“Why don’t you believe me?” Zoey looked hopefully at Agent Vargas and Agent Ward. Her debriefing back at the hive wasn’t going as Zoey had expected—she had expected them to believe her.
“And you’re sure you heard them using the word, interloper?” asked Agent Ward for the third time. His hypercritical tone was causing Zoey to doubt the agent’s desire to trust her at all.
He continued, “From what you’ve told us, they were in the room next to you. Is it possible that you misunderstood them?”
“I didn’t misunderstand them,” said Zoey exasperated.
She tried to control her temper. She wiped the blood from her lip with a cloth. “I heard them say it more than once. I’m telling you the truth. Why won’t you believe me?”
“Calm yourself, Zoey,” said Agent Vargas. “We’re just trying to make sense of it all. It is a lot of information to process—and you only just started today. I know you’re desperate to prove yourself to everyone—you just might be a little overzealous. After your fight with the nitro-fairy, and then mirror-porting somewhere else, it’s no wonder you’re a little confused. That’s a pretty large bump you have on her head. Perhaps what you heard was not in fact what you believe you heard.”
Zoey’s face burned. “What I heard was that you have a traitor in the agency—a man. It was dark, and I didn’t see his face, so I can’t identify him. But he is the one that made it possible for that woman I told you about to steal the interloper. Maybe if you check the Boston hive—”
“The one with the cat-like face—” said Agent Ward shortly. She crossed her arms over her chest. “The gang leader in your opinion, correct? A woman with a severe disfiguration who, according to you, was able to waltz right past the heavy security and into the Boston hive, murder the agents protecting the interloper, and then walk right back out without anyone seeing her. Is that about right?”
“Well, I don’t know how she did it, but yes,” said Zoey sounding less and less confident by the minute.
“The woman said she had it. She has the interloper, I’m telling you she does.”
The words felt heavy in her mouth, and even she had started to second-guess her story. The way Agent Ward eyed Zoey made her realize it was hopeless. She had felt so important just moments ago. She felt proud that she had acquired intelligence for the agency, but now she felt deflated.
It didn’t make sense—why didn’t they believe her? Was it because she was a Drifter? As soon as it came into her mind, she started to believe it herself. It had to be the reason. She doubted they would have treated Tristan or Simon like this.
Agent Ward eyed her suspiciously. “Overzealous indeed. Fabricating stories to elevate oneself is a serious offense at the agency. I don’t know much about how orphanages operate, but here, we don’t take too kindly to liars.”
Zoey’s mouth fell open. “You don’t believe me? You think I made it all up, don’t you? You think I would actually lie about this? I’m bleeding. How did I fake that?”
She felt her eyes sting and forced them to stay dry. She would not let them see any of her angry tears. Not now. She lifted her pant leg and showed them the nasty purple and red bruise the man had left on her leg.
“What about this? How do you suppose I got that?”
“Children get bruises all the time,” said Agent Ward, and she raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t prove anything, my dear.”
Zoey felt the color drain from her face. Her lips trembled. Her voice stuck in her throat. She should have known they wouldn’t believe her—after all she was the Drifter.
Agent Vargas shared a look with Agent Ward, and then he looked at Zoey. “You’re safe with us now and that’s what matters most. We are very happy to have you back here in one piece.”
He gave Zoey a kind smile. “You can go now, Zoey. We’ve heard what you had to say, and now Agent Ward and I need to have a moment to discuss the matter further. We’ll let you know if we need further assistance from you.”
Zoey swallowed hard and turned without another word. She felt that the world around her had closed in and was suffocating her. She couldn’t breathe. Her hands were clammy, and she wiped them on her jeans. She felt so humiliated—the agents thought she was a liar. How could they believe that she had made this up to bring more attention to herself—like that was something she lacked.
Tristan and Simon were waiting for her outside the door.
“And?” asked Simon eagerly as he and Tristan walked with Zoey down the hall. “Is the agency going on a mission-impossible to sniff out the DA?”
Zoey wrinkled her face. “The district attorney?”
“He means double agent,” answered Tristan. “The traitor. The man that attacked you.”
Simon emptied a bag of chips in his mouth. “You’re totally going to be upgraded to full agent status,” he said with his mouth full. “Man, you’re so lucky. I wish it could’ve been me. I mean, all I got going for me is my flawless skin and perfect hair—you’re going to be involved with top-secret stuff, you know. You’re the only one that can identify him and the plastic lady.”
