G.I. Joe Classified, page 7
“Scarlett?” asked Stan. “I thought you two knew each other pretty well.”
“Kinda,” said Julien. “I mean, my folks and I moved here about a year and a half ago when my dad got a job with DeCobray, and she’s always looked out for me, like a big sister or something. But we didn’t really hang out until recently, when Michel started hassling me.”
“I guess she’s the only one who’s originally from here.”
“You heard what Tommy said, right?” asked Julien. “About how she used to be miserable and alone? I wonder what he meant by that.”
“It’s kind of hard to imagine,” said Stan. “She’s always so in charge. You saw how she handled that crazy situation with Zartan.”
“Totally cool and in control,” agreed Julien. “But I guess we all got stuff in our past.”
Stan thought about his father’s death and the years that followed. The hurt. The helpless anger. “Yeah. I guess we do.”
“Your mom works for DeCobray, too?” asked Julien.
“Back at their regional office in Chicago for years. And then I was having some . . . problems at school, so when my mom saw this promotion to headquarters, she took it. She said the change would do us both some good.”
Julien’s eyebrow rose. “I assume the ‘problem’ was the fighting you mentioned this morning?”
Stan nodded.
“I mean, speaking purely selfishly here, I’m kinda lucky you like to pick fights.”
“I don’t like it, though,” said Stan. “I just . . .”
“You get mad.”
“Yeah.”
They walked in silence for a little while through the streets of Springfield. The sky was changing from orange to purple, and stars were just beginning to peek out.
“You always been like that?” asked Julien. There was no judgment in his voice, though.
“No, it was . . .”
Stan hesitated. He’d never told anyone this before. The kids back in Chicago had just known. The whole neighborhood had. It was one of the reasons it had been so hard to leave. Because there had been an understanding. Not here, though. But maybe Julien . . .
He glanced over at his friend, who was just walking along beside him, not pressing, not assuming. Stan had only known him for a day, he realized. And yet, he felt so easy around him. Maybe some friendships were just natural like that. It probably helped that they’d already shared some pretty crazy experiences.
“It was two years ago,” he said at last. “Someone was getting mugged. My dad tried to help that person. And the mugger . . . killed him.”
“Whoa . . .” Julien’s eyes widened.
“I didn’t see it happen, but that’s what the cops told us.” He clenched his fists as he pictured their hard, impassive faces. “Then as the cops were walking away, one said to the other that my dad shouldn’t have done it. That it had been a stupid thing to do and he’d gotten himself killed for no reason.”
“That’s horrible.”
“I don’t think they realized I could hear them.”
“Even still.”
“Yeah,” said Stan.
They walked a little farther.
“Say,” said Julien, “you want to come over for dinner?”
“Uh, sure.” Then Stan’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, this isn’t because you feel bad for me, is it?”
“What? No!”
“Uh-huh.” Julien was still a terrible liar, but Stan appreciated the effort.
“OK, maybe that’s what made me think of it,” admitted Julien. “But I don’t actually have many friends, and you just shared something big with me. So I felt like the least I could do is offer you the hospitality of the March household.”
Stan thought about the microwave dinner that awaited him because his mom was probably working late again, and said, “I’ll take it.”
“Oh, just a heads-up, my mom is a good cook. But, uh, she’s also a little kooky.”
“Kooky?”
“You’ll see.”
CHAPTER
15
A REAL FAMILY TOWN
The outside of Julien’s house looked much like Stan’s, but the inside was very different. While the Migda house was hardly furnished, with empty wooden floors and unadorned white walls, the March house was crammed full of furniture, with lush rugs on the floors and richly colored paintings crowding the walls.
And then there was the music. When they first walked in, Stan assumed someone was playing a stereo really loudly. Some sort of wild, jazzy piano number. But then Julien called out, “I’m home!” and the music cut off mid-note.
