Cassandra White: Housewife of the Night | Teen Ink

Cassandra White: Housewife of the Night

June 19, 2018
By JMason-paramusschools, Paramus, New Jersey
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JMason-paramusschools, Paramus, New Jersey
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Favorite Quote:
It always seems impossible until it's done.














Nelson Mandela


Author's note:

I got the idea for the main character from an author named Cassandra Clare. I saw my friend Mya reading one of her books and thought it was a perfect spy name.

73 cases solved.

21 explosives defused.

138 lives saved.

 0 enemies killed.

These were some of the facts my classified personnel file held. All of my proudly held statistics were in this file. I take the thick folder and put it in the side of my box. Then I put my stapler, mousepad, watch, firearm, and finally my photo. The photo I took with all my new friends when I became part of the CANS.

I worked so hard to get this. Everything I ever wanted. My dream job. Everything I ever worked for shoved into a box. I look back at the huge lump that is my stomach.

“I know it’s for the best,” I say. “Everything will be alright. I’m sure of it.” I look back at the picture. I just know it. This new life may not be what I expected, but it’ll be...

Fantastic. That's what I always say when I see someone or something is doing well. In this case it’s my garden. The reddest tomatoes. The brightest daffodils. The most amazing anemones and amaryllises. All in separate columns brightening the yard like a colored desk lamp. I rise from my squat and brush the dirt off my sweatpants I’m wearing, even though it’s May. I walk up the wide path up to the house to meet my greatest architectural enemy of all time-- the door.

I hate this stupid door. How it won’t open without me having to shake my key like xbox controller that won’t stop shutting off just so it’ll open. What are landlords good for anyway? They make the house seem so perfect and then when you see the littlest(but most annoying) problem they refuse to help. Here’s a message for all you landlords out there-- fix your dumb doorknobs!

When I finally open the door I see my second greatest wish. Two children playing Mario Kart, a husband trying to make dinner, and a golden retriever sleeping on the coffee table(which is surprisingly comfortable if you get the right position). What I now call after 7 years a perfect family.

I quickly sprint to the couch and grab the third Wii controller. It’s smooth sleek design guarantees its holder great speed and good items. I connect the controller and get ready to dominate my twin children again.

“Alright mom,” Greg starts. “ This time the heart of the cards is with us!”

“Yeah!” Kara adds. “We’ve constructed the ultimate plan to stop your streak and get our first win against you!”

After seven years you’d think they’d learn. Although they’ll never stop me, it makes me feel good to know my kids are persistent and refuse to give up. They must’ve got it from me.

As the Lakitu begins the countdown I rev up my engine. The second the green light is shown I boost forward. I quickly complete the first lap blocking all the red shells that come my way. The classic start to the game. Kara and Greg driving side my side throwing everything they can to try and stop me. But first place stays in my possession. Sadly, all good things must come to an end, especially when Kara gets a blue shell.

It quickly flies through the course until it hovers over me and within seconds BOOM-- I’m down to 0 mph. Not soon after Kara and Greg pass by me.

“Yes!” the twins yell together. I love it when they do the same thing at the same time. Especially when it comes to cute sneezes. Farts, not so much. I quickly get back on their tail. That’s when the twins bust out their great plan-- bananas.

In a matter of seconds the twins scatter 8 bananas in front of the finish line. One of the many benefits of double items. They drive to opposite sides of the finish line to watch me slip and slide around until I accept my defeat. But I never do.

I grab the last item box in sight. The items seem to spin faster the closer I get. The item I get will decide whether my streak privailes or not.

A bob-omb. Looks like the heart of the cards is with me instead.

I launch the bob-omb into the air and it lands smack in the middle of the entourage of bananas. It explodes, disintegrating all the bananas and blowing away my two children as I drive through the explosion and past the checkered finish line.

Fantastic

“NOOOOO!” they scream. The classic ending to a race. Greg gets out his notepad and gives the plan Banana Blockade a big red F. He immediately flips the page and the twins start discussing their next plan while I walk to the kitchen.

I remember when I was allowed to drive that fast in real life.

