Double Vision (5 page)

He's lactose intolerant (maybe his enemy could kill him with milk?).

Imagine if you got a glimpse at a robotlike super version of yourself. You'd feel like a loser, right? That's how I felt for sure.

So I tossed the file aside. TV was more my style anyway. The hotel had a decent-sized flat screen TV setup, and I popped in the DVD. It seemed like some kind of training video, because there were these buzzwords that popped up every once in a while.

Focus. Commitment. Dedication
.

I rolled my eyes. There was Benjamin Green, of course, at junior agent training camp, the successful graduate showing a scrawny-looking redheaded boy how to do a push-up. Next, he timed the same redheaded kid with a stopwatch, shaking his head because the kid wasn't going fast enough. And later, he showed some girl how to read a map. Then he shook her hand, like the rock star he was.

I yawned. My lousy night's sleep was catching up with me. And, as hard as I tried, my eyes just didn't seem to focus. I dozed off into a deep sleep, the kind that makes you drool on your pillow.

I dreamed of sunshine, the rays dancing on the pool waves, making it hard to see. I was in my regular clothes, but for some reason, I thought it was a good idea to swim. I was underwater, happy, enjoying the nice quiet, until I saw a pair of angry eyes. Brown hair in a ponytail, dangling above me.

And I got another splash of cold water on my face.

“Hey!”

“Wake up!” Agent Stark pulled away. “You're supposed to be studying.”

I wiped away the water. “I was studying. But the movie was boring, and all those blacked-out parts in the files were making my eyes glaze over.”

“That's the top secret stuff they blacked out for you.”

“Very helpful.”

“Here.” Agent Stark dropped two big shopping bags on the bed. She rolled a new suitcase into a corner.

I pulled two pairs of black cargo pants, black polo shirts, and a knitted black pullover out of the bags. “Am I joining the goth squad? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not color-blind.” I pointed at my more colorful California garb.

Agent Stark looked me in the eyes. “Who are you?”

I knew what she wanted me to say, but instead I extended my hand with a smile. “Lincoln Baker, pleased to meet you.”

She sighed. “We have a long way to go.” Agent Stark dug inside one of the bags and pulled out a box of hair dye. There was a pretty lady on the front with white streaks in her hair—she looked like a zebra, to tell you the truth. “Come on. We can at least make you look like Benjamin Green.”

It wasn't until I followed her to the bathroom that I got it. “The blond streak.”

“That's right.” Agent Stark opened the box and mixed some powder with liquid until the whole place reeked.

“You're not going to put this on my head, are you?”

Agent Stark looked at me, squinting a little from the strong chemical smell. “This is dangerous business. If you have any doubts, now's the time to bow out, Linc. Once we put this junk in your hair and we send you into the field, there's no going back.”

“I get it.” I thought of Dad, in his nice suit, applying for a job at Meineke—because of me. “I'm in, okay?”

She stepped even closer, and given that we were in the bathroom, that was close enough for me to smell the coffee on her breath. “Do you get how important this is? You were napping on top of your research material, Lincoln.”

“It's Benjamin,” I said, looking at myself in the mirror. “I'm Benjamin Green.” Then I said something that I never thought I would ever say in my life. “Let's color my hair.”

TIME: SUNDAY, 6 A.M.

STATUS: SLEEPING IN A FLUFFY BED

A LOUD BANGING ON MY DOOR HAD ME
jumping out of bed the next morning.

“Wake up!” a voice shouted. More banging on my door.

I looked at my clock—6 a.m. What idiot was waking me this early? Sundays were for sleeping in, everybody knew that. “Who is it?”

No answer.

I rubbed my head, spreading the smell of peroxide around. I remembered: the streak in my hair and how I really looked like Benjamin Green now. I walked to the door and looked out the peephole, but saw nothing. More banging, making me jump since I was right at the door. I strained to look down and saw a mop of red hair. There was a redheaded kid banging on my door at 6 a.m.

“Time for your run, Benjamin Green.”

And then I got it: this kid was here as part of the mission somehow. He thought I was Benjamin Green, and I was supposed to go for a run.

I opened the door and looked down at a scrawny kid, a good inch shorter and at least twenty pounds lighter than me. He wore a blue sweat suit with some crest on it, and had freckles all over his face, even on his wrist, I noticed as he extended his hand to shake mine. “Henry, Martin Henry. But you can call me Henry—everyone does except my mom.” I knew who he was: that redheaded kid from the DVD, the one getting push-up pointers from Benjamin Green. Henry grinned. “Gosh, this really is kind of an honor.”

“Right.” I blinked, still waking up a little. “So you're still in junior agent training, right?”

He laughed. “Gosh, I just can't believe they let me—me!—come out here to join this mission with you.”

So this Henry was another kid in Pandora. “What are you, my partner?”

“No.” Henry shook his head. “I'm the tech guy.”

“Ah.” It was too early for me to wonder why there would be a need for one.

Henry grinned. “You're, like, my hero.”

“I know,” I grumbled. Then I remembered I was Ben. I brushed my hair back like he did in the video, feeling weird. “I'm flattered, Henry, but I'm sure I can skip the ol' six a.m. run for a day.”