A moment later, a middle-aged woman with brown skin and long flowing black hair who was dressed in an oversize white button-up shirt came sweeping out of one of the rooms.
“My baby has come home!” She raised her hands like she was praying. “At long last!”
Julien didn’t look amused. “Hi, Mom. Sorry, our, uh, school club meeting went long. This is Stan. Can he stay for dinner?”
“Perhaps . . .” She narrowed her eyes as she looked at Stan. “Are you a polite boy, Stan?”
“Yes, Ms. March.”
“Well said. How do you feel about tofu?”
“Depends on what it’s with.”
“Wise answer.” She nodded, looking impressed. “And lastly, what’s your take on Sun Ra’s seminal album Jazz in Silhouette?”
“Huh?”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, two out of three ain’t bad. Fine, the two of you go wash up, then get ready to feast!”
She spun on her heel and swept off toward the kitchen.
Julien shrugged. “See what I mean? A little kooky.”
“Who’s Sun Ra?” asked Stan.
“Never mind.”
While they waited for dinner, Julien showed Stan his computer setup, with two monitors, a PC tower, keyboard, and mouse that all swirled rainbow LED lights. There was also a huge chair that looked like it should have been on a rocket ship.
“A gamer’s paradise,” Julien said proudly.
“How did you get all this?” Stan wasn’t that into video games, but he had to admit it looked impressive.
Julien looked a little embarrassed. “I think my dad felt guilty for moving us out of Kansas City for his job. So with his new DeCobray salary, I got this rig, and my mom got the grand piano she’s always wanted.”
“Piano?” asked Stan. “That wasn’t a recording when we came in, then? That was your mom playing?”
“Yeah, she’s a jazz musician.”
“Is she, like, famous?”
He shrugged. “If you’re a big jazz fan, I guess. She’s won a few awards, and sometimes she goes on tour and stuff.”
“Whoa.” Stan couldn’t imagine having a parent who was famous. Even if it was only jazz famous.
“It’s really not a big deal,” Julien assured him. “And having an artist for a parent means things are always a little weird.”
“I don’t mind weird,” Stan said.
“Glad to hear it. Because you’re about to eat dinner with my mom.”
As they sat down to dinner, Stan wondered if Julien was just exaggerating, or maybe overly embarrassed. Ms. March seemed like a totally normal mom, making sure they had enough food on their plates, that they were using napkins, and other regular parent things. The food was a little unusual. Some sort of tofu stir-fry with noodles. But it wasn’t too spicy.
“So, Stan,” Ms. March said once they began eating. “What do you think of Springfield so far?”
“Oh, uh . . .”
He thought back to his initial impression of the city. Like some sort of tech utopia. Now, it seemed more like a nightmare dystopia. But he probably couldn’t say that. There was really only one thing that he could say that was true.
“I miss Chicago,” he said honestly.
“Oh, yes, a wonderful city,” agreed Ms. March. “Some excellent clubs there. Great restaurants. And a rich history in jazz. Not as rich as Kansas City, of course, but . . .” Her eyes grew distant for a moment, then she shook her head. “I guess I can relate about being a little homesick.”
“Not a lot of jazz clubs in Springfield?” he asked.
“Exactly zero, in fact,” she said. “Apparently when DeCobray came in and rebuilt this town, the arts were not high on their list of priorities.”
Stan wasn’t a big arts person, but that did seem like an important thing for a town to have. “That’s a shame.”
“Well,” she said, “we do what we can with what we’re given, right?”
“What else can we do?” he agreed.
She turned to Julien. “I like this new friend of yours. He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”
Stan gave his friend a pained smile. If only she knew about his school discipline record.
“So what’s this about a school club?” she asked Julien.
“Oh, uh, it’s . . .”
Knowing his friend was terrible at lying, Stan jumped in. “It’s a peer mentor program, so we do all kinds of stuff.”
Ms. March looked impressed. “Peer mentoring, huh? I like the sound of that.”
“Julien is basically a one-man tech support to the rest of the school.”
