Harmless

1

The Coffee Café was crowded by the time I got there, out of breath and nursing a sore knee from bumping it on the edge of a public bench.

I looked over the sea of heads, searching out the familiar blue hair.

“Andy!” I smiled when I saw my sister standing up at one of the tables, waving to get my attention and succeeding in attracting the interest of half the café. I manoeuvred my way over, careful not to bump into anyone.

Finally, I reached the table and collapsed in the empty chair. An ice chocolate was sitting patiently in front of me.

“You’re so late,” scolded my sister as she took a sip of her own drink. I rolled my eyes and unbuttoned my jacket, and placed it on the back of my chair.

“Yeah, I know. I got caught up at work,” I said, my voice slightly apologetic. “Thanks for ordering.”

“You’re still paying me back.” I rolled my eyes at her, muttering at how cheap she was. “You’ve been super busy lately,” she noted, looking pointedly at my face. I could feel the bags under my eyes darken and droop under her gaze. “I saw you in that same shirt yesterday.”

“I’ve had a lot of paperwork to catch up on,” I explained and then frowned. “You didn’t see me—”

“Then again, all your shirts look the same.”

I sighed. “Stop attacking my wardrobe; it’s fine for work. Chris, I just got here, could you back off?”

Christine flung her hands up in defence. “Chill, sister. Just worried is all. Mum and dad rung yesterday asking about you.”

My eyes narrowed to slits. “What did you tell them?”

“Nothing, your Honour!”

“They’re coming down to visit, aren’t they?”

“Next weekend,” conceded my evil, faithless sister. I continued to glare at her, even as I took a sip of the tasty ice chocolate. “Hey, it’s not my fault.”

I relaxed a bit, realising the truth in her words. I still blamed her, though.

“Where are they staying?”

Chris smiled nervously at me.

“You didn’t!” I exclaimed, slamming my hand onto the table. A few people looked over at the loud noise before turning back to their own lives. Chris, on the other hand, had started to chuckle.

“Man, you are so stressed out over everything. They’re booked into a hotel.”

I sighed, and ran a hand through my fringe. “Sorry. I’ve just got so much damn paperwork.”

“I thought being a secret agent was supposed to be all about adventure and excitement!”

“Chris, for the last time, I am not a secret agent.” She rolled her eyes at me and dipped her head to slurp off the foam from her hot chocolate. Chris wasn’t exactly overjoyed at my chosen profession. She thought that my line of work was too dangerous, which, despite the fact it probably was, it really wasn’t any of her business.

I suppose I should probably explain.

Five years ago, I joined a recruitment program for youths. All I knew was that the project was funded by the government and directed by a company called the National Protection Agency. I suppose it sounded a little serious and a tad hardcore for a twelve year old, but when my parents had instantly told me to stay away from something as ludicrous as that, I’d immediately signed up. I don’t think I was thoroughly aware that the kind of training was for lethal combat and it would eventually lead up to a career in protection and safety—essentially, a bodyguard.

The program gave me a getaway to a lot of things I’d wanted to escape from—school, family, dodgy friends… It had been a perfect opportunity. On weekends, we attended daylong sessions of workouts and extra classes. During the first few months I regretted my decision with vehemence. The exercises were absolute hell, running forty thousand (maybe not so much) laps around a damn field before progressing onto reflex activities. The first time a gun was fired my way, I’d nearly knocked the shooter flat before realising it was part of the exercise. But, the first time I’d held a gun was even worse—I was scared shitless. I mean it was a killing machine. That was when I’d had my first and last doubt.

The classes were a little more challenging, sometimes. They didn’t focus on school related topics, but centred around advancing intelligence, assertiveness, our ability to lead a team, research tasks, and things that I didn’t understand back then.

I was sixteen when I finished the program, and at the same time graduated from high school—I wasn’t a genius, nor did I dropout, but with the extra work that the program had demanded of me, I’d learnt to control my studies and found that school was a breeze compared to my recruitment training. Immediately after I finished school, I was offered an internship at the company. So here I was, almost eighteen and already inaugurated as a professional bodyguard.

Yeah, I know. If you wanted your life protected you wouldn’t choose a kid, let alone a girl to look after you. So I was mostly used for minor cases or team cases. I wasn’t necessarily offended by my boss’ decision to keep me as a dependent member because, really, I was only seventeen—even I didn’t think I was ready to launch into a new independent career.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” Chris said breaking into my languid stupor. “The point is, when you came back from your last mission I distinctly remember a broken ankle and a gun shot wound.” I flinched and shrugged. “You’re shrugging at me?”

“Come on, Chris. I’m made of tougher stuff.”

“You’re such a boy.”

“Hey!” I cried out in my defence. “I am not.”

Chris snickered into her drink. “I don’t believe you,” she sung in that obnoxious, teasing way of hers.

“I’m not playing into your game, Chrissy.”

“Game?” She blinked innocently. “There’s no game. I just think that you’re too manly.”

“Well, you’re too girly.”