Zoey stopped walking. “It’s not going to happen. Sorry to disappoint you—but they didn’t believe me.”
Simon spit out his chips and nearly tripped. “What? Are you serious?”
Tristan lowered his eyes. “I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it. I’m very serious,” said Zoey. “According to Agent Ward, I made the entire thing up to get attention.”
Tristan shook his head looking angry. “The old woman’s senile, forget about her. What about Agent Vargas? What did he say?”
“I don’t think he believed me either,” said Zoey.
The whole experience was feeling more and more like a bad dream. Part of her wished it never happened. “Let’s just forget about it, okay.”
“But he has to believe you,” pressed Tristan, his voice rising. “What’s wrong with them? They have to report every piece of information that threatens the agency—it’s their job! They can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. What you told us is too important to ignore—they have to warn management before it’s too late.”
“I don’t think they’re going to say anything to management,” said Zoey. “I could just tell by the way they were looking at me, like I was a total spaz.”
Tristan was silent for a moment. “Then we have to tell Agent Barnes. He’ll believe us, I know he will.”
“Yeah, let’s tell him,” said Simon. “He’ll believe us for sure.”
Zoey doubted that Agent Barnes would believe her, but seeing how much her friends believed that he would, she decided to tell him. “Okay, if you say so.”
“Cheer up, Zoey,” said Simon. “We still have to get back at Stuart for messing with the mirror-port.”
He smiled mischievously. “If he wants to be treated like royalty, then I’ll just have to throne him a few punches.”
Zoey laughed, she could always count on Simon to make her laugh. At least her friends believed her, and that was something. She had never had real friends before.
Following her friends’ advice, Zoey approached Agent Barnes the next morning. Tristan and Simon stood beside her for support as she recounted the events. After she was done, she stood and waited for him to laugh at her. But he didn’t.
“You did a good thing telling me,” he said. “I’ve been saying all along that it was an inside job. Now they’re going to have to listen.” And then he stormed away.
None of the agents brought up the subject of the interloper again, but Zoey couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that lingered in her mind. She knew it was there, like a hand in front of her face in the dark, she couldn’t see it, but she felt it was there.
She hadn’t expected the rumors. Somehow, the other operatives had gotten wind of her experience with the mirror-port, and it had become a running joke.
“Hey watch out! The cat lady is right behind you!”
“Meow! Meow!”
“Yo, catnip.”
Tristan and Simon had to pull her away kicking and screaming a few times. Although she was still furious, and her pride was hurt, she had willed herself to ignore their taunts. She had really wanted to start a fight, but she couldn’t afford to get into trouble.
The agents watched Zoey constantly. It wasn’t just Agent Ward or Agent Vargas—all the agents at the hive appeared to be on watch duty for Zoey. She got looks from everyone. Even Mrs. Andrews at reception gave her questionable looks. The way they kept eyeing her suspiciously—it was almost as though they thought she had something to do with the stolen interloper. But how could she?
Being watched constantly put a damper on her plans to avenge herself on Stuart. Instead of telling the agents that Stuart had pushed her, she had told them that it was her fault—she had tripped and caused the DSM to malfunction.
Zoey wasn’t a rat, and she preferred to settle her battles her own way. Stuart had not realized that Zoey was waiting for an opportunity to get back at him, and he strolled the agency’s hallways confident that he was untouchable, like he owned the place. That was his first mistake. She would get her revenge one day. Stuart was going to pay.
As they entered September, the nights became cooler and Zoey slept with her windows open. With lots of work, dedication, and ongoing help from Tristan and Simon, she had finally caught up with the rest of the class. She could recite all the mystics in the first rank by heart and was now half way through the second rank. She had also grasped the art of mirror-porting, and could make ten jumps in one day—all without throwing up. She beamed when Agent Vargas had told her she was a natural.
She could hardly believe she’d been at the agency for over three months. The hive felt more like home than any foster home ever had. Her lessons in theory and practical had also become more exciting now that she had mastered the basics. She liked belonging to something more important and bigger than she was.
Even Agent Ward hadn’t failed her. In fact, Agent Ward had smiled at Zoey one morning and congratulated her on her essay, Ogres, Big and Small. Agent Ward had never smiled at her before.
Zoey, Tristan, and Simon were just returning to the Academy after lunch when they were mustered with the others outside.
