Odilinde is a teenage spy, working with his two teenage sisters, and a new mission sends him into a high school to grow close with some rich kid… and sneak right into his birthday party.
WORD COUNT: 3.7k GENRE: Spy/Adventure AGE RATING: 16+
WARNINGS: Explicit Language, Mild Violence
***
Odilinde was at peace.
In his lap, he had his book: a historical-fiction novel set in the late nineteenth century, as he had been slowly crawling back in time through the literature he consumed over the last few weeks.
The 2020s.
The 2010s.
The 2000s.
The 1990s.
The 1980s.
The 1970s.
The 1960s.
And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before. And before.
All of that was between work, of course.
Odilinde had much to do.
However, right now, for once, Odilinde was at peace.
Gentle music echoed through the air: a classical playlist of his choice, while his associate, Lavinia – a girl of seventeen, only a year older than he, himself, was – worked on knitting a new sweater.
It was peaceful, truly peaceful.
An elegant pianist as an accompaniment to the soft clicking of needles and the softer flipping of pages.
Lavinia was the only people he could tolerate sharing a room with while he read, and for good reason. Together, Odilinde and Lavinia and the crackle of the radio were all, truly, at peace.
The gentle flip of a page.
The gentle click-clacking of knitting needles.
The gentle saying of classical music.
When had Odilinde last been so at peace?
It had been far too long; that was all he knew.
Working as a spy was hardly a peaceful job, but there had been the faintest lull in their exploits, and Odilinde appreciated that. Parkour was hard on the limbs and screens were had on the eyes.
Adjusting the glasses that sat on his nose, he reached across the table, taking his tea into his tea-coloured hand and sipping at it, finding immediate pleasure in the warmth of it.
For once, his heart’s rhythm was gentle and slow…
…until the door burst open, and the youngest of the trio, fifteen-year-old Yva Dusste, tripped through, falling on her face with a thud that should have broken her nose, though there had been no crack.
Odilinde stared down at her.
She groaned.
And Odilinde slammed his book shut, placing it on the table as Lavinia squeaked, dropping her needles and wool.
A moment passed.
Two. Three.
And then Odilinde sighed heavily, pushing his book and tea to the middle of the table, just to avoid the mishaps of the klutz. He crossed his arms against his chest, looking upon Yva with annoyance in his eyes.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked flatly.
Another moment passed.
Another two. Another three.
Yva popped her head up, presenting a scrap of paper that Odilinde recognised as having come from head-office. “Guys! Guys! Guys! Guys! Guys! Guys! Guys! We have a new mission! We get to be spies again! Also, related, I need to find the coolest, most fiery-looking suit you have ever seen in your whole damn life.”
Bewilderment clouded Odilinde’s gaze.
It was soon smothered by the narrowing of eyes.
“Why?” he asked, slow and suspicious.
“Rich-kid birthday-party!” announced Yva, punching at the air.
Odilinde and Lavinia exchanged a long look…
…and then Odilinde sighed. “Rich-kid birthday-party,” he deadpanned. “I suppose you have more information than just that?”
Yva was unperturbed. “Rich-kid birthday-party. Evil parents. Plans to download from a big old fancy computer.”
Again, she punched the air.
“Rich-kid birthday-party!”
Softly, Lavinia echoed, “rich-kid birthday-party.”
***
Admiring himself in the mirror, Odilinde looked good in his new suit, he decided, with his dark hair combed neatly, his brown skin smooth and pristine, and his glasses replaced with the tinted kind. They hid his eyes from anyone who may or may not have recognised him.
An unlikely event, but not an impossibility.
“You’re looking dapper,” said Lavinia, and Odilinde glanced back over his shoulder at her, in her soft pink-and-white dress, matching her bleached afro-puff space-buns, and enough makeup to make her look like some kind of fairytale creature.
Sparkling with innumerable patches and layers of pastel pink-and-white glitter, she was, frankly, adorable.
Odilinde’s sister in every way but blood.
And Yva, of course, the chaos demon that she was, was in the brightest orange suit he had ever seen, matching her twin braids and those eyes that had never seemed quite dark enough to be brown.
The party had no idea what was about to hit them.
Odilinde almost pitied his enemies, really.
Yva was more than a handful.
And when Odilinde wanted to be, he was worse.
