Trinkets by Kirsten Smith

Author:Kirsten Smith
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780316160278
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2013-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

Spies Like Us

On our way out of class,

Moe joked maybe we are being

secretly recruited by the CIA,

and maybe Shawn is a top agent

sent to find new trainees,

and we are the chosen ones.

Maybe we will learn to carry state secrets

and smuggle microchips

and seduce bad guys.

Maybe we will save the world,

one trinket

at a time.

THE ASSIGNMENT

“So, did you have fun at Romeo and Juliet?” Elodie asks us. We’re walking downtown past Pioneer Courthouse Square, where all kinds of people are basking in the almost sunny day. Some dude is banging on plastic tubs like they’re drums.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Moe offers. “I hope Ms. H got that guy’s number. The erect one. I feel like he could have a positive impact on her life.” She makes a hip thrusting motion, and Elodie squeals.

“Did she assign you guys to write some stupid creative memoir about your family? Or was that just our class?” I ask.

“Yeah. Annoying. What’s there to say?” Moe shrugs, taking a piece of turkey jerky out of her bag and shoving it into her mouth.

“Trust me, I’ve got plenty to say about my parents,” I say. “I just don’t want to say it in an assignment in Ms. Hoberman’s class.”

“So, have you written it?” Elodie asks us both.

“No. And I don’t plan to.”

“The only writing I can seem to do is in my journal. When I go to write a paper, it reeks,” says Moe.

“I like writing poems,” Elodie says.

“You’re a total poetry type,” Moe teases, chasing down her jerky with a chug of Red Bull and swishing it around before she adds, “Poems are dorky.”

“They are not!” Elodie looks offended. “What do you think all great songs are? Poetry.”

“No, a great song is a great song. A poem is always going to be just a poem,” Moe retorts.

“I don’t know about poems, but I read blogs,” I say. “Have you been to the one run by some girl in Chicago who’s our age?”

“Blogs by teenagers: also stupid,” Moe says.

“No, it’s good, trust me.” I don’t know why I am bothering to try to convince a person who is a known vandal about the validity of a well-known website, so I change the subject. “Let’s go get some stuff and meet back here.”

“In twenty minutes?” Elodie asks.

“What? That’s barely enough time,” whines Moe.

“Nut up,” Elodie fires back. Jesus, she’s got surprising balls. Then she blushes. “Sorry. Something my dad used to say.”

“See you then,” I say. Moe sighs and heads off in one direction, and Elodie and I go in another. If only poor Shawn knew that this particular 10 percent of the population was definitely not curbing its shoplifting tendencies but fanning their flames as much as possible.

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