“Hi,” Theo said politely, his voice cracking. “Are you the FBI?”

Rick laughed and stepped past him, entering a foyer with polished wooden floors. Tilly followed, her hand still resting on her holster. The house was cold.

“Yes, we are, kid. And I must say that’s the friendliest greeting we’ve ever gotten,” Rick answered as Theo closed the door, quietly leading them to the living room. Ornate cushioned chairs filled the room, their wooden backs curved like scorpion tails.

“Are you home alone?” Tilly asked.

“Yes, it’s just me. My dad works late on Thursdays,” Theo confirmed. “I didn’t expect you to be black,” he blurted.

“Now that’s the regular greeting,” Tilly teased.

“Is it really?” Theo asked.

“No, we don’t normally greet people,” Tilly said. “Sit down.”

Theo sat, his hands in his lap, palms flat, supplicant. His compliance was annoying, Tilly decided. “Check his pockets,” she commanded. Rick shuffled through them, extracting keys, a phone, and a portable fan. Theo smiled at her. Satisfied, Tilly cannily began to circle Theo’s chair, Rick stepping in behind her.

Binary stars in orbit, they paced in cadence, steps synchronized. Rick spoke first.

“So, I’m pretty sure you know why we’re here,” he said.

“Yeah, I’ve got some information about the assault on Stone Mountain that happened earlier this summer.”

“Why do you refer to it as an assault?” Rick asked, his pace slowing.

“Because it was done with the intention of hurting the city.”

“Hurting the city,” Tilly echoed, nudging Rick, who had stopped walking. “How do you know this?”

“Because I did it,” Theo stammered.

“Why?” Tilly asked.

“Because I hate that mountain and what it represents.”

“What does it represent?” Rick asked.

“Racism.”

“Racism?” Tilly asked.

“Yeah, it has Confederate generals on it.”

“It’s also the home of a large black community, and the park is an employer of mostly black workers,” Rick said.

“So was slavery,” Theo retorted, his body loosening.

“You did this by yourself?” Tilly asked, ignoring his sarcasm.

“Absolutely.”

“You, a seventeen-year-old tennis player and rap blogger from Anaheim, California, acquired the code-filled operations manual for a secret government satellite, entered a government facility, disabled the satellite’s remote access panel, then entered an abandoned building in which only four people know the location for the server that connects to that satellite, bypassed that server’s military-grade firewall, overrode the satellite’s protocols, and utilized its onboard laser—also a secret—then escaped?” Rick now stood directly in front of Theo, leaning forward over him like a barber scrutinizing a hairline.

“Yes,” Theo murmured.

“Okay,” Rick said, the edges of his small mouth grasping for his ears. “We’re going to have to take you in.”