The Rogue Agent Read online

  On top of all that, it was technically a doctor's office, which made me uncomfortable—I have therapy to thank for that one. Instead, I used the lockers as support and hobbled down to the nearest girls' bathroom to have a look at it myself.

  The girls' bathroom was not better than the nurse's office, in terms of sight or smell. Between the old paint on the walls and the dim lighting from the one window by the top of the wall, it looked like a gray prison bathroom. The floor used to be white tile, but most of it was cracked and came undone. The mirrors were scratched up with graffiti.

  No one liked to spend any time in there. In fact, the only thing that was more unkempt than the girls' bathroom was the boys’ bathroom. You didn't even have to go inside to know that. But revolting or not, I was on a mission to not spend any time in the nurse's office, so I held my breath and walked in slowly.

  As I took my first step inside, I shivered. It was like walking into a full-size refrigerator—you could noticeably feel the difference in temperature. I convinced myself that the nurse's office was still worse and kept coming in. All the stalls were open, and nobody was at the sinks. Empty bathroom, I thought. Perfect. I leaned up against one of the mirrors while I rolled up my pant leg and took off my shoe. The dim lighting made it difficult to notice anything without squinting. The only real difference I saw was that the hurt foot looked swelled up. I hopped on my good foot over to the window to get a better look. But as I did, the light was blocked out by a shadow right above me. I looked up, and there it was again.

  The fog.

  “What are you doing here?!” I yelled in frustration.

  I couldn't believe it was back again. I didn't want to believe it really happened the first time; it didn't hold well for my “I'm not sick or crazy” argument. But I was ready this time. I pulled a blue paintbrush out of my gym shorts pocket. I didn't know if it would do anything, but it was worth a try. The fog let out a shriek. It must have remembered the paintbrushes.

  I smirked while crossing my fingers and silently praying that it wouldn't change into a funnel cloud and wreck the entire bathroom. I wouldn't stand a chance in this small of a space. It charged (can fog charge?) and launched a heavy lump of itself at me. I barely had time to duck before it flew over my head and into one of the bathroom windows with a CRASH! I turned around and looked. It was completely shattered.

  “Hey!” I yelled at the fog.

  “The school’s probably gonna make me replace that—”

  All of a sudden, my heartbeat slowed. My body felt tired, as if all my emotion had been drained right out of me. I looked down at my arm, and saw a piece of the fog stuck to my arm.

  Great, I thought. I didn't dodge it at all.

  On top of that, my body was feeling twice as heavy now. I dropped to one knee, trying to avoid the shards of broken glass as I went down. The blue paintbrush fell out of my hands.

  The fog towered over me from the window at the corner of the room. I didn't know what to do. I wondered if it would come drain my body of blood the same way it took my energy or something. I didn't even have enough energy to scream, let alone to fight if off if it came closer.

  “What do you want with me and my sister?” I asked, my voice slurring the words together. The first time it came, it attacked Chloe. Now, both times today, it looked like I was the target. Part of me wondered what the fog's true goal was. The other part of me decided I was going crazy for believing fog had a goal. It inched closer, and all I could think about was if my sister was okay. It occurred to me that if I was attacked twice, Chloe might have been in danger too.

  As I thought that, the fog seemed to come to its own conclusion. It flew out of the bathroom and into the hallway. I held back a scream. It could wreck the whole school. But that wouldn't make any sense. Unless…

  It must have been going after Chloe.

  I took in a sharp breath. If anything, I decided that was worse. I put my shoe back on and narrowly avoided killing myself as I tripped on a piece of glass on the way out of the bathroom. Stupid hurt foot, I thought.

  I scanned the hallway for the fog, and I saw it barreling for the front door. I started to run after it, but I only managed a few steps before pain flared up from my ankle. I put my arm out to balance myself against the lockers and limped as fast as I could after the fog, yelling, “It's all your fault, you—”

  KKKSSSHCKT!

