Chapter One
Melvin T. Bentley

“At all times, wear it at all times Chloe- Al-Henr- whatever it is you’re going by now.” He shoved the bullet proof vest at me, eyeing my new haircut disapprovingly. “Not only does it keep you safe but it also covers up your- your.”

“Breasts,” I supplied, pulling the heavy vest over my bruised arms. He latched it around me. “And what if they aim for my head?”

“Yes, breasts.” He ignored my comment and readjusted the Velcro straps. I was going to miss this man. “Now let’s just go over the new background one more time, just in case you forgot anything. Randy, again.” His baritone was impatient but Randy ignored the tone and let out a heavy sigh.

I grimaced and pulled on a white uniform button up; taking a deep breath before I brought my hands up. My chest was already aching from the weight of the bullet proof vest, though thankfully not as bad as I was hurting before, so these some odd fifteen buttons were going to hurt. The shirt was new so the fabric was still stiff and the buttons were small, making for one very painstakingly aggravating attempt.

Five weeks prior to sitting in a cramped van with two FBI agents, I was contemplating the flight or fight instinct and jumping from roof tops. The recently healed ribs were mostly due to the baseball bat that had connected with my chest several times. Three had been fractured in the tussle, making it very hard to hold my arms up.

Recently healed meant normal movements such as: holding my arms up for any longer than thirty seconds or the simple task of stretching up for something was hellishly painful. So holding my arms out and maneuvering my fingers to function correctly with the tiny buttons was causing me to sweat. Plus the added weight of the bullet proof vest didn’t help much.

“I can do it.” I growled swatting away the proffered hands that belonged to Frank.

“You are now Melvin Tucker Bentley, transfer student from Oregon.” Randy stated through a mouthful of Oreos.

“Melvin Tucker Bentley?” I stared, mouth agape at the thick blond stuffing another Oreo in his mouth.

His blue eyes showed innocence and the full yellow beard on his chin moved up and down with his chewing. He was short and stout, with food smeared fingers and bushy eyebrows that ate up his forehead. He stared back blankly at me rubbing his shiny bald head and glanced at Frank hesitantly.

“What?” Black Oreo crumbs tumbled out of his mouth and buried themselves in his beard.

“Melvin?! Are you serious?” My voice was screechy and panicky sounding. “Do you want me to get beat up?”

Randy looked at Frank again and the bear of a man stared at me with same blank expression of his partner.

“What?” Randy swallowed the Oreo and was looking genuinely confused.

“What kind of a name is Melvin Bentley!?” They looked at each other again, still confused but this time wary.

“A good strong name!” Randy defended looking bewildered at my outburst. Randy obviously had never spent any time out in public.

“We couldn’t exactly give you a girly name.” Frank shrugged.

“Out of all the names in the world you choose the one that is sure to get me beat up!” They still both looked just as confused as before. “Why not Freddie Krueger or Han Solo?!” I even would have preferred Butch over Melvin!

“Those are taken.” Randy stated simply, still not understanding my dilemma.

“How did you even come up with that?” I didn’t understand how they were oblivious to the sheer nerdity of that name. It would doom me to swirlies and trashcannings for the rest of my life.

“I was at home when I was making up your documentation. I couldn’t think of anything so I just got the names from my pets.” Randy rubbed the back of his neck. “Melvin’s my clown fish, Tucker is my dog and Bentley is my turtle.”

“Bentley does tricks.” Frank offered as if that was some kind of reparation.

“Never mind,” I ended the obviously hopeless endeavor, trying not to think of the inevitable abuse I would get for such a name. “Where do I come from again?”

“We can’t change it now, Chloe.” Frank patted my shoulder apologetically, his face still clueless as to what he was comforting me about. “It’s already on all the records.”

“It’s alright, Melvin is fine, really.” I smiled up at them trying for a convincing smile.

He handed me my new backpack and I committed my new name to the brain, forcing myself to become this character the FBI thought up for me. I was no longer the recently orphaned, Chloe Falcan born in southern California. I was Melvin Tucker Bentley, from Oregon; a kid who still had parents.

