Chapter 11

Josiphina

Well when you’re little girl, you want to be a princess. When you’re a teenager, you want to be a celebrity. When you’re an adult, you want to have a fancy car, and a fancy house. But the phase most people skip (that I’m stuck in right now), is being a spy. When you’re a spy, you want to kick James Bond’s butt in combat, and save the world, and receive the award for Top Agent. Not the Grammy Award.

And if I’m trying to do that...this community service is not helping.

I’ve only delivered 4 packages, but it feels like one-million. (Because, frankly, New York isn’t very small.) I’ve gone from Staten Island to the Bronx and back again. Plus, with security, a lot of the packages couldn’t even go on the subways. I had to walk from Northern Manhattan, to Brooklyn...with a 74-pound package! The absolute worst part is, since it’s still 10 weeks until summer vacation, I have to do all of this in the evenings.

My mom keeps asking why the heck I was breaking into Radio City Music Hall, but (of course) I can’t tell her. If I do, she will have way more questions, some that I don’t know the answer to. I just say, “It was stupid. I shouldn’t have done that.”, and she believes me. Gloria doesn’t. She’s suspicious of me “going over to see Lori” (who doesn’t actually exist), when I’m really at a YGYS conference or mission. For instance, I told her I was going to see Julie (who doesn’t exist either) and spend the night, when I was actually still at school.

But, now I have to wait for Simon Rutherford to open his front door. I mean, seriously, could a man be any slower? He was the man assigned to give me the boxes to deliver. I’m never sure what exactly is in the boxes, but I deliver them anyway.

David’s not with me. I was sick yesterday, and couldn’t deliver, so I have to work late hours. Very late hours.

It’s 9:42, and I think I rang the doorbell at 9:34. Maybe 9:35, but still. It doesn’t take 10 minutes the get to the door! Just before I gave up hope with this Simon dude, the door creaked open and his gleaming face stuck out.

“May I help you miss?”

“Yes”, I said, “I’m here for the next package.”

“Of course.” He reached inside and grabbed a tiny box off of a shelf. “Last one.”

Holding the tiny box in my palm was interesting. It felt heavy, but it was only about 2 inches in length, and 3 inches in height, and 3 inches in width. I did a quick calculation to find the area. 18. Then I got mad at myself. Why do I always do that. It must be the spy in me, I concluded.

I looked down to see the address.

46o E 174 St.

Bronx, New York City, NY

       

    “Alright, thank you”, I said, and turned for the street.

    “Wait, one last thing.”

    I swiveled to face him.

    “That box is…” Simon paused, as if searching for the right word. “...its very important.” He finally said. “Nothing can happen to it. Don’t let anyone hold it. In fact, you should keep it out of sight until you reach the address.”

    My attention was drawn back to the numbers and letters scribbled on the piece of notebook paper.

“Okay?” I put the box in my inside jacket pocket. “Thank you, again.”

    So I walked out into the night, not knowing the fate of america lay in my pocket.

In the dark, I could barely see the little post that read 172 St.. Two more blocks to go. As, I walked down Park Ave., I felt like one million eyes were watching me. Every corner I turned I felt watched. Spied on. I kept glancing around. Even if someone was watching, I would at least know, but this feeling was by far worse.

I wanted to back up against a wall and disappear. (But, I wasn’t in the best part of town, and I wouldn’t know exactly what I was leaning up against).

Finally, I reached 174th St.. I turned into the driveway of 460, and was surprised to see a short steel building. It had three arches that led to the door, and it reminded me slightly of a university. I proceeded up the sidewalk.

There it was again. The feeling of being watched. It felt stronger now, and got more intense with every step I took...with every arch I crossed under. I reached the door, and quickly spotted the doorbell. It was simple, but beautiful. I rang it, and took a step back ready for anyone, anything that would step through the silver door.

But I wasn’t ready for the all-too familiar face that suddenly appeared before me. It was…

“David?”

Those were the last words I said before I heard the gunshot. Searing pain shot up my leg, and I slipped into unconsciousness.  

Chapter 12

David

Josiphina. Hot tears of anger streamed down my face.

I grabbed the box in her outstretched hand, and gave it directly to CJ, who had rushed to the door, hearing the gunshot.

They were everywhere. Swarming. I saw a man about thirty years old with a gun in his hand. How dare he shoot her. How dare the government put Jo in this much danger!

Boys from inside the YBYS building began to dash out, and strike back at their invaders. Most of them were amateurs, but I let them go for it anyway.

I slumped down beside Jo, and turned her over in my arms. She had a deep, gushing wound in her left leg. Bad.

“Hey you.” I pointed to a little boy, huddling inside the building while his brothers were out fighting for their lives. He pointed at himself questioningly, like he was not the only one in there.

“Take her inside. Now!”

He obeyed, and I stood to face the field of danger. A spies life is not for sissies. I would avenge Josiphina. Even though she wasn’t dead. I hoped.

I immediately saw the man with the gun, over to my right. He was aiming at one of my friends.

“Alex, duck!” I said, right before the man shot. Alex only got his afro cut.

“Thanks, man.”

I sprinted at the gun holder, and when he shot...I ducked, then jumped up at him when he was trying to reload. Oldest trick in the book. The gun fell free from his grip, and another boy, Franses, caught it with one hand, and laddered it back to CJ. I could feel CJ’s smile.

The man lunged at me. Terrible mistake. I used his energy against him (like we learned in Judo) to flip him through the air to the ground behind me. He groaned. I hope I broke a bone or two.

I turned to face the rest of the fight. None of our men dead. Yet.

Almost all the attackers were either dead, or unconscious, so I focused on the one who was left. A woman.

“Drive her out!” I said with authority. I wasn’t the oldest, but I was the most experienced, I had the highest level, and was the leader.

The boys made a stone wall of themselves, and began to push her out into the street. She fought, but she could not win.

Soon she gave up, and ran away. The rest of the bodies were dragged into our building to be disposed of. I turned to the little boy.

“Where is she, Josh.”

He pointed to the safe house in our grounds.

“With the nurses.” He said.

We have the best medics in town. I know they will do everything they can, to help Jo. I hope it will be enough.