“Everyone outside—wait by the main entrance!” barked Agent Vargas as he escorted everyone outside with him.
He wore a big stopwatch and a whistle on a string around his neck.
“Off you go, all of you. You need to be physically fit to be good agents. Around the hive four times.”
“Come on, Stacey, you need to be faster than that,” he called to a pudgy girl with a red face. “Nela, James, hurry up—off you go now!”
Zoey ran alongside Tristan and Simon. She was grateful that she hadn’t had the cheeseburger and fries, and had stuck with the house chicken salad for lunch. Simon tripped a few times, and lied that had asthma so he could avoid the last lap. Zoey thought her lungs were going to burst, but she made it to the end and collapsed on the ground with the others.
“He means to kill us by exhaustion.” Simon collapsed on the ground beside Zoey. “I think I’ve lost a lung.”
A whistle blew. “Everyone back to class!” With a smile, Agent Vargas strolled back through the front entrance.
Tristan laughed. “Don’t be a baby. It’s all part of the training.”
He offered his hands to both Zoey and Simon and lifted them to their feet. He let go of Simon right away, but clung to Zoey’s hand a little longer. Their eyes met, and there was an uncomfortable silence between them. She looked into his eyes, and she felt something deep within her that caused her entire body to stiffen.
“Guys, I think I’m allergic to air,” said Simon, as he held the cramp at his side. “Seriously, I think I am—look—” He wheezed overdramatically, and pointed to his mouth. “That’s not normal! I think I’m dying!”
Zoey’s throat still felt like she had swallowed razor blades after the run, but she wasn’t making a big thing of it.
Tristan rolled his eyes and let go of Zoey’s hand.
He nudged Simon playfully. “Come on freak,” he said and made for the front entrance.
Simon still pretended to be suffocating.
Zoey hesitated. Why did Tristan make her so nervous? No one ever made her nervous—she hated the feeling. He was just another boy—her friend—that was all. It was her own fault he was looking at her in that way, her and her big mouth.
She followed Tristan and Simon back to class. As they entered room 1D, most of the operatives were already there, breathing hard and sweaty. They were all hunched over the back table, talking excitedly. She wasn’t the only one looking forward to the weapons training session they were going to have today.
The table was covered with a collection of sparkling black slingshots, crossbows, dart-like weapons, ninja-like stars, silver daggers, and boxes that overflowed with metal balls the size of marbles.
A single golden boomerang caught her attention. In the shape of a slightly curved V, it winked at her from under a pile of daggers. She couldn’t explain it, but somehow she was drawn to it. Excitement fluttered inside her and she had to restrain herself from reaching out and grabbing it. The other operatives drooled over the slingshots—they looked really cool—but her eyes kept going back to the boomerang.
Tristan only looked mildly excited. She knew he had used a slingshot before. She had seen it on him on the very first day she had met him, but she had never asked him about it.
The classroom’s door closed with a bang.
“Good, you’re all here,” Agent Vargas strolled across the room.
“This, my little operatives,” he said proudly, “is the new S9 series Pro slingshot, the latest model. It’s not unlike the S8 you were using before, but it’s lighter and more precise. It’s built with mystic technology—you’re not supposed to miss with this one.”
The operatives laughed, but Zoey’s insides stirred.
“In today’s class we’re going to freshen up your aim,” continued Agent Vargas, “and then we’ll move on to shooting at moving targets. It’s important to note that the slingshots, and all the other weapons that you see on that table are only used to immobilize hostiles—not to kill them.”
Stuart and Claudia laughed at some inside joke, and then they both stared at Zoey with evil grins on their faces. She hoped they’d try something—it would give her an excuse to fight Stuart.
Agent Vargas surveyed the operatives intensely. “Weapons training is a major component of our operative physical training programs. You must pass marksmanship tests, and you need at least ninety percent accuracy with slingshots, handguns, crossbows, and all the other projectile arms.
“Don’t forget, you’ll be paired with an agent for a field assignment at the end of the term.”
His eyes wandered over to Zoey. “They will be assessing you, and their grades will determine fifty percent of your final grade—so no messing around if you want to continue in the program.”
“Everyone—pick up an S9 slingshot, or any other weapon of your choosing, and line up in front of the target zone.”
Agent Vargas moved towards the front of the room where a round board fixed with a tripod was mounted. It looked like the typical archery target with the colored circles around a middle red dot.
