Chapter Five

I start the shower running and grab some clean clothes before I realize I'm out of fresh shorts. While I could always throw a pair of khaki shorts on, I'd rather something more comfortable. I toss what I have onto the counter in the bathroom and head downstairs again to fish out a pair from the clean laundry. It would make sense to bring the whole basket up with me so I can put the clothes away, but that can wait. It's not like Mom's complained about me not doing it yet. I'm on the way into the laundry room when I hear them talking.

"They still haven't found him?"

"No, but we will," my father assures. "I promise, Joan."

"You realize that he blames us, right?"

"I realize that, and I know the full implications of it as well. We'll find him."

My mom looks close to tears as my dad holds her arm and strokes his thumb across her cheek. I don't think I've never seen my mom cry before or even look like she was close to crying. It makes me really uneasy. If whatever is going on is bad enough to almost make Mom cry, I need to know what it is. I think I have a right to know what it is too.

"Find who?" I ask.

Both of their heads swivel toward me. Mom's eyes widen in shock while Dad's narrow slightly in curiosity. Or anger. Probably more anger. I did just eavesdrop on them.

"Mickey what are you doing down here? You're supposed to be showering."

She sounds accusing, but I just ignore her. There's something more important to talk about. This is my opportunity to tell them.

"You mean the truck guy?"

Both of them blink. Mom tips her head to the side and her eyebrows draw together. She has no idea what I'm talking about. From the look on Dad's face he doesn't either. I guess the truck guy did manage to keep himself hidden from them.

"Truck guy?" Dad repeats in confusion.

"Yeah, the truck guy. I've seen him around a lot."

Their eyes meet, and I know they're doing that silent talking thing they're so good at. Probably trying to figure out how to answer my question, so I wait. If they decide to answer my question. I hope that they do even if I'm pretty sure they won't. Finally they turn to look at me again.

"Come here, Mick," Dad tells me gently. "Sit down."

He motions to the couch and then pauses. His eyes sweep over me one more time, and he changes his mind. I'm a mess, and they don't like me sitting on the couch after practice when I'm still in my dirty clothes. Immediately he changes course and heads to the kitchen instead. Those chairs can't be destroyed as easily. Mom and I follow after him. She keeps watching me out of the corner of her eye, and it makes me nervous. I sit down and look up at both of them. Dad begins first.

"Tell me about this truck guy, son."

I shrug like it's no big deal even though I know it is, especially now that I can see how concerned they are about it. I'd wanted to tell them about him before and now I have the chance.

"I've seen him around school and our house. Watching me, I think. He was at lacrosse practice today."

"Have you seen his face?"

"Yeah. He's younger than you. Maybe forty? Brown hair. Nothing really specific about him. Except that he was kind of ugly."

Dad nods like this is exactly what he expected, even the ugly part. I'd added that in just to see what kind of response I would get. It isn't exactly amusing like I had hoped. I don't even get a smile. It kind of stinks when your teasing jokes don't get acknowledged. I don't have much time to be disappointed though.

"What kind of truck?" Mom presses.

"Silver pickup."

She frowns and looks at Dad. He doesn't look any happier with the answer than she does. In fact, he only looks more confused. Is the truck guy not the guy they were just talking about? My heart sinks a little bit.

"He could be using a different vehicle," Mom reasons, her eyes still on dad.

Instantly I feel lighter. She thinks it could be the same person.

"Maybe," Dad agrees. "It's worth checking into. Of course there would be a lot of silver pickups to go through. I'm not sure we could find the connection, even with a lot of eyes."

"I have the license plate number."

Their heads swing toward me again, even more surprised this time. It's like they totally forgot I was even sitting there. I grin and pull the now crumpled receipt out of my pocket. Dad plucks it from my fingers and looks down at my clear block writing. Neither of them say anything, so I continue.

"It's a DC plate."

"Mickey, you're a genius!" Dad exclaims. "I need to call this in."

He stands, ruffles my hair, and vanishes down the hallway. I turn to look at mom and find her smiling warmly at me. I can see the pride in her eyes and can't help looking down and rubbing the tip of my shoe against the floor. Sometimes I find it really hard to take her praise head on. She reaches out and strokes my hair, and I look up at her. Some of the pride in her eyes is now replaced with something else. Something soft and sad. Worry maybe? I guess that would make sense. Between my parents, Mom is the more protective one, so it would make sense that she's worried. Someone's basically been following me around and spying on me for days.

"When did you first notice?"

"At school on Wednesday."

She doesn't look like she likes that answer. Wednesday was kind of a long time ago. As I watch her face I see a tiny flash of terror emerge. It darts across her eyes and quickly disappears back into the bottomless pit that is my mother. If I saw it though, it means she's seriously scared. Beyond seriously scared. For me. Except I'm fine, and she has nothing to worry about.

"He didn't try to approach you?"

"No."

She nods and keeps brushing my hair out of my face. I can't tell what she's thinking. Probably that she's glad I'm safe and that this guy didn't use me to get to them. Or something. I really want to know who he is and why he was following me. Before I can ask her Dad walks back in, a wide smile on his face.

"I think the agency needs to start a file on McKenzie Campbell."

"He's thirteen, Arthur. Nobody ever gets a file until at least high school. Even when someone shows a lot of potential it's more likely college."

Dad laughs, his eyes totally lighting up. Mom is smiling at him in return like she thinks this whole thing is amusing too. Something big is going on here.

"I'd honestly be surprised if they didn't have one on him already."

I pause to think for a couple of seconds and try to process what I just heard. The agency might be starting some kind of file I me because I have some kind of potential, probably related to what has happened the last few days. The agency? So they do work for the government somehow! Nowhere else is referred to as the agency. I try to suppress my smile. I am totally right about them. They've never spoken openly about it before or been this careless. Maybe they didn't want to hide it anymore. Except, they were talking about it like I already knew. So they hadn't believed they'd fooled me! They'd known that I knew and just hadn't mentioned it.

Their eyes flicker to me and dance with light. I grin at both of them and decide to take a bit of a chance. They are being a little bit more open now after all.

"So you really are secret agents, aren't you?"

Their answers come together, word for word, in a perfect chorus. How the heck do they do that?

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

I can't help grinning even wider. The answer is total crap. They know it, and I know it. Well, fine. I already know the truth, and I can keep a secret.

Author's Note - So I'm tempted to write another little fic like this from Mickey's point of view. Maybe a Mickey, Joan thing where Mickey happens to be with Joan at the wrong time and finds out first hand what his mom's job is like. I don't know.