During one of his high school's summer breaks, puberty had been kind to Kit and his wardrobe. Due to a growth spurt, he outgrew most of his clothes while growing nicely into others. Around this time, he got a rather stylish haircut and “acquired” some new sneakers to replace the boots he wore throughout his childhood. When the new school year started, his transformation overcame the stigma of his thuggish reputation that remained even after he left that gang.

He changed his life around and now people were finally beginning to recognize him as being hard working and studious. Initially, people simply didn't recognize him at all, with some even mistaking him for being a new transfer student. Eventually, most people realized who he was, but this only made him more famous and remarkable. He gained a following of sorts in the form of a growing gaggle of girls that seemed to always be around him. They were hangers-on that constantly flirted with him, and while some of these girls were friends with one-another, they generally sabotaged his attempts to get to know any of them individually.

They quickly became more aggressive and more direct, professing their own undying love for him while painting their competitors as being disingenuous and unironically duplicitous. Neither Shin nor Tessa were around him during this time, each for their own reasons, and a lot of Kit's friends had been in, or were related to, the gang. Up until that point, even his good friends in the gang would unintentionally keep drawing him back into gang-related affairs, and so for him to truly leave he had to cut ties with all of them.

He was alone and lacked the skills needed to deal with high school social drama. However, it wasn't so much that he didn't know what to do, but rather what he did do was “creative and disastrous,” and from what Shin learned, some of his efforts were hilarious. Kit banned Shin from tell me about specific details when he found out that I was snooping, but from what I understand, Kit tried to “manage” the group of girls in a way similar to how he managed his subordinates in the gang.

And that's as close as I'd been able get. From there, the details become vague and sketchy. There's just a gap that takes up most of the 11th grade, and part of the 12th grade. When asked about this period, both of them, alone, were always evasive, and I'd always have trouble getting them in the same room at the same time after probing too deeply into this subject.

Questions remained about how this fits into his grungy clothing style or how Shin and Tessa eventually returned to him. Something happened between Kit and Shin, and my best guess is that it relates to some of Shin's revelations at the end.

That's the best I can do. Someone else in my family will have to figure out the rest.

Mr. Author had paused the video and was staring at me while I was lost in my thoughts with a likely pensive expression. This man was more intuitive or observant than I gave him credit for.

He deserved a reward, but I didn't have any cookies at the moment, so I said, seriously, "I still don't know what happened. Even now, they won't talk about it. My only guess is—" but then he raised a hand to silence me.

"I assume you have more of this," and he waved his hand with a flourish, then finger quoted, "footage."

I said, "Yup," plainly, and waited for Mr. Author to continue. He was hooked, and he didn't even complain about the size of the video player.

Speaking in hushed tones, he said, "It's better if I'm not biased towards your theories in this," then after a few moments of hesitation, he added, "You're after some sort of book deal, right?" I nodded. "Then it would help if I could interview each of them on their own."

"Of course," I said. "Just not today."

He scowled at my simple response. I could see the gears turning in his head, and I was now convinced that I ended up with one of the better, “Mr. Authors.” He'll need a few moments to process this.

Despite my many talents, I wasn't much of a writer, … at least, compared to a professional. Mr. Author's function in that respect is relatively straight forward.

Then there's the fallout and aftermath at the end of this scenario to deal with, and I wanted to avoid doing that if I could. Hopefully, my literary agent will be able to help with some of that, and for the rest, there are those handlers from my family that I set them up with.

This was ultimately about the money and contribution points, but just as with everything else I do, there were additional goals I had in mind. After all, she finally made contact with me again, after all these years. Even though it was just a one-word childish insult—that I totally deserved—it's proof that, perhaps, she has been watching us this whole time. Honestly, if that had been the only goal of this scenario, then I'd personally consider it a huge success.

As for the other goals, I am not terribly optimistic.

Then again, we're a bit overdue for a major exposé on my family, and I think this will be the first for this millennium. My approach could garner me plenty of points, even if it doesn't become popular. But if the book does becomes popular, then that will secure my standing with the Neutrality Faction for awhile.

Its popularity should please the Persistence Faction, and the Prosperity Faction will like the royalties. Since I'm a Green, letting Growth manage the copyright will be enough to satisfy them. They wouldn't want to recognize my work any less than Persistence and Prosperity.

After that, the general public will eventually forget about my family again, as they tend to do with brown people.

Mr. Author seems to be about ready, and just in time to interrupt my machinations. He finally asks, "I take it that there's some sort of time constraint here?"

I think the wait was worth it, so I tell him, "Yeah. We have several more hours, which should be enough time for me to show you the highlights, offer background info, and share my thoughts with you. The rest is footage saved on that," and I pointed to the paused video player.

Then out of the blue he asks, "So, what are you?" and once again, what the fuck.

At this, all I can manage is a "Huh?"

"Are you a government spook or do you work in corporate espionage?"

I shake my head and think, "That's, ‘what the fuck,’ " Then I say, "Neither. I worked for my family and helped manage its many members—my relatives—and its tangible assets," and my voice is calm, casual, and relaxed because its just the usual.

"Is it perverted—" he begins to ask, but before he could finish his question, I cut in with an amused "Pfft, no," while feigning offense. That's a new approach, but still expected. "There's more than enough porn in the world," I tell him, "and it isn't as though the internet is in dire need of more dick pics."