Zoey turned back to the table. Stuart and Claudia each grabbed an S9 slingshot, as did most of the other operatives. The boy named James grabbed a crossbow, and a girl with short black hair, whom she knew as Stephanie, took three silver daggers.
Zoey reached out and grabbed the golden boomerang it. It was cool and smooth in her hand. It weighed no more than a large kitchen knife and was about twelve inches long. Its golden surface glimmered, and she caught her reflection in it. Both sides of the wings were curved slightly upwards, and there were finger grooves for a firm grip. Swirl-like designs were etched into the metal. She had never held a boomerang before, and this was by far the coolest one she’d ever seen.
As she turned to join the others, Tristan held a gold bracelet in front of her.
“This goes with it,” he said as he gave it to her.
“It does?” Zoey took the bracelet and examined it. It was a cuff bracelet, flat and wide, and made of the same gold metal and with the same swirl designs on the surface. “How do they go together?”
“You put it on your throwing and catching arm—the boomerang knows to come back to it—always. You’ll never lose it.”
Zoey put the bracelet on. “But I thought the whole purpose of a boomerang was to come back to the person who threw it?”
“Yes, but there’s this also.” Tristan took the boomerang from her. He pressed on it, and it folded in on itself like a pocketknife. Then he placed the folded boomerang on top of the bracelet where it stuck, as though it was magnetized.
Zoey moved her arm around. “This is totally awesome. So, how do I take it off?”
“Like this.” Tristan pressed on the tip of one of the wings, and the boomerang popped off.
Zoey couldn’t help but be totally impressed. “Wow. Why aren’t there any others? This is the coolest weapon.”
Tristan gave her back the boomerang. “Because it’s probably the hardest weapon to use. It’s a lot easier to use a crossbow or a slingshot. I don’t know anyone who has really mastered it.”
“Well, the thing speaks to me. I don’t know—I love it actually. Call me crazy, but I feel better with this than with a slingshot.”
Tristan smiled. “It doesn’t matter what you use, as long as you can handle it.” He walked away leaving Zoey in admiration of her new toy.
“Let’s go, operatives,” said Agent Vargas.
“Pick up your weapons and line up please. You’ll each have a go. Let’s see how many of you can hit the bulls-eye on the first try.
Tristan laughed at Simon who was aiming at invisible foes, and making a spectacle of himself.
All the operatives lined up in front of the target. Zoey stood at the end of the line, behind Simon.
As Zoey twisted the boomerang with her wrist, she caught Stuart eyeing her.
“What a joke—she’ll never be able to throw it properly,” she heard him say to Claudia. “No one uses those anymore. They’re like practically extinct. They don’t work well—the agency stopped producing them years ago.”
“Who cares? She’s going to fail anyway,” said Claudia with a bored expression. Her eyes kept moving to Tristan.
Zoey pretended not to hear them. Besides, the boomerang was having a strange effect on her, like she was meant to have it. Somehow she felt empowered by it.
Agent Vargas stood on the left side of the targets. “Pay attention, I don’t want anyone losing an eye today—and please—try not to shoot me.”
He brushed his braid behind his shoulder, and Zoey noticed how he took a second step to the side. “Now, who’s up first?”
A boy named Billy Beaumont was the first one up. He placed a single metal ball firmly in the pouch of his slingshot. Even from the back of the line, Zoey could see sweat trickling down the sides of Billy’s face. He stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth as he raised his slingshot and aimed. He pulled the pouch back steadily and released it.
It missed Agent Vargas’s head by a millimeter and hit the wall far to the left of the target and rolled on the floor.
“I see that your aim hasn’t improved, Billy,” said Agent Vargas. He raised his eyebrows, and the entire class laughed.
“Sorry, Agent Vargas,” said Billy looking utterly horrified at nearly blinding the agent.
“Back at the end of the line, please, Billy,” said Agent Vargas. “And that goes for everyone. You can’t leave today until you’ve hit somewhere on the target. As third term operatives, you should be hitting the target easily—no one should be missing.”
Zoey started to get nervous. She had never thrown a real boomerang before. She had pretended that a stick was a real boomerang during the orphan war against the rich kids. The stick had worked miracles then, and she had hit one of the rich kids on the nose. But would she have the same luck today? Had she been a fool to select it? She could have taken a foolproof slingshot. What if she was worse than Billy? What if she never hit the target?
Stuart gave her an icy smile. He was hoping for her to miss, and he seemed very confident that she would.
