Read Online Agent Angus by K. L. Denman - Free Book Online Page A

impress you because I like you too. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but it wasn’t.”
    There. I did it. I told the truth. I don’t dare look at her now.
    â€œThat’s so sweet,” Ella says.
    I gape at her. “It is?”
    â€œYeah. Not the lying, of course.” She shrugs and smiles bigger. “But… you like me too?”
    I nod.
    And then her smile fades. “But there’s something I don’t understand.”
    Uh-oh. I swallow and ask, “What?”
    â€œYou identified the stink bomber. I mean, that was totally impressive, the way you picked him out of the crowd.”
    I suddenly feel short of breath. I grab at the collar of my T-shirt and tug, but it doesn’t help. “Oh,” I choke. “That. Ha ha. Funny thing, you see. I see—I mean, I saw—him do it.”
    Behind her glasses, Ella’s brown eyes narrow. “Reeaaally?” The way she draws the word out must indicate something. The question is, what?
    I simply nod again.
    And she keeps watching me, as if she’s waiting for more.
    There isn’t any more. At least, not any more lies. Should I tell her that? I think I should. “That’s it,” I say.
    â€œThat’s it?” she echoes. And her eyebrows go up.
    I tug at my collar again. Something about this isn’t going well. What am I missing here? “I wish I’d never done that,” I mutter aloud. “I’m really sorry.”
    Her smile breaks out again, the one that reminds me of the gaseous outer layers of star glow. “Oh, Angus,” says Ella. “Me too. Do you think we can just forget all these silly glitches and start over?”
    I blink at her. “You mean like a hominid version of a reboot?”
    She blinks back. “Yeah. I guess I do mean that.”
    Shahid’s mouth hangs slightly open. We’re in our lab, and he’s looking over the sketches Ella drew of Gordon. Not Gordon as he is, but the Gordon we always dreamed he could be.
    â€œAmazing,” Shahid says. “Who’d have thought a frivolous thing like art could be so useful?”
    â€œNot me,” I reply. “But, Shahid? Don’t say that in front of Ella, okay?”
    Shahid squints at me. “What do you mean?”
    â€œDon’t you remember what happened the time I said art was a great hobby?”
    His eyes widen. “Oh yeah. Didn’t that set off her speech about art being essential for the soul?”
    â€œI think so,” I say. “Or was that when she told us life imitates art?”
    â€œMaybe. Did you understand that Ella-ism?” Shahid asks.
    I shake my head. “Ella-isms are challenging. Some of them remind me of the mentalists.”
    â€œIn what way?” he asks.
    â€œYou know,” I shrug. “All that stuff about reality being what we think it is.”
    We’re silent for a moment, considering this. Finally, Shahid sighs and says, “Thinking about that makes me dizzy.”
    â€œYeah. Me too.” Luckily, talking about mentalists has reminded me of a more entertaining time from the past. “Hey, do you remember when you muscled in between me and Rolf? When we were fighting?”
    The stories of our spy days have been retold between us many times. Shahid no longer corrects me when I describe my activity with Rolf as fighting. Already the details are shifting. Some part of my brain knows this, but it doesn’t seem to mind.
    â€œI remember,” Shahid says. He flexes one of his skinny arms, and sure enough, there’s a hint of the bicep he’s been building. Then he places the drawing of Gordon in front of me. “And I’m glad you haven’t forgotten Gordon.”
    Maybe Shahid is one person I can read. I know he was worried about me ignoring more than Gordon. Life isn’t quite the same with Ella around. My friendship with Shahid was put through another strainer. But once again, it