Alas, he just ignores my little joke, and I mourn the death of an unappreciated joke. Instead, Mr. Author continued interrogating me with his harsh whispering.

"Then what is it? Why is your family so much into surveillance?"

"They're not. This surveillance stuff is pretty new."

"Then, What Is It For?" he said, and I could hear the capitalization of those words in his voice.

We were getting a bit off topic here, and it was time to move on. "Let me put it this way: I hope you are enjoying your free lunches. Don't forget, it expires at summer's end."

His eyes went wide and he mouthed, "this was you?" and then takes out the card I made.

I pointed to the card with my chin and said, "Nice work, wouldn't you say?"

He puts it back in his wallet and then begins to examine me again, as if he's seeing me for the first time, and he does this unabashedly with what appears to be suspicious curiosity. It takes him only a moment of thinking before he asks, "Why me?"

"You're the professional writer that showed up today. I wasn't sure when ‘today’ would be, so I simply arranged for there to always be a suitable writer here at the right time of day." Mr. Author looked like he was going to ask that question, and so I might as well get that out of the way now. "And, no. I do not have you under any surveillance," and then I pointed to our security camera and added, "other than that."

Thankfully that had worked. Mr. Author nodded and I resumed the video.

The putative couple were still companionably silent. I realized that, technically, I too had been part of their moment of silence, thinking about that mystery period as they likely were. No doubt this was part of what Mr. Author saw when he caught me lost in my thoughts; a silent moment that spoke volumes.

Then again, Kit had already been staring off into nothingness when the footage began because, by then, he'd already finished his lunch. Shinjiro, on the other hand, was still eating something—probably one of those granola bars that I saw—and on his plate was a still untouched sandwich cut in two.

He looked at his friend's empty plate with an expression of concern that made it seem like his granola bar had suddenly become distasteful. Then, while Kit was apparently distracted by nothingness, Shin took one half of his sandwich and placed it on his friend's plate. On video, Shin's actions appeared to be obviously sneaky. He said, "I keep telling you to pack more food for your lunch," sounding more annoyed than concerned.

As if he knew what was there, Kit picked up the half-sandwich without even looking, and took an overly-dramatic bite, adding an exaggerated and unnecessary "Gomp!" sound effect.

Presumably, the bite alone hadn't been dramatic enough.

After that one bite, he put the half-eaten half-sandwich back on his plate and said, dejectedly, "I already eat most of the food."

"No, you don't," said Shin as soon as Kit finished the sentence. "You just eat more than me, and that's just biology and physics."

At this, Shin squeezed Kit's arm and said, "Where do you think these muscles come from?"

Weakly, he turned to pull his arm away, as if to keep up appearances, but Shin didn't let go.

His gay best friend's hand seemed to linger on his large bicep for a moment too long and then, as if in sudden realization, Shin let go with a quick jerking motion.

Unbeknownst to Shin, Kit smirked for a brief instant while he was turned away. Before he could turn back, his gay best friend swapped his half-eaten half-sandwich with the other still uneaten half. Compared to how sneaky he was when he first did this, Shin now swapped sandwiches with a magician's sleight of hand.

Despite his size, Kit moved gracefully. He sighed and said, "Fine … ," agreeing, but only reluctantly so.

Without looking, he carelessly grabbed the half-sandwich from his plate, and took another overly-dramatic bite, seemingly intent on finishing it off. Between bites he began to say, "I just ate two sandwiches and—"

"Yeah, you had a small breakfast because you didn't want to finish off the cereal," Shin interjected. "Now there's like a little bit left. What am I supposed to do with that?"

Instead of responding, Kit simply finished the half-sandwich in another companionable, if not slightly grumpy, silence. That's when Shin put the original partially eaten half-sandwich back on Kit's plate.

Seeing this he complained, giving a bemoaning, "Hey!" before adding, "I hate when you do that."

Nonetheless, he still finished off this half as well.

Eventually, Shin's mood changed so that he now appeared wistful and unconcerned. He was hard to read sometimes, so this was undoubtedly not how he felt. He said, "You should get going," without any emotion.

"What?"

Shin casually said, "Your girlfriend, you fucking moron."

Kit shot up and said, "Oh, shoot! I forgot. Thanks!"

While he hastily gathered his things, Kit ruffled Shin's hair who just sat there as if he didn't notice it. This might have something to do with the fact that afterwards, his hair looked just as stylishly messy as it was before. Both men grunted their good-byes, but Shin remained where he was, exactly as he was, unmoving and inactive as if he left his body empty and uninhabited. Just as Kit had done before, Shin sat there motionlessly with his elbow on the table and his head propped up lazily by his hand.

As soon as it was clear that Shinjiro had settled into that position, the video briefly sped up. The effect made him look like he was lively, moving at a normal speed and fiddling with something on his lunch tray, but from what I recall, he didn't move much. Then, as soon as the video returned to its normal speed, a man walked into the frame and sat down behind Shin at a nearby table.

That man was, of course, me from several months ago. I—or I should say, “Video-me”—sat there, quietly, while pretending to play with something on—his—err, my phone. There was nothing interesting on my phone. The reality of it being that I was simply waiting for the right moment to finish making my surprise entrance.

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