“Agent Stark told me you might say that. She said you've been slacking on your training a little. That's so unlike you.” Another wide grin. “She also said you might try to bribe me to get out of running.”

So much for my plan B.

“Come on,” Henry said. “You can beat me at the five k like you did at training camp, Ben.”

I swallowed. “Okay. Just let me change into my gym gear.” At this point, I seriously considered crawling back in bed and leaving Henry out there. But I knew he wouldn't leave, so I dug around in the shopping bags of Ben stuff to find a tracksuit and sneakers.

I sounded like a walking tent as I followed Henry down to a deserted lobby, outside to the big deck with pool, and down the steps to a chilly beach. “Race ya,” he said, and started kicking up sand.

I should probably mention right now that I qualify for the
Guinness Book of World Records
as the slowest, most out-of-shape twelve-year-old in history. By the time I reached the surf, I thought I was going to die. Henry was far ahead of me, running like that's all he ever did, his legs moving faster than I'd ever seen anyone's move.

And I was supposed to be Benjamin Green, super junior agent! I stopped running and leaned my hands on my knees. My lungs were on fire. Up ahead of me, Henry turned around and stopped. To gloat, no doubt.

I gave him a little wave, then thumbed over my shoulder to the hotel. I was only supposed to be Benjamin Green for this exchange, for an hour, Agent Fullerton said. I didn't need to be an Olympic athlete for that. I was going back upstairs to catch up on my sleep.

But then I saw Henry. He looked panicked, running back in my direction even faster than I'd seen him run already.

Was my hair on fire or something? Was the hotel blowing up? I looked over my shoulder. Behind, there was the Ventura Hacienda, looking fancy as ever. Some guy was cleaning the pool, and another one was sweeping the deck. A lady in a jogging suit was tying her shoes, one foot propped on a patio chair, her back toward me.

Henry raced up. “You have a tail!” he hissed, pulling me along.

“A what?” I almost looked back at my behind to see what he was talking about—but then I got it.

Someone was following me.

“You're the rabbit, I shoulda known,” Henry mumbled. “Come on.” He clenched his teeth and made his way toward the hotel. I was a bunny? I didn't think so. But I followed him anyway, curious now. Who did he think was following me?

We reached the giant hotel deck and Henry stopped, like he wasn't sure what to do. Guy One was still sweeping the deck—the same spot, I was pretty sure. Guy Two was lazily combing the net through the pool. They looked like they were working very hard at not working. But Henry obviously saw something else. He squinted, pointed at me, and then at Guy One.

Before I even understood what was going on, Henry sprinted toward him. With a low karate-type kick, Henry looped his right leg in front of the guy's legs and swooped them out from under him. And Guy One landed in the pool with a splash, still clutching the broom.

Then Henry sprinted toward the guy with the pool net and shoved him. Hard. Sending him flying into the pool. The net on a stick clattered on the pool deck.

“Take that, you fools,” Henry said with a contented grin.

“Those guys were following me?”

Henry nodded, using the pool cleaning net on a stick like a lance to keep his victims floating in the pool. They looked pretty angry.

But not as miffed as Agent Stark. She ran up from the beach in her jogging suit, stalked onto the deck, and snatched the pool cleaning net from Henry's hand. “What the heck did you do?”

AFTER AGENT STARK HELPED THE GUYS
out of the pool, she took us both aside. “Whose idea was it to take down these hotel employees?”

“Mine.” Henry waved his hand, looking like he just got an F on his latest homework assignment. Which was probably not that far from the truth. “I left my glasses up in my room, and I'm kinda blind without 'em. Sorry.”

“And you?” She gave me her death-ray stare. “Where were you in all of this?”

“Agent Green had nothing to do with this,” Henry said before I could. “He is the best, after all.”

Agent Stark squinted. “Right.”

Henry tried a smile. “We had a great run. Benjamin here swept the floor with me—look,” he said, and raised his arms and shoved his sweaty underarms right under Agent Stark's nose. “I'm drenched.”

Agent Stark recoiled at the sight of Henry's soaked pits.

“Agent Green didn't even break a sweat.” Henry lowered his arms.

“It's all in the training.” I hoped I sounded convincing.

“I'll have to fix things with the hotel now. You recruits wash up.
Benjamin
, I'll catch up with you later.”

Henry waited until she was out of earshot before he asked, “Who are you?” He stepped closer and looked me in the eye. “The Benjamin Green I know wouldn't stop running. He'd never pass up a chance to show me he's better, and then he'd throw the
Junior Agent Manual
in my face.”

I stepped back. “I just left the manual in my room, that's all.”

“You're not Benjamin Green.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you're not.”

“Yes, I am.” I took another step back. “I'm Benjamin Green.” I tried to stand tall, like Ben would, but I knew Henry wasn't buying it.

“You're some kind of fake.” Henry nodded and kept smiling with a smug expression on his face. “I knew it!”

I felt my face go red. So much for pulling off this double thing.

“You walk different.” Henry stepped closer again. “Oh, and you get embarrassed.”

“You got me. I'm Linc Baker,” I mumbled, feeling like an idiot. “And I
can
run. I beat lots of kids in PE, you know.” Well, some of them anyway.

“No wonder you looked all confused when I called you a rabbit,” Henry said with a nod.