The Millennial Box by Julie Steimle (rainbow fish read aloud TXT) 📕

mouths in protest, but the agent continued with, "There has been a great deal of difficult history between the both of us. The point is, Mr. Streigle, is that we will need to have a further discussion with you about your nephew's activities - as we still don't think this clears the air."

"Difficult history?" Zormna snapped, fists on hips. "You mean like you kidnapping me off the street, and oh - my great aunt getting murdered because you people had mole that - "

"Are you really going to bring up something you have neither memory nor proof of?" Agent Keane snapped back, facing her.

Jeff rolled his eyes. "Who says we don't have proof? Or witnesses?"

"Excuse me?" Agent Hayworth interjected.

But Agent Sicamore pinched the ridge of his nose and moaned in protest. "Enough. We need to go."

"How is that enough?" Uncle Orren stared at them. "You laid out some serious allegations. You - "

"Hey," Jeff interjected, shaking his head. "Uncle, it doesn't really matter. We're clearing my name. And this will do it."

Yet Uncle Orren scowled. It was an exemplary act. All the agents seemed fooled. And as for Steele, he watched in enigmatic silence. He clearly had not been informed about the goings-on between Jeff, Zormna, and the FBI beyond the detail that Jeff had threatened Agent Sicamore's family. All of them went out together, none of them looking quite satisfied, and yet determined to get the answers they were seeking.

Zormna watched from the front window as their government visitors left the house. She whispered to Eric, "Search the house for bugs."

Nodding, Eric quickly passed on the message to Uncle Orren who said as part of running commentary, "What are you doing?"

"Nothin'," Eric said in flawless English as he extracted two bugs from around the coffee table in the living room.

Aaron found a few more inside their back room.

Stepping up to Zormna's side, Jeff peered out the front window also.

"Tell me the truth," Jeff finally said to her once the FBI agents were gone.  "Do you think they'll keep their promise and include us in their final bust for the box? Or do you think they'll just try to get it first and leave us out?"

Grimly staring at the man on the motorcycle who was still on the curb, she murmured, "I'm not sure. I've watched them. They seem like they might actually be on the up and up. At least Agent Sicamore is. He takes us seriously whereas the other still see us as kids. And yet, I do believe they will attempt to get to the box first."

Sighing, Jeff nodded. "That's what I thought." But before he turned from the window he noticed that Steele was still sitting on the curb, watching Zormna.

Zormna shook herself from chills, stepping away from the window. "I don't like the way he looks at me."

He glanced back and narrowed his eyes to see better. "Ignore him. He's just an old fly. He won't bother us."

Rolling her eyes back at him, Zormna grumbled. "Oh sure, you're saying that only because he isn't leering at you."

Jeff laughed. "Well, I certainly would get nervous if he leered at me." He pulled the curtains closed. "But you forget that you're unusually good looking and more likely to be looked at."

Eric snickered nearby and walked into the kitchen to avoid the immediate dirty looks Zormna was shooting at Jeff. He carried the bugs he had found, now searching for something to smash them with.

"It's not like I can help it, Jafarr." Zormna scowled at him.

Jeff laughed. "That's right. 'Don't hate me because I'm beautiful.'"

A laugh echoed from the kitchen, joined by Alex's voice.

Clenching her teeth, Zormna stomped to the front door, swinging her fist at Jeff, though not really trying to hurt him. "You jerk. You think it's funny? Why don't you try having dirty old men hitting on you all the time?"

Jeff attempted to sober up, but he was finding this too amusing.

"I'll have you know that it is no fun being what people call pretty. I have no peace." Zormna's glare intensified. The funny thing was, when she glared, her green eyes lit up so they sparkled and her cheeks flushed, giving them that rare blush and that only made her look more striking - the look people compared to a goddess angered.

"Oh, really?" Jeff rolled his eyes. "How is it? I'd love it if girls found me instantly attractive. I wouldn't have to beg for a date."

Zormna poked him in the chest. "You don't have to beg for a date. Joy would go with you in an instant."

Jeff stepped back a pace.

But the others didn't seem to hear.

"Girls flocking to you, and you wouldn't have to do anything...." Alex said, stepping out of the kitchen with a sandwich in his hands and a dreamy expression on his face.

"Or better," broke in Eric, "You could get the girl you want, even if she is typically stubborn and known to be very picky and pigheaded." He smirked, glancing briefly at Jeff and Zormna.

Zormna narrowed her eyes so that they were slits.

"It isn't like that at all." She growled. "Maybe for men, the guys might admire him for getting the girls so easily, but for women the other girls tear her apart. AND," she said, raising her voice, "And you get all kinds of men that want nothing more than to touch you. AND they don't even care about what you think, or feel, or how much you know. They just see a body."

Jeff tried to stop her, raising a finger - but she would not let him.

"AND," Zormna said, staring fiercely at him, "I have already had thirty unwanted marriage proposals by men who would not have given spit for me if I was any plainer. I hate it."

Jeff closed his mouth, eyes wide.

"Thirty?" Alex exclaimed.

Eric only smiled, looking her up and down and nodding approvingly.