  The school bell blared over the loudspeakers. Doors flew open and teenagers started streaming into the hall, hollering and running to get out of the building. Someone bumped into me from behind, and I stumbled forward. It took all the energy still in me to keep from falling over. When I caught myself, I looked up to a sea of teenagers blocking my way. I pushed through them, trying to keep my eyes on the fog. All I could think about was reaching Chloe in time.

  The big front doors to the school were pushed open, and I caught a glimpse of the fog shooting out like it was sucked into the open air, until it disappeared from my sight. Somehow, no one seemed to notice.

  Someone bumped me again. I landed on my right foot and more pain shot up my leg. I gritted my teeth, and kept pushing past kids until I made it outside. I walked down the steps and looked around for the fog, but it was gone again, just as quickly as it showed up. I didn't miss a beat. I started down the sidewalk to Chloe's side of the campus. I hoped I would make it in time.

  “Lucy, wait!”

  Now what?! I stopped and turned around.

  Anna was up at the steps, holding up my backpack and my art bag. A part of me was relieved, but I gestured for her to come with me so I could keep moving down the sidewalk. I was panting hard now. The fog sapping my energy must have taken more than I thought.

  “Phew,” Anna sighed as she caught up with me. “You’ve only got one good foot and I still almost didn’t catch up to you.”

  Let me know how fast you move when your family’s in trouble, I thought. She handed me my art bag and I slung it over my shoulder.

  “What happened in gym class?” she asked. “Is your foot alright? And where are you going in such a hurry?”

  “That's not important now. Chloe's in trouble.” I said to her.

  “That smoke stuff?”

  “It's fog!” Why was that so hard to understand? They were two different colors.

  “Lucy, hold on.” She stopped running and grabbed my hand, pulling me to a stop. I tried to pull away, but I was too weak. She gave me a worried look.

  “Are you sure you're okay?”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. Anna started fidgeting and she wouldn't make eye contact.

  “Anna.” I said in a stern voice. I couldn't be wasting time. If she was gonna answer, now was the time.

  “I mean, did you actually, you know...see the fog?”

  I gave her a confused look. Her grip loosened and I pulled free.

  “Anna, this is the worst timing for this. I need to get to my sister, now.” I took a step forward and stopped when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

  “Lucy?” Anna's voice was faltering now.

  I pulled it out and looked at the name.

  I picked up the phone to my ear and said, “What do you need, Dad?”

  There was a pause followed by a deep breath, and then I heard my Dad's voice over the phone:

  “It's Chloe. She's in the hospital.”

  4. A Taxi Driver Helps Me Escape The Law

  I took a step back.

  Anna held out her hands as if to keep me from falling. “What did he say?” she asked.

  “It's my sister,” I answered in a small voice. “Anna, I need to go. I'll call you tonight.”

  “Uhh, okay, Lucy,” she yelled. “Be careful!”

  I turned around and ran to the corner of the sidewalk, ignoring the pain in my foot. If anything, it kept me awake. I couldn't believe I didn't make it in time. I only hoped she wasn’t...I buried the thought.

  I stood at the corner of the sidewalk, and looked up at the sky. It smelled like rain, and the
clouds looked really heavy again. I looked over at the front of Chloe's school. There were two figures standing by the gate. The one facing me was Chloe's schoolteacher. I couldn't recognize the other, who had his back to me. But he was wearing some kind of uniform. Then he turned around. I gasped. It was the cop from the park. What was he doing here? He nodded to the teacher and walked away from her—and towards me.

  My heart started to beat fast. I had no idea what he wanted with me, but I knew that I wanted nothing to do with him. Cop or no, I didn't trust people I didn’t know. It was how I kept from getting depressed or hurt again.

  I looked down the street behind the cop. There was a yellow taxicab coming this way. Now, while I consistently avoid getting into a car that does not have my dad as the driver, I decided getting to my sister would be more important than waiting for him. That and I panicked when the cop started jogging.

  “I can't believe I'm about to do this...” I said to myself.

