Agent 690 -
There’s something nice about San Francisco in middle of the morning when everyone else is stuck behind a desk in school or an office.
For one, there’s less people on the streets, and no lines when I have a sudden urge for Chinese for the breakfast I skipped earlier.
And for another, you actually can enjoy the world around you, which never happens when the streets are overflowing with loud people.
I glanced across the street before jaywalking it. I scooped up some noodles with my chopsticks and turned the corner. The wind that rolled across the bay and hit me like a wave, but I had leaned into it so I didn’t loose my balance.
Music washed through my headphones as I starred out across the Golden Gate Bridge and the bay. I never got why the called it that, the bridge was red, not gold.
I moved on and glanced around to see that I was close to the Turner Military School. My school.
I hate my school.
I rolled my eyes as I saw the platoons of boys marching across the grounds, their clothes perfectly clean, their backs strait, all walking in unison, all blank expressions. I hate it, I hate the uniform, I hate the way they take away everything that made you, you. I hate how they make you like a clone, each one just the same as the other.
So this might explain why I decided to play hooky today, and just about everyday that I can get away with it. And I can get away with it a lot since I’ve got this uncanny ability to sneak out when the teacher’s aren’t looking, or when the guards are switching out. Or I hack into the control system and have everyone evacuate for a day or two. I’m pretty good at finding an exit.
As the day went on, I spent it walking around town listening to music and picking up a few new records from my all time favorite music store, along with a comic book.
I was enjoying Skillrex and my book on a park bench when some random woman sat down next to me.
Now this was a public bench, in a public place, so it wasn’t illegal to sit with someone. But usually, the unsaid rule is that you actually have to know the person, or you find another empty one.
But apparently this woman didn’t know that.
I turned my music up louder and flipped the page. Content to ignore her.
Until she tried talking to me. What is with people and trying to talk to you when you have headphones in? Don’t they know you can’t hear them? Apparently not.
“Scout Turner.”
My insides jumped as she said my name. I pulled my headphones out and studied her. She had red, short hair, green eyes, and looked like a biker chick.
“Do I know you?” I asked, making sure my tone stated that I was annoyed.
“No,” She stated calmly, looking out at the people filing past on their way home. “But you will…Eventually.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes really. And you’re going to want to listen to what I have to say and not tune me out got it?”
This time she actually looked at me.
“And why is that?”
“Because if you don’t, a record of every hack, every code red you’ve blown, every day you’ve skipped will land on the desk of the principle of Turner Military School, and you and I both know your father would not be happy to see that file now would he?”
I tried to hide my clenched fists, but she saw my clenched jaw.
“So are you going to listen now?”
“Like I have much of a choice.” I retorted. The women went on as if I hadn’t spoken.
“I work for an agency that needs your help -”
“I’m sixteen, what the heck could it want from me?”
“You’d be surprised what we could do with someone with your skill sets.”
“What skill sets are you talking about?” I asked, but she avoided the question.
“If you want to know more then meet me at Golden Gate Park on the baseball fields tomorrow at three o’clock.”
“And if I don’t come?”
“Then that file will end up on your father’s desk. Be careful kid.”
She then rose and left me in the park. And as my mind realized I had just been blackmailed, the world went on just as it always has, and always will.
LIKE. :)
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