Krypto looks at me and a smile spreads across his slobbery face, which puts a smile on mine.

Five years ago I realized the twins were getting tired of playing with blocks and cooking toys I decided to get them a dog. I didn’t know what kind of dog(although Greg had a weird obsession with poodles at the time), but I knew when I saw Krypto. I was walking through the pound wishing I could free all the dogs from their captivity but knowing I can only adopt one. I squatted in front of a cage . I saw a small dog with golden fur whimpering in a corner. Suddenly it turned around and angrily barked.

I realized it wasn’t barking at me, but my emerald necklace. I immediately thought of the dog hating my necklace like Superman hating kryptonite. That’s when I knew what to call him. Thankfully, the kids liked the name when I got home with a 3 pound golden retriever in my arms. He felt like another child. We had only just met but it felt like we were long lost relatives.

I pass Krypto and his sacred coffee table and enter the kitchen where my terrible cook husband is yet again trying to make spaghetti.

“When are you going to learn the noodles have to cook before you put the sauce in the pot?” I ask in a polite but sarcastic way.

“The day you find another man that can write 3 bestseller books in a timespan of 2 years while changing diapers!” Lawrence boasts. An author like him can type for hours without getting a cramp but can’t seem to remember where the utensil drawer is. I look at the pot and notice something Lawrence never saw. I immediately ran to the backyard and came back with a water pistol. I filled the pistol with cooking oil.

I grab the pot from Lawrence and swiftly launch the spaghetti up and out of the pan with my right hand. Then I use my left hand to squirt the oil into the pot, making sure to get all around the walls of the pot. I quickly move back my left hand as the spaghetti falls back into the pot.

I glance at Lawrence, whose jaw is almost as wide as Kara’s hand. I start walking away from the stove.

“And that’s how you cook.” I say with the smuggest grin on my face. Maybe the spaghetti wont burn this time. Maybe.

I remember when I used those skills for more than just cooking.

The author's comments:

In case anyone is confused, the mirror locker is a device I made up that's basically a locker with a mirror attached to the front. Inside the mirror is an AI system that communicates with Shadow, who assignes the missions. This is how Cassandra is given the missions and case files.

I walk up the stairs and enter the bedhall. It’s what I call the long hallway filled with all of our bedrooms. I enter Lawrence and I’s room. I stare at the mirror. I see myself in dirty sweatpants, a t-shirt covered in mud, and a blue North Carolina cap.

What ever happened to wearing black jumpsuits everyday?

I press my hand against the mirror. A green line scans it up and down twice.

“Identity confirmed,” the computer says. “Cassandra White,FBI agent,part of the Classified Agency of National Security.”

Funny. I haven’t opened my mirror locker in so long it still doesn’t know I’m retired. Although I haven't updated it in a while.

“Current cases:1,” it says. I can tell it’s getting glitchy from all the dust in its mainframe. I decide to reboot the system.

“Mirror Locker 1509,” I say. “Reboot system.”

A whirring sound begins. The mirror blinks a red light twice and a green light seven times. After a couple seconds, the mirror says “Reboot complete,” in a much clearer voice. “ Current cases:0.” My heart drops.

I speed walk to the bed and lay down. I feel like I might throw up. Everything taken away from me just to live a normal life with a normal family in a normal town. I look at a picture on the dresser. It’s me standing with my new family. Greg on the left, Kara on the right, Lawrence with his arm around me. My normal family.

Was it worth it?

 

*** Three Weeks Later***


The kids sprint for the bus stop after eating their scrambled eggs(even though they’re 15 minutes early). I wash the pan I used for their breakfast. Lawrence is at a conference with his author friends in New York. They’re thinking of doing a collab to make the “greatest and most epic story book in the history of the cosmos”. I love it when he gets super excited. Now it’s just me at home. By myself. Besides Krypto.

I never realized how boring I am in my free time until now. Wash dishes, play Arms, polish electronics, hang out with Krypto, I’m so bland. Like a slice of wheat bread. I’m looking for something cool to do when my phone rings.I go to the coffee table(that Krypto surprisingly isn’t sleeping on) and grab my phone. I press the green button.