***
“You can do this, Odilinde,” said Odilinde to himself, facing the bathroom mirror now, adjusting his dark blue bowtie and then adjusting his glasses, again and again and again. “You’re an intelligent young man and you’ll soon take your place as the leader of his place. You’re going to impress everything, okay? You’re going to be the best spy of them all. You’re going to be the best. You’re going to be the best. You’re going to be the best. You’re going to be the best. You’re going to be the best. You’re going to be the best. You’re going to be the best.”
His hands gripped the sink.
He could do this. He could do this. He could do this.
He could definitely do this.
He could—
“Odi!” Yva banged on the door, so aggressive that she might as well have been trying to break through. “Are you talking to yourself again?”
Odilinde’s face burned.
Immediately, he shouted back, “no!”
A moment passed, before, all of a sudden, the door was kicked open, flying off its hinges and nearly hitting Odilinde. Half of it landed inside of the bathtub, splinters spewing in every direction.
Odilinde shielded his face with the armour below his suit, sliding halfway down the wall before he flashed a glare at her. “Yva!”
As always, Yva did not look ashamed.
Instead, she grinned down at him, hands on hips. “We can’t go to the party straight away, dummy. High security and all that, you know?”
Odilinde stared at her.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
And then he narrowed his eyes. “What are we going to do them?” he asked, words slow and untrusting, as he always was to her.
Yva’s grin did not fade, nor did his suspicion. “We’re joining the rich kid’s high-school first. Then, we’ll actually get invited to the party, without setting off any suspicions at all!”
A moment passed.
Two. Three.
And then Odilinde sighed. “Whose year is he in?”
***
“Everyone, say a great big ‘hello’ to our newest student, Odilinde Noire!” announced the teacher whose name he had already forgotten, patting Odilinde on the back with more force that she’d probably meant to, sending him stumbling forwards a few steps.
His hip caught on the corner of a desk, and he hissed in pain, almost losing his glasses in the process, before he straightened as if lightning-struck, firm-faced and hiding his embarrassment.
Many of his fellow students chuckled, but Odilinde didn’t let himself wince at the spike of pain, as he was quite used to pain – he was supposed to be, at least. Yva liked to leave Lego bricks everywhere, everywhere, literally everywhere for him to stumble and stomp on.
Pain was his best friend.
Second only to Lavinia.
The teacher placed a hand upon his shoulder. “I’m sorry! Oh, I’m so sorry, honey. I don’t know my own strength, huh? Are you alright? You look hurt! Do you need the nurse?”
Odilinde gritted his teeth. “No, ma’am.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She furrowed her brow. “Well, I’m sorry anyway. I’m sorry—”
And Odilinde decided, now, to ignore her, instead fixing his gaze onto the only empty desk in the room, beside his exact target: a silent young man with pale skin and his black hair in a single braid.
Lucah Shot.
Odilinde waited a moment, just for the teacher to stop talking, before he strode across the room, put his bag down, and sat at the desk.
The rich kid didn’t look his way.
But Odilinde wasn’t the kind of boy who gave up quickly.
***
Lucah hated most things, it seemed.
School. Homework. Dogs. Werewolves. Romcoms. Children. Guns. Pop music. Mermaids. Old people. Hamsters. Buildings. The ground. The earth. The concept of war. The concept of peace. Anybody that questioned anything he said. Anybody that showed too great of an interest in him. Anybody who looked at him funny. Anybody.
Anybody at all.
And so… Odilinde took advantage of that.
“God,” he said, slumped over the desk beside Lucah, acting bored even when this subject was interesting, “I hate everyone here. The other students are all so fucking stupid.”
Lucah didn’t say anything.
But he twitched.
Odilinde continued. “And the teachers are the worst. Don’t they know we don’t care about any of this?”
A grunt of affirmation.
“I’d rather eat a person than cafeteria food. And the principal must hate us if some buildings have no air conditioning but some buildings have no heating. I swear, I have to pack two outfits every day!”
Lucah snorted.
Odilinde’s lips quirked.
Lucah hated most things, but when Odilinde acted as if he hated a lot of things, too… it grew far easier to stick by him.
Everything was something to complain about.
Everything. Everything. Everything.
Even Odilinde found the depth of his hatred astounding.
But there was one thing that Lucah didn’t hate, though the other boy hadn’t spoken about it yet, though Odilinde had picked up on it.
