
"Who is he trying to protect you from?" asked Sue Ellen with fear in her voice.
"I'm not really sure. Foreign agents, or terrorists, or something. All I know is that they're very dangerous. The only reason they haven't killed us is because they don't know my dad's real identity."
Sue Ellen sighed with exasperation. "I don't believe a word of it," she muttered.
"I haven't told you the good part," Francine continued. "He's been training me to become an agent. That's why I do so much martial arts."
Upon hearing that, Sue Ellen angrily jumped to her feet, walked over to Catherine's blaring stereo, and turned it off. She cast a dirty glance at Francine as she opened the bedroom door and marched out. "Wait!" Francine called after her, but the girl had already exited through the door of the apartment.
As Francine stood in the doorway watching the indignant Sue Ellen walk down the stairs, she could hear Mrs. Frensky speaking on the telephone with someone: "That's right, Daisy. She came in here and told Francine that she didn't have HIV. I don't know what else she said. She went into Francine's bedroom and turned the music up really loud. I guess they were talking about secret crushes or something."
Meanwhile, Sue Ellen was pondering the things that Francine had told her, and still found them impossible to accept. She had heard of secret agents before--people who spent their lives alone, wandering incognito among the unsuspecting masses, constantly placing themselves in mortal danger. The man who lived down the street, whose daughter had been her friend at school, whose daughter she now was, could not, couldnot be a secret agent, as unusual as his mannerisms might be. He just wasn't the type.
As she walked along the street with her hands in her coat pockets, she tried her best to explain away Francine's story. It could be a fairy tale, or some sort of prank...but if it were true, then it would explain why she didn't have HIV after all, and why her new parents were so evasive when she questioned them. If it were true, then she had to get out of it somehow. She had been raised the daughter of a garbage man...she was now the daughter of a spy, and would be expected to follow in his footsteps...she couldn't do it...she didn't want to...
Her mind was still troubled as she entered the Armstrong house and made ready to take off her coat. Glancing toward the living room, she saw that her parents were seated together on the couch, staring at her with the type of intensely stern expressions that could peel paint from walls. She froze. She could tell there was a serious problem.
"After you get your coat off, you and I need to have a little talk," Mr. Armstrong told her. "In your bedroom."
Wondering what she had done wrong, Sue Ellen nervously pulled off her coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair. She then shuffled into her bedroom and sat down on her bed. She had no idea what she was about to face, but she supposed it had something to do with her HIV test or Francine's spy rubbish.
A minute later her father entered the room and closed the door. His face was emotionless, but Sue Ellen could tell that he was worried about something. He held a small black object in his hand; it vaguely resembled the remote control which he carried on his keychain and used to lock and unlock the car. Pointing the object in the direction of the bookshelf, he pressed a button, and the object (which Sue Ellen guessed was an electronic device) began to emit a faint, high-pitched whine. A red light on top of it began to blink rapidly. Mr. Armstrong began to slowly and carefully swivel, pointing the device in an arc around the room.
Sue Ellen decided it might be a good time to try to obtain information that would prove or disprove Francine's claims. "Does this have something to do with your CIA job?" she asked quietly. Her father placed a finger over his mouth, as if warning her not to speak.
However, Sue Ellen had decided that she would no longer put up with his hush-hush attitude. "I've been thinking, Dad," she said, holding her hands between her knees. "I think it's cool that you're a spy and all, but I don't think that's the life for me. I just want to be a normal kid."
Mr. Armstrong waved his fingers over his lips, as if to say, "zip it". He didn't say a word, but continued to move his feet in a circle and rotate, holding the device rigidly in his outstretched arm.
Suddenly, as he was facing the foot of Sue Ellen's bed, the device started to beep loudly. His expression changed, and she could tell that he was afraid. He slowly stepped closer to her, and the beeping grew louder. Then he bent his knees onto the floor and began to feel along the bottom of the footboard with the hand that wasn't holding the device. Sue Ellen swung her legs out of the way as her father searched intently. The beeping became louder and louder.
He then latched onto something with his fingers. As he withdrew his hand, she perceived that he was holding a tiny object. A tiny, round object covered with a latticework of metal wires. She wasn't sure, but it looked like some sort of microphone.
(Next: The shocking final chapter!)