“That’s my baby!” She beamed.
“Mom . . .” said Julien.
Stan noticed that Julien’s mom wasn’t wearing a Lyre and decided a change of topic would be the safest bet.
“Ms. March, do you not have a Lyre device?”
“Oh, I got one all right,” she said. “It’s in my bedside table and that’s where it will remain.”
“My mom is not a tech person,” said Julien.
“I swear, I have some sort of electrical thing in my body,” Ms. March declared. “It all goes haywire when I try to use it.”
Julien sighed. “I told you, that’s not actually a thing, Mom. You just don’t have any patience for it.”
“So what if I don’t?” she asked. “What do I need all that techno-stuff for? Give me a pen, some paper, and a piano, and I am happy.”
Julien looked at Stan with a suffering expression. “My mom the tech-hater.”
“I don’t hate it,” she said. “You love it, so I allow it in the house. But that doesn’t mean I like it.”
Given the fact that the Lyre devices could be used for such sinister purposes, Stan thought it was actually a good thing she wasn’t using one.
Once they’d finished eating, Stan thanked Ms. March for dinner, said goodbye to Julien, and headed home. He felt a little pang of sadness, leaving the warm vibrant March house to return to his own house. He reasoned that since Mr. March was still at work, his mom probably was, too.
He was surprised, then, to see the lights on when he got home, and he found his mom sitting at the kitchen table, hands waving as she worked with her Lyre device. He felt a pang of discomfort seeing his mom wearing a device that he knew could cause such suffering. He doubted he could convince his mom to put hers in a drawer.
But he was also grateful that he hadn’t come home to an empty house, after all.
“I hope you are not expecting me to make dinner for you when you come home so late,” she said without looking.
He laughed. His mother might not be as warm and boisterous as Ms. March, but that was OK. She was his mom.
“No, I ate at a friend’s house.”
“Oh yes?” She turned to him, looking pleased. “Already making friends and settling in?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess.”
“That is great. See? I told you this place would be good for us.”
Stan wasn’t sure he agreed that this place was good for them, but he really had made some good friends, so she wasn’t completely wrong either.
“Yeah, I, uh, even joined an after-school club.”
“What kind of club?”
“It’s, like, peer mentor stuff. We help out other kids.”
“Stanisław, that is such good news. I know you always want to help people, just like . . .”
Stan knew she wanted to say like your father, but she stopped short and just looked at him. He wasn’t the only one who had been hurting since his father’s death. His mom was all alone now. Not that he wanted a stepdad or anything. But he did feel bad for her.
“Anyway,” his mother said, “you have found a way to help people that does not use your fists.”
“Uh, yep.” If only she knew . . .
Wait, should he try to tell her what was going on? If she was one of those people on the subway trains, she could be riding right past a mad scientist lab without knowing it. Maybe she could help them do something about it. Assuming she believed him.
“Say, Mom, did you know that there’s a subway system in Springfield?”
“I would hardly call a single track a system, but yes, isn’t it great? DeCobray offers it to all employees, which reduces the carbon footprint of Springfield.” She sighed happily. “Such a great company. They give us so much.”
“Yeah . . .” Just looking at her contented expression, he knew there was no way she’d believe him. Not without proof.
She smiled and touched his cheek. “I’m so glad we moved here, Stanisław. Aren’t you?”
He noticed that she was still wearing her DeCobray employee badge. Except above her name wasn’t the DeCobray logo. Instead, it was that same red cobra symbol. The sight of it chilled him.
“You bet, Mom.” He forced a smile. “I’m thrilled to be here.”
CHAPTER
16
A REAL INTIMIDATING TOWN
Scarlett had said they should act like nothing was wrong. Stan knew that wouldn’t be easy, but he didn’t expect to be tested before he’d even entered the school.
He froze when he saw Anastasia waiting at the entrance to Springfield Academy.