“Hello?” I say.

“‘No Luke, I am your father,’” the mysterious voice says. My eyes widen as the memories flooded my brain. We used to use that Star Wars quote to communicate other agents and double agents during missions. Most people mistake this quote with “Luke, I am your father” so the FBI decided to use the misunderstanding to their advantage. How agents would respond to this is saying no for seven seconds.

“Nooo(1)oooo(2)oooo(3)oooo(4)oooo(5)oooo(6)oooo(7)!” I yell.

Is CANS trying to contact me again? After I left Washington DC?

“I’m thankful you still know our secret quote Cassandra,” he says. “It sure has been a while.”

“Who are you?” I ask, my voice getting serious. “And how do you know me?”

“You already know who this is Cassandra,” he says. “ And you’re Agent 79… one of our best agents in the CANS district.

I do know him. They called him the Shadow, because he never shows his face. He’s the head of the FBI.

“Why are you calling me,” I inquir. “You know I’m retired. I have no cases. I left before I solved my last one.”

“I know,” he responds. “But when you left no other agents could get any new information on the case. And the main enemy organization of the case yielded activity after you left. But they’ve returned. They robbed a bank in Detroit last month. I hesitated to call you considering why you left.”

“But I’m still retired(even though I’m only 37). Why don’t you put another agent on the case?” I ask.

“Why don’t you check your mirror locker Cassandra,” Shadow says.

I walk over from the coffee table to my room. I scan my hand. The screen reads in green pixelated letters  0 Cases. Suddenly the mirror starts to make the whirring sound again. The blinking lights appear again. Out of nowhere the 0 turns into a 1.

Did he reboot my mirror locker remotely?

“You’re the only agent good enough for this case,” Shadow says. “I’ll give you some time to think about it. Be sure to contact me in a week Cassandra, or should I say, White Viper.”

My spy name.

I read the Mother’s Day card framed on my desk. WE LOVE MOMMY.

My family name.

I lay the phone on my desk.

Did that just happen?

***Five Days Later***

I’m ready.

It’s 11:05 at night. The kids are asleep and Lawrence is still in New York, giving me the chance to sneak out.

To return to my job as a spy.

The new black jumpsuit Shadow sent me fits perfectly. It’s flexible and soft, just like the old one. Shadow said to go to the local soccer field for helicopter extraction. I touch my pistol in its holster.

Just in case.

I drive to the field and see a black helicopter sitting in the middle of it. I don’t see a pilot. But there are three people sitting in the passenger seats. One of them waves at me.

“Hello,” he says loudly. “We’re your new teammates!”

“You idiot Dusk!” another one says. “What if she’s not the one?”

“She’s the right one Birch,” another says. “She has the jumpsuit.”

I climb in the helicopter and buckle my seatbelt. I look up to see them all staring at me like I have four eyes.

“My name’s Twilight,” one says. “And this is Birch and Dusk.” The two boys wave at me after she introduced them. “You must be White Viper!”

“Yes I am,” I say, proud that they know me. “Best agent of the 1990’s to early 2000’s.”

“Enough small talk,” Birch says seriously. “As you read in the case file, the Continental Organization of Destruction is planning on using a missile to blow up the Senate building. This is the first sign of activity from this organization since White Viper left without solving the case. The missile is hidden in a warehouse in Pennsylvania. From here in North Carolina, that’s pretty far. But we’ll still complete the mission in one night. They’re planning to fire it to Washington by 10 am tomorrow, so we don’t have time for messing around. We go in, defuse the missile and get out. That’s it.”

“Kaliber,” Dusk says. “Send us to the rendezvous point.”

“Yes sir,” the AI piloting the helicopter says. I’m shocked how much the FBI has changed. “Setting course for… Pennsylvania.”

***Three Hours Later***

We land on top of an abandoned building. We all climb out of the helicopter in our awesome black spy suits. Then we make our move. Jumping from roof to roof we travel three blocks from the landing spot all the way to the warehouse. We split into teams; Twilight and Dusk will drive a car into the front of the warehouse drawing the guards’ attention while Birch and I defuse the missile. We stay at the back entrance of the warehouse and wait to hear the crash. After two minutes we hear a screeching sound and a big thud. That’s our que.

