Chapter 14

Josiphina

Somehow I knew it wasn’t a dream all along.

“So,” I said changing the subject, “you want to tell me where I am, why you’re here, and what exactly just happened?”

    He stood there for a second not saying a word. I sighed.

    “You know, like,the agenda?”

    Finally he escaped from La-La land (wherever that is), and grabbed my hand. He said the rest so fast, I could barely make it out.

    “I know we’re both spies and we’re both used to this, but I’m so sorry for everything that just happened. You’re in the YBYS building, and as you know, you just got shot. The nurses took care of it. The box is too much for you to handle. The government shouldn’t have given it to you. You’re leg’s okay, but you might not walk again for a long time. Sorry I haven’t been nicer to you. Sorry about everything. Josiphina, I love you.” The last sentence was so quiet I could barely hear. Yet it was so loud in my heart I couldn’t stand it.

    “I love you too.” My words were soft and scratchy, but I could tell he heard them, because he squeezed my hand and helped my sit up.

He brought over a wheelchair and I willingly sat down. I was more than happy to get of that bed.

“You’ll be in this for today, and then you’ll be in crutches for about one week.”

I tried my best to smile. “At least I’m not dead.”

“Jo, that’s not funny. You very well could have been. And I very well could of let you.”

The words stung, and I felt tears swell in my eyes. How could he say that?

I began to wheel away hoping maybe I’d be fast enough to escape. No.

He gripped the back of the wheelchair.

“Please don’t go.” I turned myself around (which was quite difficult since I’d never actually used a wheelchair before). “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Why?” He looked confused.

“It’s my fault. If I wouldn’t of been sick yesterday I could’ve delivered the package then. And this would not of happened.”

“Don’t blame yourself.” His words were cliche, but they did feel asuring. “If you would have come yesterday they still would have been here, searching.”

I smiled, but it was forced.

“Can you promise me they won’t come back?”

He paused and sighed drawing in breath smoothly and letting it all out in a huff.

“I can’t promise you, Jo.”

    “Can you believe, then.” I waited for his answer, but it didn’t come.

It reminded me of the first day after Papi died. I asked Mom why he was late coming home from work. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

“Why won’t you answer me?” I had said.

“Because I don’t know how he’s gone. Why he’s gone. And if I don’t know, I can still believe.” She hadn’t even looked up from her stories. (My mother was a journalist.)

I hoped know that I could still believe too.

Then, a sudden thought hit me. Was Papi a spy too? Had he died in a mission? We never knew exactly where my father worked, because he never told us the whole story. Sounds like a spy to me. No, it was impossible. I pushed the crazy thoughts from my head, and waited again for David to answer. When he didn’t, I sighed and tried again.

“What can you promise me?”

He looked to the floor for a moment and then back up at me.

“That when they come, I’ll be there for you.”

David led me inside for the grand tour.

“And to your right you see a boy trying to sneak a coke from the fridge before CJ sees.”

    “David stop!” I said laughing so hard my belly hurt. He had been doing this for 5 minutes but I was more happy than annoyed.

    He kept pushing the wheelchair along the halls, I kept laughing, and all the newer, younger boys kept staring at me. I wonder if they knew about girl spies training. I wonder if they thought they were the only ones.

    I let the thought linger in my head while David came to a set of stairs.

    “Umm...how am I…”

    “I know I know.” David sighed. “Do you think I could carry you?”

    I don’t think I’ve heard anything more romantic. I didn’t say that (for obvious reasons).

“Sure I guess.”

    I stood  slightly, but as soon as I put pressure on my bad leg, horrific pain shot through me. I opened my mouth to scream,but he scooped me up, and I was silenced. I loved the way he held me. With such care, but without pity. I hated when people pitied me and David knew that.

David got Josh (a 12 year-old) to carry the wheelchair down the stairs, and as soon as it was positioned correctly I sat down.

I looked at Josh. “Thank you.” I smiled. Josh beamed. I think he has a tiny crush on me. I was pretty, considering that I’m 17 and ⅓ (if the ⅓ matters). Josh stackled upstairs, and I watched him until I could barely see the tips of his toes. Then, I faced David.