  I waved it down. It passed the cop and pulled up to the corner. I quickly jumped in.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  I looked out the window. The cop was running now. He looked anxious, like me getting into the cab meant something horrible for him. He started yelling something I couldn't make out. I peeled my eyes from the window and put my head down so he couldn't see me.

  “The hospital,” I answered the driver, “and fast.”

  He floored it, quickly turning the corner of the school and putting the cop further out of view. As he sped on, rain started to fall again outside my window. After a couple minutes of silence, the driver chuckled to himself.

  “Some people, right, kid? I dunno what that cop was thinkin'.” His voice sounded like he let a cat hang from his throat; all gruff and gurgled. I wasn’t exactly eager to answer him.

  “Right...I guess.” I mumbled quietly.

  The driver looked at me through his rear view mirror. I shot my eyes down to avoid eye contact. “You alright there, kid?” he asked.

  “I'm just in a hurry,” I answered, my hands fidgeting in my lap. I found myself turning around to look out the window for the cop again. “It's an emergency.”

  The driver nodded.

  “Say no more.” he said.

  We shot forward down the street, and he didn't stop until we pulled up at the front of the hospital.

  “That'll be 13 dollars even, kid.”

  I reached into my pocket and cursed. I was still in my gym shorts. My wallet was in my other pants.

  “My dad is inside. I'll get him to come out and handle it.” I told him sheepishly.

  “I hope so,” the driver said in a frustrated voice. “I ain't got all day to sit in the rain.”

  I wanted to take that personal, since the rain was the only good thing that happened today. It was calming me down. Otherwise, I would never been able to survive the cab. But I didn't want to give the driver any more reason to be upset.

  I grabbed my bags and left the taxi behind for the hospital.

  ✽✽✽

  When I opened the door, I felt the overwhelming urge to curl up into a ball.

  You know how pharmaceutical buildings always have their decorations around the building to try to uplift the atmosphere? The doctor's office plastered with cartoon heroes and stickers or the many aquariums found in the dentist's office; all to keep you calm and hopeful, despite whatever reason you have to be there?

  This hospital didn't have that at all.

  Inside, everything looked dreary. The walls were gray and bare. There wasn't any background music or television playing in the lobby, and hardly anyone talking. All of the employees at the front desk looked like they were ready to fall over any second and not get up. (I was right there with them.) I was pretty sure they wouldn't be any help.

  I put my hands in my pockets and tried to ignore all of the gloominess as I looked around for Dad.

  I didn't see him until I glanced past the front lobby and down a hallway that seemed to stretch on forever. There was nothing different than the lobby except a couple chairs that were placed in no apparent direction near each door. About halfway down the hall, I could see him pacing back and forth. My stomach did a flip. I hoped it wasn't a bad sign for Chloe. I ran down to meet him, my foot numb with pain.

  When I got closer, I could see he wasn't just pacing. He was on the phone.

  That set me off.

  I walked up to him and snatched it out of his hand.

  “Lucy, what are you doing?” he asked, looking at me like I was insane, and to be completely honest with you, I was feeling a little unstable.

  “I have a very important person on the phone,” he explained.

  “What about the very important daughter you have who's in a hospital room?” I shouted back at him.

  “There's nothing I can do for Chloe right now,” he said. “I was in the middle of a conference as it was. I already had to leave once. Now give me my phone back.”

  “No way!” I shouted, pulling the phone close to me. “You couldn't even stay on the phone long enough with me to say what was wrong with Chloe! You don't even care.” I threw his phone in the nearest wastebasket.

  “That's not—”

  “You know who would have cared?” I said, on a roll now. “Lucas. He would be in there with Chloe right now, whether he could do anything or not.”

  “I—” Dad stammered and closed his mouth. He looked shocked. I wanted to believe it was at what I said, but it was more than likely about his phone. That made me even more upset.

  Avoiding his gaze, I looked up at the door behind him. It read “HALE, C” in a pathetically faded shade of blue.

