Downstairs, he discovered a note from his father positioned prominently on the kitchen counter: «Had to leave early. Mrs. Peterson will drive you to school. Have a good day. – Dad.»
It wasn’t entirely uncharacteristic for his father to depart before dawn, but today, it felt like yet another disappointment. David had genuinely hoped to discuss the school incident further, perhaps even to persuade his dad to engage with Ms. Albright.
Mrs. Peterson, their elderly neighbor who occasionally lent a hand when Robert had early appointments, arrived punctually at 7:30. She drove David to school in her well-worn Volvo, regaling him with anecdotes about her prize-winning petunias and mischievous grandchildren, while David stared blankly out the window, barely registering her words.
«Your father truly toils hard,» she commented as they pulled up to Jefferson Academy’s entrance. «An essential job, though. This country certainly needs dedicated men like him.»
David perked up, a spark of curiosity ignited. «You actually know what my dad does?»
Mrs. Peterson offered a knowing, mysterious smile. «I’ve resided next door to you for six long years, child. I tend to observe things.» Before David could pose any further questions, they had arrived at the school, and the opportune moment had irrevocably passed.
Miles away, Robert Miller occupied a highly classified meeting room nestled deep within the labyrinthine confines of the Pentagon. In stark contrast to the unassuming attire he favored at home, here he was impeccably dressed in a sharply tailored suit, his security badge conspicuously displayed. Gathered around the expansive table were six other individuals: three uniformed military officers and three civilians clad in suits as expensive as his own.
«The cyber attack exhibited remarkable sophistication,» a woman with a sleek, short gray haircut was explaining. «They simultaneously targeted multiple systems, yet our assessment indicates their primary objective was to gain access to the SCADA networks.»
«Any intel on who’s behind it?» inquired a stern Marine Colonel, seated to Robert’s right.
«Not definitively,» the woman replied, «but the distinctive code signatures align with previous incursions attributed to—»
She was abruptly interrupted by a young aide who hurried into the room, leaning in to whisper something discreetly to Robert, whose expression instantly clouded with grim concern.
«When did this transpire?» Robert demanded, his voice sharp.
«Just moments ago, sir. The system flagged it due to your personal security protocols.»
Robert rose abruptly from his chair. «I need to step out. There’s been an unauthorized attempt to access Jefferson Academy’s database.»
The other occupants at the table exchanged bewildered glances. «Jefferson Academy?» the Marine Colonel repeated, a note of disbelief in his voice. «The private school?»
«My son attends there,» Robert stated tersely. «And someone just tried to breach their security system utilizing the identical methodology as the attacks we’ve been tracking.»
Back at Jefferson Academy, David was making every effort to render himself invisible within Ms. Albright’s classroom. Following yesterday’s profound humiliation, the last thing he desired was to attract any further attention to himself. Ms. Albright was currently reviewing their presentations, lavishing effusive praise upon certain students while offering only perfunctory acknowledgments to others.
«Ryan, your father’s endeavors in real estate development are truly shaping the very future of our thriving city!» she gushed with saccharine sweetness. «And Olivia, how utterly fascinating that your mother is involved in the intricate crafting of healthcare policy at such an elevated level!»
When she arrived at David’s presentation, her lips curved into that familiar, patronizing smile. «David, while imagination is undoubtedly a valuable attribute, remember that these presentations were intended to be strictly factual.» Several students snickered, and David sank even lower into his seat. From across the room, Jacob shot him a look of profound sympathy.
After class, as they made their way toward the cafeteria for lunch, Jacob attempted to lift his spirits. «Don’t you pay her any mind, David. She always plays favorites.»
«Easy for you to say,» David muttered, a bitter edge to his voice. «She doesn’t call you a liar in front of everybody.»
Jacob fell silent for a moment. «My dad lost his job yesterday,» he finally confessed, his voice small and vulnerable. «The factory’s shutting down. Mom says we might have to pack up and move if he can’t find something else soon.»
David immediately felt a wave of shame for his earlier self-pity. «I’m so sorry, Jacob. That’s truly awful.»
Jacob shrugged, attempting to project more bravery than he genuinely felt. «It’s fine, we’ll work it out.»
As they entered the bustling cafeteria, David happened to glance out the expansive window. A woman clad in a trench coat stood across the street, seemingly observing the school with intense focus. There was something in her posture—alert, vigilant—that strikingly reminded him of his father.
«Who’s that?» he inquired, pointing discreetly.
Jacob squinted through the glass. «Dunno. Probably just waiting for someone.» But as David continued to watch, the woman raised what appeared to be a small camera and snapped several photographs of the school building before walking away with determined, purposeful strides.
That afternoon, as Robert drove him home from school, David found himself scrutinizing his father with a newfound curiosity. There were aspects of Robert that had always appeared perfectly ordinary: his modest wardrobe, his quiet, reserved demeanor, the way he never boasted about his accomplishments. But other things suddenly stood out as distinctly unusual: the late-night phone calls, the mysterious black SUVs, the meticulous way he scanned their surroundings when they were in public places.