It hadn’t be hard, but Lucah had no other friends, so Odilinde had to have been the very first to know; Lucah had the biggest, biggest, biggest, biggest, biggest, biggest, biggest crush on a guy in Lavinia’s year.
And so, subtly, as he slid into the seat beside Lucah’s in the crowded cafeteria, Odilinde commented, “you know, Lucah. I heard there’s an upperclassman who’s interested in you.”
Lucah straightened on the spot. “What? Who?”
“I think…” Odilinde pretended to consider it. He drummed his fingers on the table. “Well, my sister’s a senior, and she’s heard someone named… Dar… Dac…”
“Dackon?”
Odilinde snapped his fingers. “That’s the name.”
Lucah’s eyes were wide. “He’s interested in me?”
As if he hadn’t noticed the obvious crush, Odilinde shrugged. “Yeah, Dackon. Lavinia overheard him telling some blonde girl about the underclassman he’s interested in, and she said it sounded a lot like you.”
Lucah went silent.
A moment passed.
Two; Three.
And then, slowly, Lucah nodded.
Pensive.
***
They had actually been invited to the party!
It had worked!
It had fucking worked!
It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked. It had worked.
Odilinde had an invite in his hands.
Complete with two plus-ones.
It had fucking worked.
***
Combed hair. Tinted glasses. Dark suit. Black bowtie. Pristine shoes. A secret weapon in each of his pockets and sleeves. A hard drive for each of them, for downloading what they needed to download.
Odilinde looked perfect, if he did say so himself.
White space-puns. Delicate makeup. A masquerade mask. A lacy dress. Pretty gloves. Jewellery that could record sight and sound and scent, if it was potent and powerful enough.
Lavinia looked adorable. Unthreatening.
Two ginger braids. Green ribbons. An orange suit. Emerald accessories. Smoke bombs the size of pills. A lighter that could set anything, even technology, aflame.
Yva looked like she was interviewing to be a children’s cartoon character, but that was passable enough for a fifteen-year-old.
And they were ready.
They were ready.
***
Into the party, they crept…
…though they didn’t actually need to creep, really, as they had invitations printed on holographic paper, presenting them to the guards on either side of the front doors, as two needed to confirm the invitations for it to be deemed safe enough.
“I think everyone’s been invited,” hissed Yva into Odilinde’s ear, her breaths tickling his neck and making him bat her aside. “Did we need you to befriend the weird weirdo?”
Odilinde elbowed her. “I think the extra guests were a last-minute addition. I might be the only person he actually invited.”
Yva snorted. “Like I said. A weird weirdo.”
Rolling his eyes, Odilinde decided to ignore her.
They didn’t need to creep into the party, not really, but they crept in the sense that they were subtle about it: quiet and normal and not standing out in the slightest. They didn’t stand out in the slightest as they crept into the giant ballroom filled with… far more people than Odilinde had thought Lucah had known.
And in the corner, scowling at everybody, it certainly seemed that Lucah hated most of – if not all – of this.
Distantly, Odilinde was sympathetic.
But now was not the time for that, really.
He and his siblings split up.
Through the party, Yva crept, and Odilinde kept her in the corner of his gaze at all times… finding that she really wasn’t the best at creeping, as she seemed to speak to everybody – literally everybody – she passed, laughing with strangers and joking at bodyguards, and, unfortunately, bringing smiles to too many people’s faces.
That was her own way of blending in, really.
She didn’t stick around for long.
She blended right in with the joyous crowd.
Odilinde almost respected it, but Odilinde would never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never admit that aloud.
Not even under the threat of death.
Through the party, Lavinia, too, crept.
Unlike Yva, Lavinia actually crept.
And, too, through the party, Odilinde crept, actually crept.
It didn’t take long for the crowd to move in such a manner as to expose Lucah again, talking to the older teenager – Dackon? Yes, his name was Dackon – that Odilinde wasn’t even sure knew his name at all. But Dackon didn’t seem to be saying anything, so it was hard to tell whether he’d told Lucah that little fact or nothing at all.
Odilinde watched, for a moment, and then decided to ignore them
Through the party, he continued to creep.
He pressed bugs under tables, and he inched as close to the guards as he could without alerting suspicion, and he especially inched closer when they muttered and muttered and muttered amongst themselves.
“The boss says…”
“…why do we have to…”
“Anyone seen that Lucah kid?”