“Andy, when was the last time you actually wore a dress, or make up? Or, for god’s sake, let your damn hair out of that stupid ponytail?” I immediately stopped twirling the ends of my hair and glared at her. Who said being a girl had to include any of those things above?

“Yesterday. I had to wash it.”

“Great, wash it tomorrow night, too. I’m taking you out,” she declared.

“No freaking way. Last time you took me out my drink was spiked.” Chris winced.

“One bad experience, Andy. I promise this place is better.”

“No,” I stated with defiance. No way was I being dragged to some god-forsaken club again. “Now, was this all you called me in for?”

Chris pouted. “I can’t call my baby sister just to check up on how she’s doing?”

“Chris, you said you saw me yesterday,” I pointed out, despite me having no recollection of such a thing happening.

“Yeah, but still.”

“Man, I’ve got to get back to work—my lunch break ended two minutes ago.” Dropping a five dollar note on the table and grabbing my jacket from the back of my seat, I waved goodbye to my sister, realising that we hadn’t had enough time to talk about her.

“See you Friday!” I ignored her.

--

“Damn pens,” I cursed as the ink in my fifth blue pen faltered and eventually died out. Frustrated beyond compare, I threw the stupid pen into the wastebasket feeling none of the usual satisfaction as it sailed in smoothly. Instead, I turned back to my desk shoulders drooping as I stared mournfully at the paperwork piled on my desk.

I glanced at the clock on the wall above my cubicle and heaved a loud sigh. It was only 3:45pm. I’d only returned from lunch about an hour ago and so far I’d only gotten through one file and a page. Christ, how boring.

I’d roughly pulled open my desk drawer and was searching for a black pen (blue be dammed) when I heard a knock on the wooden wall of my workspace. I looked up through a scruffy fringe. Henry Stevens, someone I’d never really spoken to, was standing behind me looking amused yet stern and serious at the same time.

“Boss wants to see you,” he informed me. I nodded and shut the drawer, pulling down my shirt to straighten out the creases as I stood up. Henry disappeared into his own cubicle and I worked my way through the maze of desks. I stopped in front of the foreboding wooden door, my mind going furiously over everything I’d been doing in the past week. Nervousness crawled along the back of my neck when I couldn’t remember if I’d taken a step out of line at any stage.

I pushed my hair back off my forehead, braced myself, and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” came the muffled response. I opened it and entered the office, closing it quietly behind me.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Theodore Boss looked up from sorting papers out on his desk. When I’d first joined the network, this tall, broad-shouldered man and his iron stare had intimidated me to no end. In fact, he still did—what was I talking about? His stoic countenance and commanding presence reduced me to a small, meek little girl. Thankfully, I hadn’t (yet) been brought to his office for shouting. I’d heard the stories of a furious Boss and that was something I didn’t want to experience first hand.

“Andrea,” he acknowledged before gesturing to a chair, “take a seat. How’re you doing?”

I sat down in one of the chairs, leaning back comfortably. “Paperwork up to my eyeballs, sir.”

He chuckled and also took up a seating position. Man, he was tall even seating down. “That’s good news then.” I raised my eyebrows but lowered them quickly when he looked back at me. “It’ll make this opportunity even more appealing. I take it you’re sick of the office, Cousins?”

To lie, or not to lie… “Oh, well, sort of.”

“Good. As you know Kingsley, Richards, and Blue have been away on mission status lately. Recently a new position opened up on the team. I was wondering if you were interested.”

I replied instantly and with eagerness and excitement. “Anything to be out of the office, sir. Is it a big case, sir? I know Henrietta and Josh have been working on the same project.”

Boss shook his head and leant back in his large office chair. “Despite the large team, it’s actually a relatively small case. About a month back, Rhonda and Scott Phillips—I assume you are aware of who they are?” I nodded. Everyone knew them. “Yes, well, they contacted me concerning their son. Apparently, they’d been receiving threats from an unknown source—unfortunately, we’re still working on discovering their identities.”

I nodded slowly. I’d briefly heard about their son through my sister. I made a mental note to listen to her more often. Who would’ve thought that gossip might come in handy? “How old is their son?”

“Eighteen in two weeks. His name is Oscar Jesse Phillips, although apparently he goes by his middle name. He’s still in school, taking his final year at Burmount Boys Grammar.” I whistled lowly, but wasn’t thoroughly surprised. Burmount was the state’s, if not the country’s, most renowned school for their all-rounded excellence in academics, sports and creative arts; not to mention they were stocked with the sons of the richest families. Burmount was a boarding school, but as far as I knew, there were no serious restrictions or limitations on their social expeditions. When I’d been in school the gossip created images of rich, gorgeous young men, who had connections beyond your wildest dreams. I’m pretty sure my sister had dated a Burmount prefect at one stage…

Boss placed a large hand on his desk as if to get my attention. Right, mind on the job. “Anyway, the reason it has assimilated such a large response team is because their son isn’t aware of the threats, so they have requested an undercover bodyguard scheme. They didn’t want their son worried—didn’t want his daily life affected. Because he’s still at school and all three members are clearly too old to be students, we were forced to employ them as temporary teachers.” I stared at Boss. That kind of logic was most likely to get someone killed. Were his parents really more concerned about his normalcy to be too worried about the fact his life was on the line?

