Friends Forever

Owen and Luke

**Owen**

I can't believe they're making me work with yet another team! Haven't they realized by now that I'm best when I'm alone? I don't want to have to rely on anyone, and so far, no one has been able to keep up with me anyway. I'm determined to be the youngest graduate of the Academy, and working with anyone else will just slow me down!

I get off of the bus and am irritated that it's running behind schedule. It's a good thing I allotted fifteen extra minutes to make sure that I arrive on time. Because I'm just eleven, I have to work even harder to prove to everyone that I can go solo. I check my watch and see that I have exactly fourteen minutes until Mr. Taylor is expecting me. I adjust my glasses and begin the estimated eight minute walk to the Taylor residence.

While I walk, I run through the most likely possibilities for my upcoming mission. Doctor Roberts was vague, on purpose, I think, and only told me that I would be working with Mr. Taylor on an assignment that only I could do. He didn't tell me to bring my violin, so it's doubtful that my assignment is musical in nature. I'm fairly good with numbers and just recently started mock-playing the stock market. I plan to continue my stock exercises for another three months, making sure to know exactly what I'm doing, and then am going to ask Doctor Roberts if he would be willing to invest my savings for me. Perhaps it's something along those lines?

I glance down at my watch, and see that I've been walking for six minutes. I look around, alert and cataloguing my surroundings like the Academy has taught me, and see a driveway off in the distance that is certain to be my destination. I slow my pace, not wanting to be early, and pause to admire the camellias near the sidewalk. They're a little overgrown, but the scent is perfect, and the blooms are healthy and lush.

Two minutes to go, and I begin my trek up the long driveway. I wait on the porch for thirty seconds before knocking an irregular pattern, and the door is yanked open by a shirtless boy with chocolate stains on his cheeks.

"UNCLE!" the boy cries while grasping my hand with his notably stickier one. "He's here!"

He yanks me into the front room, slamming the door behind me, and drags me toward a coffee table that is piled at least half a foot high with sweets.

"Hi! I'm-Luke-and-you're-Owen-and-I've-been-getting-ready-all-day-and-I-made-cupcakes-and-s'mores-and-chocolate-chip-cookies-but-I-couldn't-wait-so-I-tried-a-few-and-do-you-like-milk-because-if-you-don't-I-can-get-you-water-or-sweet-tea!"

The kid is practically vibrating with energy, and I finally manage to get my hand out of his sugar-coated grip. I look at the table of sweets and see that there are quite a few empty spaces. "Good lord, kid! How many have you eaten?" His nonstop prattle begins to unwind in my mind and I realize that he's offered me refreshment, so I quickly add, "And water would be fine, thank you."

He grins from ear to ear and bounces away and toward what I assume is the kitchen. I examine the table of junk food and realize that this kid, Luke, I think he called himself, is pretty talented if he truly made all of this on his own. The cupcakes look professionally frosted, and the cookies are all exactly the same size and could go on the cover of a cookbook, they're so perfect. The s'mores are at least half gone, by my judgement, but all of the marshmallows look to be lightly golden in color, and none of them appear burnt.

"Here you go!" Luke sings as he skids to a stop with a glass of water in his hand. I take it and thank him politely while waiting for Mr. Taylor to join us.

Luke grabs what I suspect is not his first cupcake of the afternoon, and bounces on his toes while peeling the wrapper away. He brings it to his mouth, but freezes and looks at me. "Aren't you going to have any?" he asks with wide brown eyes. I glance down at the confections and sigh.