Zormna rolled her eyes acidly at him. "It was a while ago. But I was only twelve then, and thirty men in one month proposed to me while I was working in the uppercity. It was repulsive."

Jeff blinked at her, a little confused. "When did you...?"

"It was before we met," Zormna growled with a scowl. "I was under suspension for something I didn't do. That court-martial I told you about."

He nodded. It was probably for the betting scam or disobeying a superior officer that he had read about from her files years ago. She knew he knew her record so she did not need to say anything else.

"And with people leering at me," pointing through the window to the outside, where the motorcycle had been - Steele was gone - Zormna said, "especially one old enough to be my father - if not older - it makes me sick."

Nodding, "Ok, ok. I get the point," Jeff said.

Zormna pulled on the doorknob.

"You're going?" he asked, watching her.

Zormna nodded, still scowling. "I have to. I told the McLennas that I was going to be back for dinner. Mr. McLenna has been counting the minutes I spend with you ever since we came back from Florida."

Everyone in the house emitted an understanding breath. They had already heard about the flack Jeff was getting at school, and the rumors. Not that that it was unexpected. But that it was making life for all a little more strained.

Jeff sighed and nodded. "I see."

Turning the knob, Zormna yanked the door open and walked out into the cold November air. She marching quickly down the leaf-lined street before he could accompany her.

Monday came without a word from the FBI. Not that Jeff was worried. On the contrary, he had other things on his mind. He still had a sonnet to write for Mr. Humphries. It was due on the seventeenth of December. He also had to plan the trip back to Florida, hoping to take a car this time since it would be easier to take Zormna and rest in a car. However, he decided the trip would be easier than the sonnet.

"Poetry is a spoken song that reaches into the heart, which is probably why most poems are about love," Mr. Humphries said, gazing over the textbook to the class.

They were waiting in their seats, praying they would not have to read another of Shakespeare's sonnets. The girls were still snickering behind Zormna's back, and Zormna was trying hard to ignore them. Jeff no longer got looks from his friends, which made it more bearable for him - except that they were constantly reading love poems in English class.

"We will be reading a pair of poems, one written by Christopher Marlow," Mr. Humphries said as a small relieved sigh went through the room, "the other in answer to it, by Sir Walter Raleigh. They are on pages two hundred and five and two hundred and six."

The students opened their texts and looked at the pages. Two long poems sat there. A low moan echoed within the room.

Mr. Humphries frowned. "Really. You could be a little more enthusiastic." He then glanced around the room and picked a student to read the first poem.

The boy stood up.

"Come live with me and be my love,

And we will all the pleasures prove

That hills and valleys, dales and fields,

Or woods of steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit...."

 

Zormna almost nodded off, staring at the page and following the words as her classmate read them. She really was not thinking about her text. She had caught up on her homework from last week and had been struggling with her new assignments, especially the sonnet. It was one thing to speak English, quite another to write poetry. Zormna moaned inside. She was not even good at poetry at home. Creative things were always a bit beyond her grasp. How could she write a sonnet in English?

 

       "...For thy delight each May morning:

       If these delights thy mind may move,

Then live with me and be my Love."

      

Their classmate sat down, relieved of the weight of his textbook.

"Good." Mr. Humphries smiled and nodded. "And the message of the text?"

The boy shrugged. "It's about love."

The class snickered.

Shaking his head, Mr. Humphries replied, "Yes, yes. But what about love? Love's great? Love stinks?"

Another snicker passed through the room.

Adam raised his hand. Mr. Humphries nodded, and Adam stood up.

"He is trying to convince someone to be his...uh...Love," he said and sat down.

Mr. Humphries nodded. "True. I think the question is: is this love received?" He glanced at all the faces around the room. "Well, is it?"

No one said anything.

"Well, let's read the next poem. It was written in response to the first, and it might give us an answer." He nodded and looked across the room. "Miss Henderson, will you read?"

Joy nodded and stood up, hefting her heavy text in her arms.

                  

                   "If all the world and love were young,

                   And truth in every shepherd's tongue,

                   These pretty pleasures might me move

                   To live with thee and be thy Love.

 

                   But Time drives flocks from field to fold;

                   When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;

                   And Philomel becometh dumb;

                   The rest complains of cares to come.

                  

                   The flowers do fade, and wanton fields

                   To wayward Winter reckoning yields:

                   A honey tongue, a heart of gall,

                   Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall...."

 

Zormna listened to Joy's reading, and in her tone sparked a certain strain of sincerity and personal meaning. So much that Zormna turned around and stared at her. Joy read each verse as if she knew them.

      

                   "...But could youth last, and love still breed,

                   Had joys no date, nor age no need,

                   Then these delights my mind might move

                   To live with thee and be thy Love."

 

Joy sat down, placing her heavy text back on her desk.

Mr. Humphries nodded and then asked the question again. "What are these poems about, and don't answer love."

Joy stood up again and said plainly, "Unreturned love. He likes her, but she doesn't think his offers are real or lasting so she doesn't return it."

The teacher smiled. "Very interesting answer." He then