Read Online Double Vision by F. T. Bradley - Free Book Online Page B

said. “For Taco Tuesday, I like to eat in the kitchen with Mom. That way it feels more like normal, you know?”
    â€œWe have dinner in front of the TV a lot,” I said as I took my plate. The mini-tacos were arranged in a perfect star pattern, like each one was a point. “My mom’s a nurse, and she’s going to school, too. Most of the time it’s just me, Dad, and Grandpa.”
    â€œMy parents are usually working late,” Ben said. He was trying to cut his taco but only managed to make a big pile of crumbs, meat, and salsa.
    Amy laughed as she picked up a taco. “You should eat with your hands.”
    Ben blushed but then took her lead. I guess they don’t teach tacos at the junior agent boot camp.
    â€œShouldn’t we wait for your mom?” I asked Amy.
    She shook her head. “No. She’s coming, though. . . .” Her voice trailed. “Just a little later than expected.”
    I still felt weird about messing up that perfect plate. But once Amy started eating, making a mess and all, I dug in, too. “These are the best tacos ever.” They really were, no lie. If you ever get to visit the White House, I highly suggest you order the taco plate.
    I was about to ask if I could have more when President Griffin walked in. Now, that will make you choke on your dinner, let me tell you.
    Ben jumped up, like he was at attention or something.
    â€œI’m so sorry I’m late.” President Griffin kissed Amy on the head. “This presidential ball . . . Never mind. I wasn’t going to miss out on Taco Tuesday.”
    â€œI can see why,” I said. “I’m ready for seconds.”
    â€œGood. And you can sit down, Benjamin.”
    Ben sat back down, looking a little lost. “Ma’am.”
    President Griffin pulled up a chair, and the chef brought her a plate like ours along with a glass of water. “You can call me by my first name, guys. I’m Dorothy.” She rolled up the sleeves of her crisp white blouse. “I’m off duty for the next half hour.”
    Amy looked really happy with that.
    â€œI love Taco Tuesday.” President Griffin (I couldn’t call her Dorothy, come on now) took her first bite of taco and closed her eyes as she chewed.
    Ben and I got seconds while Amy and her mom argued over the latest episode of some show I didn’t watch. It was like our dinner table, only we were at the White House. It was weird. Ben and I mostly listened.
    By eight o’clock, President Griffin folded her napkin and placed it on her empty plate. “I have a few more briefs to goover,” she said with a sigh.
    â€œYeah, of course.” Amy tried to hide her disappointment, but no one was buying it. “Thanks for coming, Mom.”
    â€œWouldn’t miss it.”
    â€œYou guys should have a Waffle Wednesday,” I joked, trying to cheer Amy up. Ben frowned—that guy just didn’t know when a good lame joke was the perfect dessert.
    â€œTurkey Thursday,” Amy said with a smile.
    â€œFalafel Friday,” President Griffin added with a laugh, too. “You’re right, Linc—we need to have dinner together every night, not just on Tuesdays.”
    I was about to tell them about my mom’s spaghetti and meatball dinner when Wilson rushed into the kitchen. “Madam President,” he said, sounding out of breath. “There’s been a development.”
    Ben jumped up again. “The mission?” he asked.
    Wilson nodded. “You kids better come with us.”
    â€œMe too?” Amy asked, practically bouncing out of her seat.
    President Griffin got up and gave Amy a sad smile. “Not you, sweetheart. You need to stay safe.”
    I felt bad, but we had to go. I grabbed my backpack.
    Amy slumped in her seat as we followed Wilson. It felt wrong, leaving her sitting at the kitchen table by herself, but I wasn’t exactly in charge.
    So I tried to