There I was, bummed out and a little scared, wondering who I really was, when Buster gave me that Mountain Dew and, whoa, suddenly I realized, it doesn’t matter; we’re all brothers under the skin. He and the janitor would have their arms around each other’s shoulders by then, with a kick line of dancing girls behind them, and birds twittering around their heads, and the dreary waiting room transformed into a lovely meadow….
The janitor disappeared back through the door. So no dancing girls and twittering birds. Mom was still pointlessly reaching into her purse—all because of that “Pay your own way” virtue she and Dad always preached. You’d think they’d want to emphasize the whole Don’t-take-candy-from-strangers message too, Jonah thought. He stared suspiciously down at the bottle. This Mountain Dew could be poisoned. It could be laced with a dangerous narcotic, and the next thing he knew, he’d be waking up in a dark room, his mouth gagged, his wrists and ankles tied together. Maybe James Reardon was a kidnapper, maybe he was the one who’d been sending Jonah and Chip those weird letters, maybe…
Jonah noticed that the cap of the Mountain Dew bottle had never been opened. It was still connected to the ring of plastic below it.
You are so paranoid, he told himself. The reason Mom and Dad aren’t suspicious is because there’s no reason to be suspicious. You’re thirsty; someone was nice enough to give you a Mountain Dew—drink it!
Jonah unscrewed the lid, raised the bottle to his lips, and took a huge gulp. Beside him, Dad patted his leg comfortingly.
Jonah was done with the Mountain Dew by the time the door opened again. This time a man in a suit stood framed in the doorway.
“Mr. and Mrs. Skidmore?” he asked, reaching out to shake hands. “I’m James Reardon. Come on back.”
The Skidmores followed Mr. Reardon down a long hallway. The offices on either side of the hallway were dark, with the doors shut, as if everyone else had already left for the day. Mom must have noticed this too because she said, “We really appreciate you staying late to meet with us after my husband and I got off from work. We really could have—”
“It’s no problem,” Mr. Reardon said. He showed them into the only well-lit office, a large room dominated by a huge desk. He shut the door behind them. “Please, have a seat.”
There were only three chairs lined up in front of the desk, so Jonah had to tug a fourth one over from beside a couch at the right side of the room.
Couldn’t Katherine have gotten the extra chair? Jonah fumed to himself. She’s the extra person!
He didn’t seem to have any control of his emotions suddenly: he was so mad at Katherine, so annoyed with Mom and Dad for sitting down so obediently in their low chairs and staring up at Mr. Reardon like little kids sent to the principal’s office. What he wanted to do was just blurt out, “What do you know about me?”
No, he didn’t want to do that. He was too scared about how Mr. Reardon might answer.
Mad, annoyed, scared, confused…, Jonah listed to himself. Want fries with that?
In spite of himself, Jonah grinned. His brain was a mixed-up, bizarre place, but at least he could amuse himself sometimes.
Mr. Reardon cleared his throat. Jonah stopped grinning.
“I thought it was important to have this meeting,” Mr. Reardon said in a smooth, silky voice, looking carefully at Mom, then Dad, then Jonah and Katherine, each in turn. “When you called, Mr. Skidmore, it became apparent to me that information had been released that was, ah, inappropriate.”
Dad leaned forward. “You mean—”
Mr. Reardon held up his hand, as if only he was allowed to talk.
“Please, let me finish,” he said. “I wanted to meet with you to assure you that we aren’t trying to hide any information that you’re entitled to. But you must understand the delicacy required in matters of national security. And—”
“Our son’s background is a matter of national security?” Mom asked incredulously.
Mr. Reardon glanced away for a second, then locked his gaze on Mom’s eyes. This reminded Jonah of a spoof he’d seen once in MAD magazine that was supposed to teach kids how to lie convincingly. “Peer deeply into your target’s eyes” had been one of the first rules on the list.
“I didn’t say that,” Mr. Reardon said soothingly, his eyes still fixed on Mom’s face. “Of course that’s ridiculous. To the best of my knowledge, his actual adoption was a very routine matter. But there were various government agencies involved…beforehand…and some of us do require a certain level of secrecy, just by the very nature of our work. So, there you have it. Really, you should never have been given my name.”
He sat back in his chair, smiling apologetically from across the vast reaches of his desk.
“Let me get this straight,” Mom said. “You’re saying that the FBI had some connection to Jonah’s life before he joined our family—and you’re not allowed to tell us what it is? You don’t think he has a right to know?”
Some of the politeness had gone out of Mom’s voice. “Let me get this straight” was the phrase that she always used with Jonah and Katherine when she thought they were stretching the truth a bit. (“Let me get this straight—you started practicing the trumpet at three thirty, according to the kitchen clock, and it’s only three fifty now, but somehow I’m supposed to believe that you practiced for an entire half hour out there in the living room? How could that be?”) Normally, Jonah hated that stern tone in Mom’s voice, that steely look in her eye. But right now he felt like cheering her on.
“Now, now,” Mr. Reardon said, leaning forward again. “I can understand how this might be upsetting to you. That ‘FBI’ title frightens people sometimes. In many ways, the Immigration and Naturalization Service was more involved. But, alas, secrets are secrets….”
“What are you talking about?” Dad asked. “Immigration and Naturalization…are you saying Jonah was born in another country?”
Was that what Immigration and Naturalization meant?
“I’m an American!” Jonah blurted out, before he could stop himself.