“Good morning, Stanisław,” she said cheerfully, as though she hadn’t kicked him in the chest and called him a fool two nights ago.
“Oh, hey, good morning, Baroness,” he said, trying to hide his nervousness as he approached.
“I am sorry I wasn’t able to perform my duties as your peer orientation counselor yesterday, but school assembly days are always so hectic.”
“Sure, I understand.” He looked around nervously. “Michel isn’t with you?”
“No, it seems he was injured yesterday after school,” she said without a lot of concern. “Some sort of chemical burn. I’m afraid he won’t be coming to school for at least a few days.”
“Oh . . .” Stan felt a stab of guilt. He still thought Michel was a terrible person, of course. And he certainly hadn’t meant to spill that chemical. Even so, getting burned with acid wasn’t something he’d wish on his worst enemy.
Anastasia frowned. “Stanisław, you don’t seem to be wearing your Lyre device?”
“I was just about to put it in.” He hastily shoved his hand in his pocket and awkwardly removed the earbuds from the shielding bag before taking them out and putting them in his ears. He figured if she saw the bag, it might draw more suspicion.
“You don’t have to take your Lyre device off when you leave school,” she said. “In fact, they are designed in such a way that you don’t even need to take it off when you sleep.”
“Oh yeah, they’re very comfortable,” he agreed. “I took it off to, uh, shower and just forgot to put it back in.”
“Ah yes. Sadly they aren’t completely waterproof yet.”
“Real bummer,” he lied.
“It’s only a matter of time, of course,” she said.
“What a relief.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I assume you have been testing out the new Magica and Sciffy filters? Which do you prefer?”
“Um, I haven’t actually had a chance to try them out yet. You know, I’m focusing on my school work, and the filters can be a little distracting.”
“School work is important,” she said. “But now that you are a student of Springfield Academy, you enjoy the many advantages of the Lyre device, and you are therefore expected to do your part to improve it. If you find filters too distracting during your classes, I suggest you test them out in the evenings.”
“R-Right. Will do.”
“Excellent.” She paused, and her keen eyes drilled into his. “I look forward to hearing your detailed feedback.”
He smiled weakly. “Sure thing, Baroness.”
His eyes picked up on the student ID that his Lyre showed beside Anastasia. He’d gotten so used to the pop-ups that he barely even noticed them anymore. But now it occurred to him that all of the students had their hometowns listed. Except Anastasia. Why was that, he wondered.
“You had better get going, little Stanisław,” she said. “You don’t want to be late for your first class of the day.”
“You bet.”
He hurried inside, wondering just how much she knew, or at least suspected. He thought he’d played it fairly cool. But that didn’t mean he was in the clear. In fact, it sort of felt like she was toying with him . . .
Or maybe that was just his imagination. He really hoped so.
The first bell rang, which meant he had only five minutes to get to his first class. Being late would draw even more attention, so he began walking faster down the hallway.
“Hey, Stan, you doing OK?”
A man stood in the open doorway of a faculty office. The faculty offices had frosted glass instead of the oneway mirrors, so people couldn’t see inside. Stan didn’t know this particular faculty member, but his Lyre device told him that it was Dr. Conrad Hauser, School Guidance Counselor. The guidance counselor had a blond crew cut and a rugged, square-jawed face like an old-fashioned Hollywood movie star. He also looked sincerely concerned about Stan’s well-being. But after seeing what the principal of Springfield Academy was capable of, Stan wasn’t about to trust any faculty at the school.
“Uh, yeah, I’m OK, Dr. Hauser. Thanks.”
“Sorry, I know we haven’t met yet.” Hauser’s brow furrowed. “Look, it can be hard to adjust to a new school and a new town all at once like this, especially in the middle of the year at an institution that’s . . . well, a little unconventional. And I know it’s not easy to open up, especially to an adult you don’t know. But I’m always here if you need to talk to someone. Whatever we discuss will be confidential, strictly between you and me.”