“What’s so important that we had to come down here?”

David grinned. “You’ll see.”

My curiosity bubbled up, and I was afraid it was going to come pouring over the side.

First we stopped by CJ’s private office, and we were greeted by a not-so-friendly “What are you doing here?”

David bowed his head, and said “hello”. I did the same and CJ looked up to meet our gaze.

“I was hoping you would have a nice recovery miss…”

“Josiphina.”

He looked at me, stunned. “I guess I can forget the whole forgetting medicine, then.” The question was how did he know by the name, but I knew the answer.

“Yes that won’t be necessary.” I said with my head held high. “I already know all about you guys.”

David looked at me and smiled. He didn’t have to tell me that he still can’t believe I’m a spy.

“So, Mr. Martinez-”

“How did you know my name.” He raised an extremely bushy eyebrow. “I don’t remember telling you.”

But, I recognized him.

“I know things.”

    Silence.

    “You guys okay?” David scooted closer.

    I laughed. “CJ, what can’t Gary tell me? What can’t any of the boys even hint to David.” I copied Mr. Clark’s words exactly.

    David looked at me, then at CJ, as if he was trying to pick a side.

    “I simply don’t know wha-” CJ began but I didn’t let him finish.

    “Tell me.”

    “Josi-”

    I looked at David with sharp eyes. He slinked away, and I smiled.

    “Tell me Martinez. I promise your little secret’s safe with me.”

    CJ ran up the stairs, and I was about to follow, and then…

    ...oh yeah...I’m in a wheelchair.

    “What was that all about?”

    I looked kindly at David now, and grinned.

    “I’ll tell you later...when we’re alone.”

   

    David’s not stupid. He knew I wouldn’t tell him right away. I’d let him wonder about it for a while. Wasn’t it Socrates who once said

   

Wisdom begins in wonder.

Now, I’m not quite as smart as Socrates, but I agree. So, I let him wonder.

“Almost there…” He said.

“Where are we go-” Then I remembered the quote about wonder, and silenced. I wonder if Socrates meant the “wander” too.

David guessed what I was going to say.

“You’ll see.” I hate when people say that (especially my mom).

We turned down a hall, and I saw a wall of photo’s. Most were black and white, some were color, and a few were even paintings. He led me up to one color photo.

“You’re lucky you got shot in the leg.” I suddenly knew what he meant.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be,” he started to cry, “the other boys are like new brothers to me.

His brother. Oh. My. Gosh.

“The problem is my parents.” He was still sobbing but I realized what he meant. His parents can’t know….

“I had to lie and tell them it was a car wreck.”

“I…”

David grabbed my hand. I tried to cry, but I couldn’t. I wanted so badly to comfort him. I wanted to pull him up in a hug and never let go…

But then I saw another color photo lingering nearby. I pointed to it, and David pushed me up next to it. I suddenly recognized the man...my father.

I remembered the men coming to our house.

It was 3 a.m., but I was wide awake. When is daddy coming home? He was never this late. But I was only 6 at the time so I walked up to where Mommy and the men were talking. It was something about work. Daddy never told us where he worked, so I stayed.

“Are you sure it was him.” I looked up at my mother, her eyes were wet with tears. What’s the problem?

“Yes. Poor Zach.” One of the taller men said. “A heart attack victim. I can’t believe it.”

What’s a heart attack? What does victim mean? I had no answers.

Mommy sent me back to bed, and she went to the couch and cried. Why is she so sad? I would ask about Daddy tomorrow.

“Ah, good ol Zach Rachel. Sorry to say he was one of the ones who didn’t make it.”

Wait, My father was a spy. That’s where he worked.

“He was just the unlucky one. Got caught and killed.”

Does he not care that I’m bursting into tears?

My crying became louder now, and I managed to whisper

“Daddy.”

David stopped talking. He leaned forward and scooped me up in a hug. I love him.

“Please don’t cry.” He whispered in my ear. I sobbed.

We stayed there for a moment. I felt like a child safe in my mother’s arms, except the situation I was in now, was nothing like that. David kept whispering in my ear not to cry, but it was no help. At least it was comforting. And kind.

“I wish I could have known.”

He pulled me closer.