«Dad?» David ventured tentatively. «What exactly do you do at the Pentagon?»
Robert’s eyes remained fixed on the winding road ahead. «You know I’m involved in security operations.»
«But what does that actually mean? What do you spend your days doing?»
A faint smile touched Robert’s lips. «Lots of meetings. Loads of reports. Nothing terribly exciting, I assure you.»
«Then why are there sometimes people watching our house?» David pressed, a note of persistence in his voice.
Robert’s smile faded. «What gives you the impression someone’s watching our house?»
«I saw them last night. And sometimes there are cars parked across the street with people just sitting in them. They never get out.»
After a prolonged silence, Robert finally spoke. «Some things are simply safer if you don’t know too much about them, David. That’s not just me trying to sidestep your questions. It’s the honest truth.»
«But why would it be dangerous for me to know what you do?» David persisted.
«I didn’t say dangerous,» Robert gently corrected him. «I said safer. There’s a subtle but significant difference.»
Before David could formulate another question, his school tablet, resting on his lap, abruptly illuminated with an alert. A sequence of random, enigmatic characters flashed across the screen, then vanished as swiftly as they had appeared.
«What was that?» Robert asked sharply, having caught a fleeting glimpse of the strange text.
«I don’t know,» David said, bewildered. «Just some weird message popped up and then disappeared.»
Robert’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. «Let me take a look at your tablet as soon as we get home.»
Upon their arrival, Robert spent nearly an hour meticulously examining David’s tablet, running what appeared to be sophisticated diagnostic programs from his own laptop. Finally, he handed the device back.
«Everything seems to be back to normal now,» he stated, though the pronounced crease between his eyebrows suggested otherwise. «But David, listen to me very carefully. If anything at all unusual happens at school, anything out of the ordinary, I want you to call me immediately, understand?»
David nodded, increasingly perplexed by his father’s intensity. «Is something wrong, Dad?»
Robert rested his hands on David’s shoulders, looking him directly in the eyes. «Probably not. But I’d much rather be overly cautious than not cautious enough.»
The following day at school, Ms. Albright appeared determined to perpetuate David’s humiliation. As the class delved into a discussion of famous government edifices in Washington, D.C., she pointedly called upon him when they reached the topic of the Pentagon.
«David, since your father supposedly works there,» she declared with a distinct smirk, «perhaps you can enlighten us with something about the Pentagon that isn’t already in our textbooks?»
The class fell quiet, most students grinning in eager anticipation of another embarrassing moment for David. However, David had dedicated the previous evening to voraciously reading everything he could find about the Pentagon, resolute in his determination not to be caught off guard again.
«The Pentagon possesses twice as many restrooms as are actually necessary,» he stated confidently. «It was constructed in the 1940s, during an era when Virginia was still segregated, so they were mandated to install separate facilities for white and black employees. After segregation was abolished, they simply retained all the existing bathrooms.»
Ms. Albright’s smirk faltered almost imperceptibly. She had clearly not expected him to furnish a factual response. «Well,» she remarked after a moment of awkward silence, «that is correct, though hardly pertinent to our discussion of architectural significance.»
«And it also features a hot dog stand situated in the central courtyard that Soviet missiles supposedly targeted during the Cold War,» David continued, warming to his subject with newfound confidence. «They mistakenly believed it was the entrance to some secret bunker because they observed high-ranking officials frequenting it every day. But they were just grabbing lunch.»
A few students chuckled, not derisively this time, but genuinely amused by the unexpected anecdote. Ms. Albright’s lips thinned into a tight line. «That’s quite enough, David. We need to progress with the lesson.»
Nevertheless, this small triumph imbued David with a surge of confidence that sustained him throughout the remainder of the day. As the final bell signaling dismissal rang, Ms. Albright beckoned him back to her desk as the other students filed out.
«David,» she began, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness, but her eyes held a chilling coldness. «I understand you might be going through a phase where you feel compelled to embellish the truth; many children do. But persistently reiterating these ‘Pentagon stories’ is becoming quite disruptive, don’t you think?»
«I’m not making anything up,» David declared firmly, meeting her gaze.
Ms. Albright leaned forward, her smile never quite reaching her eyes. «If your father genuinely works at the Pentagon, why not have him come in to prove it? Parents’ Day is scheduled for next week. That would definitively resolve everything, wouldn’t it?» The challenge embedded in her voice was unmistakable. She was utterly convinced he would capitulate, admit to fabrication, or invent excuses for his father’s unavoidable absence.
Instead, David met her stare with unwavering steadiness. «Fine. He’ll be here.»
For a fleeting second, a flicker of uncertainty darted across Ms. Albright’s face, but she swiftly masked it with her usual patronizing smile. «Wonderful. I eagerly anticipate meeting him.»