“Come on Birch,” I whisper, taking lead through the backdoor. We crouch past boxes and crates until we finally find the missile in the center of the warehouse. There are twelve guards. Eight are dealing with the crashed car, but four are still guarding the missile control system.

“Here’s the plan,” I whisper. “I’ll take the two on the left, you take the two on the right.” Birch gives me a thumbs up for approval. Then we go in. I slide in kicking the leg of one guard with my right foot while using my taser to taze the other’s stomach. I roll over on my back and use my left foot to kick the guard’s head into the pavement. Then I spin my body on the floor and use both legs to trip the other guard, slamming his head into the ground. I look around the base of the missile to see Birch’s enemies are also unconscious.

“Look’s like you still got your stuff Viper.” he says. I don’t know if I should say thanks or kick him in the shin.

It takes a couple seconds, but I rip the bolted in cover off the missile’s base. I see an armada of wires and lights. Neither Birch nor I have seen tech this advanced.

This reminds me of the Banana Blockade. However, I shouldn’t use an explosive to destroy the mainframe because that’ll explode the missile too. But maybe it doesn’t have to be an explosive…

I realize what I have to do. I whip out my taser and find the one circuit board all the wires lead to and taze it. Within seconds not only does the missile shut down, but the power to the entire warehouse. The guards are talking to each other wondering what how the power went out. Luckily for us, we have night vision glasses.

Birch and I activate the glasses and find our way back out the back door seconds before someone finds the unconscious bodies of their comrades. He head back to the helicopter and are greeted by Dusk and Twilight.

“Glad you two made it back,” Dusk says happily. “We got worried.”

“Now that the missile is defused and the Senate is safe, let’s go home.” Twilight cheers. Fantastic.

The author's comments:

I specifically made this chapter shorter just so the entire thing would be focused on Cassandra's realization. I felt it was a very crucial moment in the story and combining it with another crucial event would dull its importance.

***Three Hours Later***


I park the car in the driveway and walk up to my front door. I’m ready to fight with my doorknob again but surprised when I see the door wide open. The twins probably forgot to close it when they went to the bus stop. I walk in and begin to inquire something more happened when I was gone. The couch cushions are on the floor, there’s shattered glass on the floor, and dirty footprints on the floor. Footprints much bigger than my children’s feet.

I trip on Greg’s backpack. I move it back into the corner where it belongs. That’s when I realize Greg left his backpack at home.

No worries. I’ll just bring it to him at school. But I also realize something more shocking.

Kara left her backpack too.

That’s weird. Kara doesn’t often forget. Especially something as critical as her backpack. This either means Kara needs to eat more brain food or… the twins never went to school.

My confusion turns to anger. How dare they think just because I’m gone they can do whatever they want! I march upstairs. “Greg and Kara! Who do you think you are that your can just…”

I freeze. My eyes widen at the sight of little holes in the ceiling of the bedhall.

Bullet holes.

I rush to Greg’s room. Empty.

I rush to Kara’s room. Empty.

I rush to my room. There’s a note on the bed. I pick it up. It reads:

You ruin my missile.

I ruin your life.

Come to the abandoned YMCA building

12:00 pm

Be there, or else


My anger turns to a feeling I’ve never felt before. A feeling of hatred. A feeling of regret. I failed. I let my own ambitions get ahead of my family. I failed as a spy.

But most importantly, I failed as a mother.

I read the paper again and again, each read sinking my heart lower and lower until I was on my knees.

I knew what I had to do.

“Mirror locker 1509,” I say. “ Call the CANS. It’s time for a family reunion.”

I stand on top of a building across the YMCA building. Behind me is the ultimate rescue team. All the CANS. All my new teammates from the Pennsylvania mission. And a police force to sum it up.

“Okay team,” I start. “Whoever took my kids is probably the head of COD. We don’t know what to expect, so stay vigilant.

“Our cardiac scanner is picking up forty two heartbeats,” Twilight adds. “That means there are forty enemies in the building.

