Page 9 of Cocky Secrets

The living room is right next to the kitchen, comfortable with many sofas and several well-worn adjustable armchairs, stationed around multiple coffee tables, floor lamps, and an 85” television darkened for the moment by our desire to eat as a family. To converse. Spend quality time together, usually going over details of the last mission to see if anything can be appliedby experience to their repertoire for the next. But Shay and Mylar took their meals outside today. Alone.

Curious, I discreetly follow them a few moments after they slip away, balancing my juice, cutlery and heaping plate as I exit out the back screen door, careful not to let it clatter loudly as I make my way through. I'm so nervous about today that I'm not very hungry, but I don't want to draw attention to myself. I piled my food high like I usually do, as a diversion tactic, not wishing to cause suspicious eyes glancing my way. Paranoid? Maybe. But maybe not. The Ciphers have been trained to detect unusual behavior, so my being careful is wise.

Our covered back porch is inviting and lovely at this time of day, bathed in buttery morning light that pours through the ancient oak trees spread generously throughout our back yard. There is a fence but it’s so deep and far away in octagonal corners that it feels more like we live in a forest, rather than on bordered land. I glance to the empty training ring, morning dew sparkling like diamonds along its charcoal-black padded floor and thick red ropes and poles that hold them. Today it will remain quiet as The Ciphers always take a day of rest after they return from a mission even if it’s considered boring by some. Did Shay and Mylar think it so? Do they not ‘get it’ as Sofia Sol put it?

The siblings are unbothered by my approach, so used to communal living where anyone at any time could turn your party of two into three or many more. Raised here, like us of the next generation were, you get used to having no space of your own once you’ve risen from bed. They even share a room, though, so it’s no wonder that they’re inseparable as a rule. Twins or no.

I smile, “How’d it go last night?” placing my breakfast onto our pinewood table that stretches the length of ten seats, careful not to spill my precious juice or topple this tower of food onto the pajama set I have yet to change out of. “I’m dying to know!”

They embrace the fact that they’re not just twins, but identical ones, almost always dressing alike, as they are today in jeans and black t-shirts. Their soft, curly, raven black hair is kept short enough that their slew of earrings are always on display. They both have five on either earlobe, tiny hoops, stars, frogs.

Only Shay has a tattoo, a tiny heart on her neck under her left ear. She touches it when disturbed, and so I take note of her scratching it now as she shrugs, “Just some landlord up in Pennsylvania who wouldn’t fix her slum of an apartment building. We found out the poor lady has an addict for a son and her life is falling apart faster than the building’s plumbing. We helped get things in order. Hired repair professionals. Ensured they don’t overcharge, and would complete the jobs well. Every unit needed something fixed. The main hallway and laundry room were in decay, and not just from water damage.” Shay stabs a tomato with her fork. “We also mediated arguments between her and some of the more fed-up tenants.”

Mylar mutters, “Some people have no compassion.”

Sofia Sol was right. This was a tame mission comparatively. Is that why they look disappointed? I wait until I’m finished chewing my creamy, yummy bagel to ask, “You mean compassion for the landlord?”

“Right.”

Shay exhales sharply through her nose. “We thought we would be up againstherbut it turned out that the tenants were the dicks in this scenario.”

We eat in silence for a little while, comfortably, with my mind drifting from the mission to what my day has ahead for me. I so wish I could tell them about Bear! I think they’d understand but I can’t risk it. At least Shay might. She leaned into her artistic side when she was younger, but hasn’t decorated in years, not since television shows took over her time and thoughts. Nevertheless, Shay might appreciate my painting a gorgeousman in the nude. But I stay my tongue on the subject, choosing instead to ask, “Are you going to be actual Ciphers now?”

“No.”

Mylar shakes her head, adding to her sister’s flat reply a quiet, “Don’t tell them.”

So weallhave secrets today, our little breakfast trio. Should I share mine with them?

I promise to keep theirs, voice quiet, too. “I won’t tell a soul. What are you going to do?”

College as Celia predicted?

Stay here and do nothing?

No, that can’t be it.

I wait with baited breath as they each take two suspenseful bites of omelette, chewing slowly.

Shay takes a deep breath, difficult for her to share, “There are work programs where you can travel to a different country. You get free rent and meals in exchange for working on their land. Farms. Vineyards. Stuff like that.”

“Oh!” I sit back. “That’s not what I expected you to say!”

“What did you expect?”

“Well, um…it was predicted you’d choose college.”

Mylar snorts, and wipes her nose from the orange juice coming out of it.

Shay frowns, incredulous, mouth squished in distaste. “What about us has ever given anyone the impression that we would want to be inthatcontrolled an environment?”

“Well, that might be true but if you’re working for people…on their vineyard, for example,” I carefully argue, “…there will be rules and structure there.”

“But you’re in a different country seeing new things! And you’re not therefor years! You can leave when you get bored.”

Mylar adds, “After giving them proper notice, of course.”

Shay waves her sister’s comment away. “Of course. You don’t even have to say that. We weren’t raised to be dicks.”

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