#57 - Well
Marco
Myself, Jake, and my dad were sitting around our little kitchen table, scarfing pizza. Domino's, thank God. My dad's one attempt to cook homemade pizza had been an unmitigated disaster. I was eating, but I was also waiting for the hook.
My Spidey Sense was on full alert. You see, Jake having dinner with us wasn't unusual; it wasn't exactly normal, but it happened from time to time. But this time, he was here at my father's request. I glanced over at Jake and saw him eating without much gusto – he kept shooting glances at my dad. He knew something was up, too.
So it came as no great shock to either of us when my dad cleared his throat. "Well, I guess you're both wondering why I called this dinner together," he said. Jake shrugged noncommittally and took another bite of pizza, trying to act nonchalant. I followed his lead and shrugged, like I wasn't expecting something that could range from inconvenient to downright terrible.
My dad continued. "I'm going out of town to L.A. tomorrow for a three day conference. All expenses paid."
"…and you wanted to make sure we don't trash the house with a massive rager of a party?" I hopefully guessed.
He grinned. "You won't have the chance." He pulled an envelope out of his back pocket and slid it across the table to me. I opened it and pulled out tickets – three of them. There was an action shot of a soccer player sliding after the ball; I read the fine print and realized I was looking at L.A. Galaxy soccer tickets. "I got those as soon as I found out there would be a game while I was in town. Those are premium seats." I just continued to stare at the tickets, feeling my stomach sinking as I realized we were expected to go.
Jake broke the thickening silence. "Mr. P., I appreciate the offer, but I can't. I can't miss school tomorrow." Or the recon mission the day after, I thought. I looked at Jake, and I could literally see what he was thinking. We can probably make do without Marco. This will get his dad off of his back for a while, and that's worth being one man short on a reconnaissance mission.
I didn't like them going on sensitive missions without me. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm the most observant one out of the group. I'm the one who spots things the others miss. It's bad, but it could be worse, I thought.
At the same time, I was a little relieved, though. See, my dad had said we were going to be out of town for three days. Unless there was a Yeerk Pool in L.A., that was a pretty strong indicator that he wasn't a Controller. Not for sure – nothing is for sure, these days – but it was a pretty solid sign that he was still free.
My dad's grin came back. "Well, actually, you can, Jake-O. I set this up a few days ago – already talked to your dad, who's already talked to the school for you. You and Marco are both clear to go. You're welcome!" He laughed like he was doing us a huge favor. Which, in a perfect world, he would have been.
I could see Jake scrambling to think up another excuse, but my dad had caught him off guard. If he tried too hard and looked like he was trying to get out of something he should have been stoked about, it could cause some serious suspicion. We couldn't afford that, not if there was even the slightest chance my dad was a Controller. I stepped in before he could dig himself a hole. "Yeah, it'll be cool. We can reschedule that baseball game for next week, I'm sure the rest of the team won't mind."
Fortunately, Jake caught my drift and fell in line. He even managed a smile that didn't look too forced. "You're right. The baseball field isn't going anywhere, we can just play the game when we get back. Thanks, Mr. P.!"
My dad grinned happily and took another bite of pizza. We all did. My dad was really excited, and I realized that three days off wouldn't be bad for anybody. Even though he was happy, my dad threw another curveball…but one I'd brought on myself. "So when the hell did you and Jake join a baseball team? Where do you play? Who do you play?"
I steadied myself, dipped my bucket into the Well of Lies, and started slopping them all over my dad.