“The police troop has scouted the perimeter,” Birch says. “It’s all clear.”

One of my old CANS partner, Silver Knot, pats me on the back. “We’ll get them back. Don’t worry.”

“YEAH!” the rest of the CANS yell. I smile.

I look back at the building. Somewhere in there, my kids are waiting for me. Begging for me to come save them. And I won't disappoint them again.

“Move in,” I command. And just like that, the retaliation begins.

CRASH! Two SWAT trucks bash through the brick front of the buildings. SWAT officers and members of CANS bust out of the trucks, throwing smoke and flash grenades. I’m on top of the building, climbing through a skylight. When the smoke parts, it’s a huge fist fight; the CANS and SWAT verses the CODs.

That should keep all the henchmen busy.

I run above the fight and into a corridor of rooms. I’m sprinting through the hallway looking for the twins when a armored man with an LMG bursts out of a room and fires at me. I dive into a room. I realize these rooms are classrooms. I spot a metal drawer and get an idea.

“AAAAAAAH!” I scream as I charge at the armored enemy, shielding myself from the bullets with the metal drawer until I get close to him. Then I ram the drawer into his face, knocking him unconscious. I keep moving. Fantastic.

I sprint past several classrooms until I find the last room, where a man with a curly mustache is holding my two children by gunpoint. I quickly draw my gun.

“You know Cassandra,” the man says. “ I really don’t like your people. All effortful, caring, loving people like you make me sick! ESPECIALLY when they plot against my actions!”

“What’s your deal?” I ask demandingly. “What’s your connection with COD?”

He laughs. “What’s MY deal with COD? I CREATED it!!! I built COD from the ground up with constant technological advances!

“And what do you plan on doing with this organization in the future?” I ask.

“Everyone in COD is a misfit,” he says. “A loser. A human being whose tired of being ignored by the government! We just wanted to be heard! Now, we’ll have to take matters into our own hands!” He presses the gun harder against Greg’s head. Kara is beside him, shivering.

Don’t worry kids. Mommy’s here now. I’m going to make things right.

“I know how you feel,” I sympathize. “When you think everything is lost. But sometimes you need to let change happen, even if you don’t want it.”

He doesn’t respond. He stands there, staring at me. He releases his hold on my kids and they sprint to me like Usain Bolt.

“Mommy!” they yell. I hug them as tight as my jeans from my teenage years.

“So sweet,” he says. “I wish someone loved me like that.

“We can get you help sir,” I say. “You don’t have to feel alone.”

“I don’t need your help!” he screams. “I’m pulling the strings here!” He pulls a flip phone from his pocket. It has duct tape around it. I realize my mistake. The missile could never be activated from the mainframe. It was triggered remotely.

“Nooo!” I yell as a sinister smile spreads across his face. I leap towards him and we both fall out the window. We punch each other on the way down until we hit the pavement. The man is laying on the ground, dazed.

“What’s your name?” I ask, hoping to get some information.

“Ricardo Demise,” he says. “And know, the Senate will meet their demise! Suddenly I see him reach for something. It’s the phone. I have no time to get it before him. I grab my gun from the ground.

Aim.

Fire.

Blood splatters on the floor as Ricardo falls back down. There’s a hole in his chest, right where his heart is. I feel dreary. Sleepy. The CANS find me after the fight, fast asleep, next to my deceased enemy.

***One Week Later***

74 cases solved

21 explosives defused

240 lives saved

1 enemy killed

Those were the new facts in my personnel file. Shadow sent me a new updated one. I came clean to the kids and told them everything about my job and life before them. They promised not to tell a soul. Even Krypto raised his paw as an oath. Lawrence still doesn’t know what happened. I’ll tell him at some point. The kids still play Mario Kart, Lawrence still tries to cook, and I’m still a housewife.

“Hurry up Cass!” Lawrence yells. “The kids want their presents!”It’s the twins’ 8th birthday. I’m upstairs opening my mirror locker and grabbing two Macbooks. I start to run back out when I suddenly hear a whirring sound.

“Reboot complete,” it says. “Current cases:1.”

A smile spreads across my face.

Fantastic.



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