Chapter forty-eight

In the past, it was never easy staying so undetected all the time. Now it's just second-nature.

Unpleasant memories of my past surface. The ones that bring back the sensation of always being on an uncontrollable roller coaster, the ones where my hair is constantly being tugged at viciously, and the ones where dark corners hide not only shadows but demons with a thousand claws on their hands, reaching towards me.

I smile at my past-self. When my top priorities for the day were:

One: Making it to school undetected.

Two: Finding the perfect routes through the hallways to avoid the unkind kids.

Three: Choosing a different hiding spot in school each day for lunch.

Four: Sprinting home before anyone can see which way I go.

By the time I reached high school, sneaking around was easy. A skill that was ever-present in my life, and oftentimes used at inappropriate moments that ended up just embarrassing me. I used to hate having to do that, but am I grateful for being bullied now that I am part of an organisation that requires experts on that skill? Yes.

The dusty and outdoorsy scent of the bricks in my nostrils, the rough cement beneath the pads of my fingers, and the free-feeling of being up on the tips of my toes. The thrill of all this is my charge.

My instructor always informed me how good of a spy I was, constantly drowning me in flattering fame in front of my peers. But I could never beat one person. And I don't think I will ever beat him. So when he passes me today, I think he'll feel my presence, or see it, and I'll be exposed, but to no one but him. Which, to me, isn't much of a loss at all.

"I told you not to," the female voice says. In range, closeby: not safe to look… yet.

"And I said I wanted to give it to your mum," Harry replies, also nearby. I can't reveal myself if he doesn't know I'm here. He might be too surprised to see me and give me away. And we can't risk that.

A pause. Perhaps an awkward silence. Perhaps a friendly gesture. I hope not more. Then: "Just promise me you'll give it to her?"

Another silence. Perhaps filled by the girl's nods. "How could I not?" A second later: "She'll love it."

I'm hoping Harry is receiving my telepathic communication for him to move further away so I can get away from this wall and take a break from looking like a lurking-lunatic, and he somehow answers my call, saying to the target, "Hm, do you wanna head over there? I saw some other souvenirs you could get," he offers.

I close my eyes, pretending to listen intently to the music definitely sounding from my earphones, but really I'm listening as two pairs of footsteps fade slowly into the sound of the rest of the crowd. Then I pull myself away from the wall and follow the direction of Harry and the target.

Slipping between backpacks and shoulders, broad and small, I finally spot Harry's chestnut-coloured hair, and silently slide by him, rubbing shoulders with him as I pass. It's simple, and easily missed, but Harry knows that that's our code for when we want to make our presence known to each other. He's never missed it once. But when I turn around to glance at him, he's unfazed, continuing to speak comfortably with the target.

I scrunch my nose. Perhaps he isn't reacting because he doesn't want to be suspicious, but from what I can see, he really didn't notice anything. My shoulder rub blended in completely with the hundreds of shoulder rubs he's felt throughout the day, and I curse at the tourists and at Harry for being careless.

No worries, I'll just need to find another way, I think to myself. I can do that.

"This is too cute!" the target exclaims, picking up a small wooden doll with flexible limbs connected by string. "Georgia would love this!"

"Georgia?"

"My sister," the target responds.

"Do you want me to get it for you?"

"No, no!"

She really puts up a good act with everything, I'm honestly surprised that Harry isn't losing it. He must be having a hard time with this mission. I promise myself to give him a hug the next time I see him.

Target places the doll down, and moves on down the stall, beginning to speak to the owner in broken French which I barely understand. I may be skilled in sneaking around, but languages are definitely not my strong point.

Harry takes the target's place and begins to cradle the doll in his hands, and the scene seems a little pitiful, and I want him to stop, but I am suddenly hit with an idea.

Harry glances up, asking the owner, "How much is this doll?"

"Six francs," the owner replies with a thick French accent.

"Harry, want to go now?" Target calls out.

Swiftly, Harry leans forwards and murmurs, "I'll be back for it later," before placing it back in the pile and disappearing through the crowd.

Perfect opportunity for me.

As I pull out a notepad from my bag, I'm starting to think that Harry did know that I was there, he was just too subtle about it. And I really gotta hand it to him, Harry is one-hundred percent the best spy from our whole recruitment, despite being the latest one to join the organisation.

0606

7

Sunset photos with friends, replaced by an embrace under the young sun

I step past the store, laying my eyes upon the several beautifully-carved items for sale. I approach, enthralled by the creations. I trail my fingers slowly over many knick-knacks, but stop at the doll. I pick it up in my hands, caressing it the same as Harry.

"Erm, sorry, we – uh – have that on reserve for a customer."

I look up at the owner, smiling. "Oh, that's alright."

Then I slide the note between the limbs of the doll and put it down.