Chapter 3

                                    

                                          

Each file was not the same. Mine had details from the day I was born up until my Dad left eleven years ago. Others had whole sections missing or the very basic information. I'm left staring at the last of the files, the twenty-seventh. Their file was not just sparse but contained nothing. Not a single page is left. But the cracks on the spine told me that once this file was just as big as mine. But who was this mystery child?
"So there's three categories of files; the complete files with names, incomplete files with sections or no-names, and then," I place the 27th down the island, isolated alone from its fellow files. "The nothing."
"But we do have reason to remain positive. Ever heard of Joshua Carter?" Payne lifts up the top folder from the first pile, dishearteningly smaller than the middle pile.
"The actor? From that new movie?"
"The same. Says here he suffers from anger issues. I think his talent is obviously acting and his physical changes look to be the most successful of any of the twenty-seven, even to the point of questioning whether or not his father is his real father or not."
"Why would people so high up risk something as crazy as genetic engineering with their only son?" I finger through the various photos that Payne hands to me, starting all the from baby food commercials to a poster of the first Star Hunter movie. "If tabloids got a hold of this they'd have a field day like they did when the first law banning superficial genetic engineering was passed."
"Probably for the same reason your mom did it. Fame and money. Parents will do anything to guarantee a child's success, even at the expense of the child."
"That's the truth. But how are we ever going to get into contact with such a big shot?" I strain. Everything feels too real now, like we're way in over our heads.
"We can't, but she can," Payne says, as he slides a file from the middle towards me. 
The shock barely registers as I whisper.
"Mina? Mina Tanaka? I go to school with her. Wins awards for academics. Heard she got valedictorian." As I look down I'm even more surprised.
"There's nothing here saying she has any. current issues."
"It would make her an anomaly for sure. Perhaps she really doesn't have one but it doesn't sit right with me. Says here," Payne taps the page most of the way down. "-that her family suddenly cut off contact with your Dad when they were once eager to provide information to him. Maybe they're hiding something?"
"That's true... but how am I supposed to go about getting in contact with her? What am I supposed to say? Hi, I'm Joie Andrews. I'm going on a vigilante mission with another kid to try to get our problems fixed. Wanna join? It doesn't work like that," I bite at my nails. "I don't even have any friends..."
Payne doesn't seem shocked at the admission.
"Is there anything you have in common? A club? It looks like you're good at all that math stuff."
"There's the STEM club after school today but like I said, I've never even talked to her before."
I pinch the bridge of my nose. When Payne talks, his voice is soft like a cloud.
"Then do it for me. For them. For her. Whatever it takes. Don't you want to help people?" Payne says. His blue eyes drill themselves into mine, but I could not return his intense stare. Instead I look to the floor, looking at the familiar cracks and creases.
Three cracks in the floor. Yellow and White. Yellow and White. Yellow and Whi-.
"So Joie," Payne says, breaking me from my reverie. "What do you say?"
"Okay," I say, still looking at the floor.
"That's my girl!" Payne says with his signature smile. I awkwardly return his request for a fist bump.
A red light breaks in fractals over the tile floor, warming the room as the world's most natural wake up clock. I look at the clock above the kitchen sink, its red numbered glare mocking me.
"I need to get to school." I say, beginning to gather each file.
"Don't worry. I got it," Payne says as he gathers the ones on his side. "I'll text pictures of these to my computer guy so I can send them online."
"But I didn't get a chance to se-" But before I got a chance to finish my protest there was nothing but cool air to greet my hands as he takes a file I never got a chance to see.
Before I knew it, the slamming of the front door rang in my ears and I'm left in silence. Left with nothing but yellow walls and my thoughts.
And so begins the routine again. The front door. The back door. The bedroom door. The box under the bed where I keep all your important things in. Paints. Charcoal sticks. Passport. Social Security. Exactly eight hundred and twenty dollars and fifty seven cents. Stove off? Check. The study? Everything as Dad left it, with the Genetic Genealogy degree still hanging on the wall. It still doesn't help. I bite at my nails, even though there isn't much left to bite.
He must have taken something...
But there is nothing left else in the house to check. Instead I busy myself with other useless things. My denim backpack holds forever the same, but I check anyway.
Five pencils. Five pens. Five folders, each with last night's homework.
I stop biting at my nails. I like the number five. It's a good number. A safe number.
I avoid the garage. Its content scares me with its humps of junk. It's where all of Dad's things went when he disappeared on that day. I still remember it clearly, when the walls were still white and the roof didn't leak. The house felt warm and smelled of coffee instead of cigarettes.
 It was my birthday that day and I had waited so long in my room, among the stuffed animals and purple sheets. I had waited for my Dad to come in like he usually did on special days like these, with a cupcake and serenade of happy birthday. But there was nothing but the song of the bird outside my open window.
I bounced down the stairs almost tripping over myself.
"God damn it David, pick up! What do you expect me to do with her? She's your daughter! You can't just leave us," My mom shouted into her cell phone.
She had seen me there, watching with my big yellow eyes. The phone was still up to her ear and she looked at me like she always did, with disapproval.
"Stop it," she had said. "You know how I hate when you make the Grinch face."
Dad had never looked at me with anger or contempt. He treated me as his daughter, even though I was a failure. But now he's gone, like he had never existed at all, his stuff packed away. Even now I can't bring myself to hate him as much as Payne wants me to.
But he did leave me one thing. I had opened the door to that garage, planning to wait there until he came home. Instead I saw a bike. A beautiful cherry hue, its handles just reaching the top of my head, with a bow to match. A sheet of ripped out notebook paper attached to the side.
He did get me a present! I had thought. I read the note, thinking of how proud he would be when I told him I had read it all by myself.
Dear My Joie,
Happy 7th birthday! I'm so sorry I'm not there to celebrate it with you. I hope to see you soon. Have lots of fun with Mom.
P.S. This bike is for when you're older, keep it nice until then.
I was so happy. I waited for hours. I later learned that Andrews Genetics had gone bankrupt. It's one of the reasons I had never opened those files he left, I didn't want to be hurt more than I already had.
Now I climb onto that cherry red bike with its rusted chain and chipping paint and I wish for the Nevada sun to burn all the memories away. A hawk circles about as I ride, as if it were searching for something.