It was Nela Singh’s turn next. She cleared her long black hair away from her face, lifted her slingshot, her body straight, and shot. Boom. It hit the target on the edge of the largest circle. The class erupted in cheers.
“Well done, Nela. And keep your elbows in, you’ll get a better shot next time,” said Agent Vargas. He pointed towards a row of paper targets at the other end of the room
“You can keep practicing over there until the end of the class. Next!”
One by one the operatives either hit or missed the target. Those who missed had to get back in the line behind her. Zoey didn’t want to miss. When it came to Stuart’s turn, he pulled his slingshot lazily and hit his mark. As he sauntered away he sneered at Zoey.
Soon it was Tristan’s turn. Lifting his slingshot, he turned his upper body slightly to the left, aimed, and fired. WHACK. The ball hit the bull’s-eye red dot.
“Perfect hit, as always. Well done, Tristan.” Agent Vargas patted him on the back.
“How can anyone beat that? Not all of us are born disgustingly hot and perfect,” said Simon who looked a little green as he prepared to shoot. But he too hit the target and looked as surprised as everyone else around him. “See? See? Told you all I could do this. I’m a natural.”
It was Zoey’s turn.
At first the boomerang slipped in her sweaty palm, but she gripped it firmly and positioned herself, careful not to step over the tape shooting line on the ground.
Agent Vargas frowned slightly when he saw what she held in her hand. Her stomach twisted. She could hear the others laughing at her over the thundering of her heart. Stuart’s laugh was louder than all the others. Her nerves were replaced by anger when she heard him. Using that anger, she was able to concentrate even harder. The world around her disappeared. She and the target were alone in the room. She focused all her attention on the little red dot.
Somehow, it came naturally to her—she knew exactly what to do. Raising her right arm, she bent her elbow and angled the boomerang slightly to the right. She pinched the edge with her fingers and thumb and pitched the boomerang like a baseball, snapping her wrist at the end.
The boomerang shot out of her hand with a counterclockwise spin. It flew like a bullet in an arch, smacked the target head on, and then spun back straight at Zoey. She jumped slightly to the left and caught the boomerang easily with her right hand. The force of the spin stung her palm, but she didn’t let go.
“Wow, that was amazing,” said Tristan. “I’ve never seen anyone throw a boomerang like that. You’ve done this before, right?”
Zoey stared at the gold boomerang in her hands and smiled. “No, I haven’t. I can’t believe I hit it. I actually hit it and caught it.”
For a moment, Zoey felt empowered holding her boomerang. She felt she could accomplish anything. She looked into Tristan’s dark eyes and felt goose bumps. He made her feel nervous and giddy all at the same time. She turned away quickly, afraid that he would see the flush on her face.
The look of surprise on Stuart’s face was the icing on the cake. Zoey couldn’t keep from smiling.
Agent Vargas raised his brows. “Well, I guess Tristan’s not the only one who’s gifted.”
He smiled at Zoey. “I’ve never seen anyone handle a boomerang quite like you just did, Zoey—it was magical—and very surprising. No one has ever wanted to use that boomerang after what happened to Jimmy.”
“I’m afraid to ask, but who’s Jimmy? And what happened to him?” said Zoey.
“Jimmy,” said Agent Vargas, “was an operative before my time. The story is that poor Jimmy thought he could throw that same boomerang—but when he did, the boomerang came back, and he lost an eye.”
Zoey made a face. Agent Vargas continued, “Apparently, his eye popped out and made a horrible mess. The girls screamed and someone stepped on it—can you imagine?”
“Trying hard not to,” said Zoey, disgusted.
“Since then, no one ever dared to use it again, and the agency stopped producing the boomerangs all together. I’m surprised it was still here. It should have been thrown away years ago.”
Zoey admired her boomerang. “But it wasn’t. It was waiting for me.”
Agent Vargas raised his eyebrows. “I guess it was.”
Zoey folded her boomerang and fastened it back against her bracelet where it fit perfectly. She looked back at Tristan who was positively beaming. “Did Jimmy ever make agent?”
Zoey’s question was interrupted by a booming siren.
The ground shook as the sound blasted through the academy. It was like a bomb had exploded. The operatives froze in silent terror.
“What’s happening?” Zoey shouted over the deafening alarm.
Tristan shook his head and yelled, “That’s the central alarm. I think we’re under attack!”