Child's Play

I gave up years ago. Whenever I stood, I would be knocked down. I was the odd kid, the one to tease. I was the one who couldn't fight back.
         My name is Eniro. I'm 12 years old today. But no one is here to take care of me anymore. I'm totally alone and lost.
         It is only a few days before I must leave my home, and my school. I will be going to America. They tell me it is to keep me safe, but I know differently. This is an embarrassment to the English. Especially since it happened right under their noses.
         I am sitting in my room right now, two armed guards standing outside my oak door. My room is stripped bare, like everywhere else. I only have a bag to keep now. I have some clothes, some money, and some other possessions. But I am allowed a trunk. There was a letter for me at the office of MI6.
         Did I tell you? My father was a MI6 spy. My mother was MI5.  Homeland and Foreign. There must have been a lot of people who hated our family.
         Which was why they had been killed. At the same time, in two different places. My father exiting the MI6 headquarters, my mother in our house, in my room.
         That was two days ago. Even with the government pressuring them, it was difficult to keep something like a double murder quiet.
         God, I'm sounding like one of those men outside my door: unfeeling, uncaring.
         I remember sitting in my mathematics form, or class at Eton, to have a group of beaks come in, and whisper to our professor, Mr. Kandelles. They looked at me, and went back to conferring. Then, the Latin beak, Corneille Washburn called me up.
         I was hurried to my room, where they explained to me that my parents were dead, and that I would have to leave Eton.
         They were very puzzled when a note came for them by a Pop boy. They said that I would have to leave England...
         And the note was from the Prime Minister and Aron Gray, the latter of which the beaks didn't understand. They only cared about the Prime Minister.
         But Aron Gray was the leader of MI6. At that point it hit me that my parents were dead. I started crying.
         By the end of the day, I was on the subway, heading home, surrounded by SIS agents. I had my bag, and the clothing I was wearing. And I was expected to get the rest of my stuff.
         The next day I was instructed by Myra Noones, second in command at MI5, where I learned I was going to America. They said to keep me safe, but as I said earlier, I knew better.
         And here I am now, sitting on my bed, fingering a key pick. I got up silently and listened at the doorknob.
         The two guards were not talking. I grunted and picked up my bag. Surprisingly, it wasn't very heavy.
         But yesterday, I heard two different guards talking about me.
         'What do you think about that Blunt kid?' one guard asked.
         'He's creepy. He doesn't seem perturbed by his parents deaths. And you don't know what he is thinking.'
         “His teacher at Eton said he cried when he heard the news.'
         'Well, he also said that the kid thought for awhile. And we know he is a bloody good actor.'
         'Even so, Jon, dontcha think it is a little outlandish to think the boy had a hand in this?'
         'I wasn't suggesting that.'
         'Alright.'
         This didn't really bother me. I had been picked on for being quiet. I also knew well enough to keep my features blank and rather, well, Blunt.
         I shook my head and knocked on the door. I heard the two guards move and I moved out, and down the stairs.
         I was aware of people watching my every step. I was the famous child inside the SIS, or secret intelligence service.
         People questioned who my parents were at Eton, how much money I had. I told them what I had been told until I was 11 years old, that they were bank and government people. Several were surprised that my mother worked. But the money talk ended soon. They just assumed I had a lot.
         It was by design that I was placed at Eton. I was on a scholarship from the SIS. They were certain I would come into the business someday, and wanted to put me where my father went, just in case.
         Christina Perri played in the background as I went down the stairs. My bag felt heavy on my shoulders as I walked pass the lines of spies.          
         My trunk was already in the car that would take me to the airport, so I held nothing but a small rucksack that held a picture of my parents and me, a notebook, pencil, and a battered Harry Potter book.
         As soon as I stepped out of the door, agents surrounded me. I kept my head down and walked to the small, dark car that was waiting for me.
         The drive to the airport was quite short, maybe 10 minutes at the most. The whole time I peered out of the black-tinted windows, watching, possibly for the last time, my home.















Chapter 2:

The plane was cruising now, high into the air.
         I gazed out the window at the sunset and watched as England faded away to open water.
         A stab of homesickness hit me then, and I felt the prickling of tears in the corners of my eyes.
         I quickly reached up and brushed my tears away before one of my guards could see.
         One of the spies, a big guy, glanced at me and asked if I was okay.
         I nodded. “Yeah. I’m alright.” The big man stared at me for a moment, then turned away.
         Once again, I turned to the window, looking past the thin man beside me. Apparently I fell asleep over New York.
         
         I woke up with the skinny guard, Trevor, I think, shaking my shoulder.
         “Up an’ at em’, Eniro.” he called over the bustling of the passengers.