“Oregon. You transferred from Willawood Academy because your parents are going through a divorce and they sent you to your grandfather’s. His name is Garry Bentley.” I had never been in Theatre, nor had anyone suggested that I be in it; my acting skills were shit. I shouldered the backpack, repeating everything he said in my head. “Other than that, you can just make shit up.”

“Lie.” I corrected, no longer cringing at the thought of being dishonest.

I had always been politely straightforward with people. I prided myself on that. But now my entire life was dependent on lies. I couldn’t wait for the trial.

“Don’t think of it like that.” Frank frowned, the frown lines disappearing into his graying beard. “Just think of it as… telling a story.”

I frowned again, unwilling to lie to myself. It was lying, the end.

“Your room number is 217 and, oh yeah, you’re now male.” Randy handed me the key with a jarring clap on the back.

“Except without the penis.” I tried to chuckle.

Randy sniggered along and clamped me on the back again, almost sending me reeling. Frank gave a humoring smile but his eyes were solemn. I wanted to make him feel better; he was so tense, I could almost feel him deliberating. Despite my lame attempt at a joke, Frank had his serious face on. Frank was a middle aged FBI agent, with the arduous task of keeping me alive; which in the past five weeks had become increasingly difficult.

“Chloe, listen to me.” Frank put a hand on my shoulder and forced me to look at his serious brown eyes. “It is imperative that no one, no one, learns your secret.”

Apparently a seventeen year old, a hundred and ten pound girl, warranted three assassination attempts and the biggest contract on her head since Billy the Kid. I have seen a few Western’s in my time and I am no John Wayne. I am not even a eighteenth of John Wayne. I’d be the cheeky kid in the movies that gets shot up first, no not even that. I’d be John Waynes’ pinky toe.

“What if-” I could feel my eyes widen at the sudden thought. “What if they check my prostate Frank? I don’t have a prostate Frank!”

“They aren’t going to check your prostate Chloe, calm down.” Frank put a comforting hand on my shoulder and shook his head. “Now, even if the almighty himself walks up to you and becomes your best friend, do not tell him your real identity. This is the only way to keep you safe. Not even the faculty knows you’re a girl. Let’s keep it that way.”

I nodded my understanding and Frank was rubbing his temples again. I glanced in the long mirror not recognizing the person who held my gaze. My normally brown hair was died black and cut shorter than I had ever considered cutting it before. I had talked Frank out of a buzz cut, convincing him that Emo was the way to go. My eyes were now colored grayish blue, instead of the normal emerald green of my fathers. My chest was flat and thicker, thanks to the bullet proof vest. A boy’s uniform adorned my body and made me look gangly and awkward and the least feminine I’d ever felt. But still, I could see the girl underneath all the layers of boy. Hopefully, no one else could.

It’s not your fault. I locked my gaze of the murky blue contacts now irritating my eyes. It was not your fault.

“So from here on out, you are on your own Chloe… or erm, Melvin.” Randy smiled and clapped me on the back again.

“No, not completely alone.” Frank motioned to my back pocket where my new phone was located. “You can call me or Randy any time. Every number you’ll ever need is programmed onto that phone.”

“Even the pizza place.” Randy maneuvered himself around Frank to wink at me.

“Thank you.” I hugged Frank carefully, trying not to antagonize my already aching chest more. “Thank you both so much.”

I looked at Randy with my arms outstretched. He was suddenly uncomfortable and focused on the screens in front of him. I hugged his shoulder blades instead and planted a kiss on his beard.

“Yeah, yeah.” He spluttered stuffing two Oreo’s into his mouth. “It’s my job.”

“Alright,” Frank tried to smile, which only made the worry lines around his chocolate brown eyes deeper. “It’s show time.”

Like Randy, Frank was stout, but where Randy was short and thick Frank was tall, very tall. He was already crouched awkwardly, his head and shoulders almost completely sideways; so him maneuvering around to reach the door handle took some trying.

