In gym class, Riley and Matt wound up on the same team for indoor soccer. To Matt’s amazement, as they lined up next to each other at the start of play, Riley seemed not to recognize him. First Courtney, now Riley. Hmmm . . .
Maybe my helmet and snow goggles hid my face enough to disguise me, Matt thought. Or maybe Riley just didn’t get that close a look — or maybe he’d forgotten all about it!
Matt considered himself a pretty fair soccer player, but of course, nobody here knew that, so nobody passed him the ball. Matt contented himself with playing good defense, and after one difficult block, he heard Riley say, “All right! Nice play!”
Good, he thought. He could start fresh and make friends with the kid, and everything would be okay.
Riley came over to him after class and said, “Hey.”
“Name’s Matt,” Matt said.
“Riley,” said Riley, shaking his hand. “You’re new, huh?”
“Yup.”
“Funny, I could swear I’ve seen you before somewhere.”
“I don’t think so,” Matt lied.
Riley shook his head. “I know I’ve seen you. Ah, never mind, I’ll think of it sooner or later.”
Matt swallowed hard.
“I hear you’re from Chicago.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I guess you think you’re pretty tough, huh?” He stared hard at Matt.
“I guess so,” Matt said. “Depends on what you mean by tough.”
“I like the way you blocked that kick. Got the body right in there.”
“Oh, that. Yeah, I guess I’m tough, then.”
Riley nodded. “Cool. I respect that. You don’t mess with me, I don’t mess with you, okay?”
Again, Matt was mystified, but he just said, “Okay.”
“Good. Then stay away from Melissa.”
“Melissa?”
“Melissa McCarthney. Don’t act dumb with me.”
“What is she, your girlfriend or something?” Matt asked.
“None of your beeswax,” said Riley. “Well, nice meeting you. Catch you later.”
Matt stared after Riley’s retreating figure, feeling like he’d somehow done something wrong even though all he’d done was talk to some girl he didn’t even know! He vowed to steer clear of Riley if they crossed paths again that day.
Luckily, they didn’t. Still, it was only when he had finally arrived back at home and thrown his leather jacket over the back of one of Uncle Clayton’s kitchen chairs that Matt finally felt himself relax. He was pouring a glass of milk when the phone rang.
“Hi, honey, it’s me.”
“Mom!”
“Matt, how’s it going there? Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Uncle Clayton says you’re settling in nicely.”
“Uh-huh.”
“How’s school? You started today, didn’t you?”
“It’s okay.”
“Just okay?”
“Mom, I don’t know yet. I’ve only been in class one day.”
“Well, do you like your classes? Your teachers?” “They’re fine.”
“Made any new friends yet?”
“Yeah, lots and lots of ’em. Mom, cut it out, okay? I just got here!”
“Baby, you know, you’ve got to make an effort. If you’re friendly, people will be friendly back.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“And don’t ‘yes’ me, Matthew. I’m just trying to be helpful.”
Yeah? Then why did you go away? he thought. “Hey, Mom, you never did tell me about your job before you left.”
“Oh, well, it’s complicated, honey,” she said, “and this call’s so expensive. I’ll write you all about it, okay?”
“Sure . . . Mom, you’re not a spy or something, are you?” he asked suddenly.
She laughed — nervously, he thought. “Matthew, whatever would make you ask a thing like that?”
“Well, are you?”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “You’re letting your imagination run away with you. I told you, I’ll write to you about what I’m doing in great detail. For now, you just concentrate on you.”
Agent Harper walks down the main street of the town, the hood of her jacket pulled up over her head. As she goes, she looks this way and that, her eyes full of tension. Under her arm, she carries a package bound with string. She holds it tightly, as if someone might try to take it away from her. And that must not happen — for inside that package is the prototype for the anti-terror nexus control, vital to the defense of the free world!
A black car pulls around the corner, its tires screeching. Now it’s coming up behind her, faster and faster. She runs, but it gains on her. She has only seconds to evade it — there! That alleyway! She cuts into it, running for her life. Then she stops. At the end of the alley, the town gives way to the alpine snowfields. She cannot get anywhere on them without skis — and she has no skis.
The black car screeches to a halt and two men get out, brandishing guns. They run down the alley after her.
She steps onto the snowfield, stumbling forward. They are close now. They point their guns at her.
SWOOSH! She is swept up into someone’s arms — someone on a snowboard, in a black and red outfit. “Wh-who are you?” she asks.
“Call me Snowboard Champ, Agent Harper,” says her rescuer. “Where can I drop you off?”
He deposits her safely at the edge of the forest path. “Just follow that path to the next town,” he tells her. Then he pushes off, back into the white alpine wilderness.
Agent Harper stares after him. “I wonder who he really is,” she says to herself.
If she only knew!