  I pushed past him and started to walk into the room. He put his hand on my shoulder and I stopped.

  “How did you get here so fast?” he asked in a small, contained voice. I winced.

  “I...I took a cab.” I said.

  “Hey,” he said in a poorly executed cheerful tone. I could hear the forced smile in his voice, and the dreary walls weren't helping much either. “That's progress, Luce—”

  “But I have no money,” I cut him off. “He's waiting outside for you.”

  I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and went into the room, closing the door behind me.

  5. A Cop Breaks Up My Hospital Throwdown

  I walked into the room so quickly; I stumbled over a stool, knocking something onto the ground.

  I couldn't even see what it was, since—if possible—all of the lights in the room were dimmer and drearier than in the lobby. Most of the room's light came from the monitors in the corner. The only one I recognized was the heartbeat sensor. It beeped every second. I let out a breath of relief. Chloe was alive. So what did the fog do?

  Next to the heartbeat sensor was an IV drip. I steeled myself to follow the cord full of liquid to the bed—where Chloe lay, not moving. Whether she was unconscious or asleep, I couldn't tell. I pushed the stool over to Chloe's bed and sat down.

  Staring at her closed eyes, I felt an ache in my chest. I broke my gaze, mumbling to the empty room. “I could blame it on the climbing rope, you know.”

  No response. Every second in silence felt like hours.

  “Or my lame injured foot.” I continued. “Even Anna stopped me from making it there in time. But really, it was my own…”

  A lump grew in my throat and I stopped. I looked back up at her and brushed my hand on her face.

  “Aah!” I pulled my hand back instantly.

  Chloe's skin was cold to the touch. I instinctively reached for the blankets to cover her up, but her body was already wrapped up in them. All I could think about was the fog. Did it do this to her? Did you just fall asleep and get cold when it sapped up all your energy? Why was it here in the first place?

  I looked down at the ground, and I saw what I knocked over earlier; the doctor's clipboard. The monitors made this side of the room a little easier to see. I picked it up and read the top of the diagnosis sheet:

  NAME: HALE, CH
LOE P.

  PATIENT DIAGNOSIS: COMATOSE.

  CAUSE: REASON UNKNOWN.

  A coma.

  The stupid fog put my little sister into a coma.

  I set the clipboard on the floor and shoved it with my good foot into the corner of the room.

  Emotions churned around in my stomach. Rage was quickly building for the fog. I knew at some point it would be back for me, too. Pity and guilt sat like a rock in my stomach for Chloe. If I didn't go and bust my foot, I could've been there to help her. Then there was anger at Dad for...everything.

  It felt like he wasn't on the same page as us, even when his daughter was unconscious in a hospital bed. His words echoed in my ears, “There's nothing I can do for her right now.”

  I pushed the thought out of my head. There was always something you could do. In fact, I had an idea. My paintbrushes.

  I still had no clue how the orange ones exploded, but if they could do that, maybe one would reverse the effects of the coma. I bent over and reached down into my art bag, looking for a color to draw suns with. I wished I still had at least one orange brush.

  Now, I know what you're thinking: Yo, genius, suns are yellow.

  My answer to you is: I don't care.

  I wasn't using yellow. That color did not mix well with me. (No pun intended.) I refused to use it. Instead, I dug around in the bag, hoping for something that would help Chloe, if even a little bit.

  Chloe was the only one who believed in my ability to paint on a whole different level than anyone I knew. When we were younger, I would paint on the driveway slab, and she would always tell me to paint forests. I would just laugh and continue my special paintings. But she would keep asking. One day, I finally asked her why. She told me, “Your paint is amazing. I bet a forest would sprout up right under your feet if you painted it.”

  Every day after that, I would always draw a little tree or a part of a forest for her. Today was supposed to be the leaf on my arm. A long time ago, I wanted to stop, but my little sister's encouragement kept me going. After Dad got busy and Mom left; even after Lucas was gone, I still did it. It reminded me of when I used to be there for Lucas to encourage him.