I was confused. “But teachers only go so far, sir. Their son’s safety is at risk—”

“I know. Unfortunately, we’re forced to comply by their wishes, Cousins; we had no other way to ensure there would be a daily surveillance.”

“But what about his situation outside of school, at home? Or when he’s out with his friends, sir?”

“Luckily, he’s boarding, so he’s not always out frolicking around on the streets of Melbourne.” I stifled a laugh at the imagery Boss created. “All the same, we’ve set up cameras around the Phillips’ house and added a few extra security defences on the property. The fact that Rhonda and Scott refuse to tell him about the threats has caused a few setbacks in the initial plan. We are unable to secure certain locations, such as his room, and while we have Kingsley and Blue running double shifts to keep an eye on him when he’s out with friends, it’s been ridiculously difficult to completely ensure his safety. Apparently,” he grunted in frustration, “Mr Phillips is quite the social boy.” I hid a wide smile behind a simple hand movement.

Of course the little twit would be a social king, I thought sardonically. I was absolutely sure that almost every boy at Burmount heralded the social movement.

Clearing my throat, I asked: “So, where do I come in, sir?”

“We only have three members physically involving themselves in this case because they actually have the equivalent qualifications necessary to teach. Kingsley’s taking care of maths, Richards is teaching history and Blue is covering Biology and Physical Education. Just recently both his English and arts teachers have left the school.”

“Coincidence, sir?” I asked, feigning innocence. Boss shot me an amused look.

“Of course, Cousins. Now, this is where you are introduced: you are to take over his English and art classes.”

What?

“What?”

“How eloquent, Cousins. You're going to be teaching Art and English.”

My jaw had dropped and my surprised was clearly evident. “You want me to teach?”

“I believe that’s what I’ve said. I understand you have a background in art and you excelled in your VCE English exams.”

“But, sir, I’m the same age as them! You’re talking about one of the most academically inclined schools in Australia! Shouldn’t you enlist someone who’s a little older and more experienced?”

“Unfortunately, as I mentioned, I’ve only chosen those who have the qualifications to teach. I am well aware that we are not only infiltrating the education system, but also have personnel staff professionally teaching students in their final year. I’m sure you remember how serious and stressful that time was—the students’ parents are paying top dollar for their kids to be taught at this school; I am not about to send in someone unqualified. You, Andrea, are qualified.”

He was crazy. The thought terrified me and sent doubt and denial at his words coursing through my mind. But under his hard, ‘don’t-answer-back’ stare, I caved and mumbled out, “Sorry for questioning you, sir.”

“We’ve already employed you into the system by a varied ID. I have two folders for you: one with your new personal details, your certificate on completing a high school education course and the other with information on the subject and what has been collected so far. You start on Monday; I’ll call you in with the team on Sunday for a second briefing. Questions?”

Are you insane? “Am I to fully assume the role of a teacher? Class lessons, marking work, freely giving out detentions?”

“Yes. I’ve already researched a team to help you with the marking, as you’ll also be expected to assist in keeping an eye on him as well. You’re the youngest agent we have, so we’re going to use your age to the best of our ability; you’ll be able to mix in with surroundings and such.”

“Yes, sir.” There was a moment of hesitation when I almost chewed a hole through my bottom lip. “I’m sorry, sir, but wouldn’t it be more appropriate for me to come in as a transfer student, or a teacher’s assistant? Or I could even go under disguise—”

“We’ve already gone through the many ways we could assume you into the project. A transfer student is unlikely, as it would cause unwanted attention and special interest—I suppose that ties in with disguise. We’re still considering the teacher’s assistant position but now that we have no other members on team that aren’t as qualified as you are we’re temporarily keeping you as a teacher. Disguise is, granted, another valid option; it would cut down at least half our team and save time and effort. On the other hand, we haven’t thought of a moral, secure plan to set you up on campus. Also,” there was another sigh of blatant annoyance, “the Phillips’ are somewhat doubtful of solely entrusting their son’s safety into the hands of a girl for such a length of time.

I puffed up at that remark, instantly offended. Boss waved his hand at me in a ‘don’t start’ gesture. So much of this was not making complete sense to me.

“Now, is that all?”

No. “Yes, sir.”

“Excellent, take the rest of the day off—speak to Rachel, we’ve organised some money for you.”

“For a new wardrobe?”

“Yes. Although, I’m sure that your work clothes won’t be much different, we need to make sure you appear older and more mature.”

“Yes, sir. Thanks for this opportunity,” I said, curtly, standing up. The last was begrudgingly mumbled and I caught Boss’ smirk.

“No worries, Cousins. See you Sunday.”

I walked out of his office bemused and slightly annoyed. Well, at least I could tell Chris I was getting my excitement and adventure.