“He’s—”
“Yeah, he’s pathetic.”
“People are only here for…”
“People are only here for…”
“People are only here for…”
“People are only here for…”
“People are only here for…”
“People are only here for…”
“People are only here for…”
Odilinde’s lips curled into the deepest of snarls, his hands clenching and unclenching again and again and again… but Odilinde didn’t look at them, just as he knew they didn’t look at him.
He as meant to be subtle. He was meant to creep.
And so, he did so.
Creeping with light feet.
Creeping with quick hands.
Creeping with ears that heard all.
He crept and he crept and he crept, before he finally found his spot, and he looked across the ballroom. His eyes locked with Yva’s.
They both stilled.
And then Odilinde nodded.
Yva leapt onto a table, boots crashing glasses and plates and sending the punchbowl to the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. People shrieked as fruit stained their expensive clothes, and Yva only grinned and grinned and grinned… and started to sing at the very top of her lungs. Her arms outstretched like she was drunk, utterly drunk, and Odilinde almost started laughing,
But he didn’t.
He was better than that.
Everybody looked to her, absolutely everybody.
Odilinde slid behind a guard who had taken a few steps in Yva’s direction, towards the side door, but not all the way over to the side door, stopping a few feet away. Instead, he watched Lavinia.
Blending in as she tended to, Lavinia slipped over to the side door from the other side, not even looking at Odilinde as she did so. She unlocked it with a key she had stolen, easy and swift, before scurrying away, melting back into the crowd without alerting anybody at all that the door had been unlocked: guarded, but unlocked.
Yva continued to be the perfect distraction…
…until the moment that Odilinde made it to the side door that Lavinia had unlocked, and he slipped right inside.
Easy.
Down the hallways.
He avoided guards, most of whom attending the party.
He passed closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and closed doors and—
And he reached it.
The right room.
With the massive computer inside.
Odilinde scurried over to it, yanking the drive out of his pocket and plugging it in, typing and typing and typing as neon letters flashed across the screen, coming in shades of green and red and blue.
Downloading. Downloading. Downloading.
He had to download it—
And, all of a sudden, the alarms went off.
***
Odilinde sprinted down the hallway.
Guards burst from closed doorways.
Batons were swung and guns were fired.
Odilinde dodged them all.
“Get back here!” shouted a man with a distorted voice, clearing using something to warp his words and mask his identity. “Get the fuck back over here, kid, or it’ll get real nasty for you!”
Odilinde ignored them.
He leapt onto a side table just as somebody lunged, and he jumped over their head, landing on the carpet with a roll and continuing to race, race, race down the hallway, out of the side door, and into the main ballroom, still chased by a dozen armed guards.
“Fuck,” hissed Odilinde. “Fuck!”
As soon as Yva spotted him, she leapt from the table, onto a chair, before hitting the ground and joining him as he chased.
People yelped and dove out of the way; some people even tried to stop her, to stop him. But nobody could, whether they wielded bats or batons or lasers or even guns. Nobody could stop them.
Lavinia snuck towards the back, blending in with the commotion, like she was but a normal girl. But as Odilinde deliberately dropped the drive from his sleeve, he kicked it swiftly across the room, dodging feet and chairs and tables, and she caught it.
Confrontation had never been her strong suit.
And that was why she was the one with the stolen data.
And why Yva was the distraction.
And why Odilinde, as he screeched around a corner—
—he slammed right into Lucah Shot.
They both tumbled to the floor with twin yelps, Lucah hitting his head and Odilinde barely managing not to slam his own into the wall, losing his glasses in the process.
Fuck. Odilinde was almost blind without his glasses!
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Odilinde slapped at the ground, searching for them, his heart pounding against his ribcage, threatening to break—
His glasses were shoved into his hand.
He shoved them onto his face.
And he locked gazes with the wild-eyed Lucah Shot.
A moment passed.
Two. Three.
And then something hardened on Lucah’s face. “You need to get out of here,” he said. And he did not say anything else.
Another moment passed.
Another two. Another three.
And then Odilinde grabbed Lucah by the wrist and dragged him with him, ignoring whether the other boy actually wanted to join him or not.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
***
Lucah Shot sat, tied to a chair in their basement.
And he did not make a sound.
He didn’t make a sound.
But when, eventually, he did part his lips, he said, “let me join you.”
And who were they to deny him?
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