The doors were thrown open and the crisp scent of autumn hit me in the face as I was momentarily blinded by the sudden light. I kissed Franks cheek and grinned back at him as I stepped onto the sidewalk. The pavement was fractured beneath my feet and weeds sprung from the cracked areas.

“Good luck kid.” Randy waved smiling. Oreo remnants lined his white teeth and the corners of his mouth black.

I crossed my fingers for any luck in that statement and smiled again. Franks face was serious still as he appraised my appearance for the fifteenth time.

“I’ll see you soon.” His voice was sincere and confident and I found myself believing him.

“Wait.” I clenched the cold metal of the door. “Frank… I… I wanted to say thanks for… you know… but I never really got the chance…. so…”

Obviously, expressing gratitude was something I needed to work on. The man had saved my life a grand total of three times and I couldn’t get out a simple thank you? Pathetic.

“Chloe,” He stepped out of the van pulling me into a tight hug and planted a kiss on the top of my head. “Just make sure that the whole, saving your life thing, isn’t wasted. Watch yourself and be careful, huh?”

“Alright.” Anxiety swelled in my stomach and slickened my palms.

He grinned as he put me at arm’s length examining my new boyishness. I nodded and wiped my sweaty palms on my trousers, trying to smile reassuringly.

“We’ll get him. Don’t worry.”

“What if you don’t- can the trial still go-” He mistook my questions as me being frightened. Of course I was scared, but more than anything I wanted revenge. If the legal courts couldn’t do that, then maybe I’d have a short and bloody future as an assassin.

“Look kid; don’t go worrying yourself sick over this. We are going to catch the bastard.” Frank was always so confident in everything he did; it was hard to doubt him. Despite his sincere and twinkling brown eyes, I was doubting him. Frank was probably pretty good at his job, I mean I’m still alive right? But he didn’t know Sheldon like I did.

He had not lived with that man for a month. Scott Sheldon was a vile, murdering being. What he lacked in morals and compassion, he made up for in malevolence and intelligence. On top of that, the man had connections, connections you could only have being involved with the mafia and some serious cash. Catching him would be a feat; but keeping him caged, that would be something else entirely.

“I know.” I smiled again, trying to look like I believed him.

He stepped into the van with one more genuine smile and Randy leaned out with a grin on his pudgy face.

“Stay groovy.” He smiled throwing up both his thumbs.

I rolled my eyes and smiled waving. The doors shut and the non-descript white van that I was brought in, drove away. I was left standing in front of the Greenwood Academy Boarding School for Boys. I was now on my own. No FBI agents and their handy guns. No high security cells or supervised pee breaks. Staying alive until the trail was now entirely up to me, John Wayne’s pinky toe.

Brown leaves crunched beneath my feet as I turned to look at my new home. I don’t know what I expected, maybe an ancient, foreboding castle entwined with long green vines and its own bank of grey clouds hovering over it. The school however, looked nothing like my gothic fantasy.

The very front of it looked like a scene right out of a Disney movie. A tall iron gate, reaching well past my head stood in front of me. Branches of red, brown, green and yellow leaves hung over the fence and rustled in time with the breeze. The golden yellow of the late afternoon sun cast everything in a lovely glow. The gate opened onto a carefully laid red brick road.

At the end of the road were three buildings in all. The first two that caught my eye were the tallest buildings. The roof tops were flat and rows upon rows of rectangle windows cut into the tan wooden walls. Fall touched trees and their colored leaves were strategically placed around the buildings to give the campus a more natural feel. The third building was considerably shorter, like the other two it held up a flat roof and was the same basic cube shape. This building though was painted green and black with fewer windows.

My ears caught the sound of distant laughter and a whistle blowing; I could make out a lush green sports yard behind painted building and outlines of bodies running around the field. A parking lot sat in front of the building on the furthest left holding a large amount of shiny expensive looking vehicles.

“Alright, Chloe. This is it.” I was not good at pep talks especially for a situation that I had no faith in, but I felt the occasion needed some kind of verbal avowal. “Do or die.” I couldn’t help but note the morbid reality of that quip.