Chapter 1 Teenagers

Jeffrey approached the Mission Control entrance at headquarters and paused. He held a note in his hand, asking him to come here, but he had no idea why. It seemed strange that Bogg wasn't included. He hoped they were going to give him a project of his own. At 15, he was getting very tired of staying with Bogg all the time. In fact, just this morning he'd told him so during a rather nasty argument. It was one that Jeffrey had started on purpose over breakfast and it wasn't the first time they had argued about nothing.

Jeffrey had never really meant to hurt Bogg's feelings, but he knew he had. It was just that he was sick and tired of always walking in Bogg's shadow. It seemed that he was never allowed to be by himself, to be himself. There was always something to do. Something Bogg had decided they should do. Yesterday Jeff had refused to attend a survival training course, not because he didn't want to learn the skills, but simply because Bogg would be there too. Though he would never admit it, he'd regretted not going after it was over.

The door in front of him was suddenly pushed open and a short man left the control center. Jeff shook his head, coming out of his thoughts and finally entered. The room was abuzz with activity. He wondered if it was always this busy.

"Jeffrey, I see you've got my note," Trevor Dillon said as he walked over to the boy.

"Yes, sir, what did you want to see me about?"

Dillon motioned him into a room off to the side and they sat at a conference table. "I didn't want to send you a memo about this, or you to hear it from someone else," he began.

Jeff stared at him, "what is it?"

"Phineas left on a mission an hour or so ago."

"Without me? Why?"

"He was here when an emergency distress signal came in." He paused, "I sent him out right away, he didn't have time to find you." He sat staring at Jeff, ready for an emotional outburst, but Jeff remained quiet.

"What was the emergency?"

"I don't know, but we're tracking him and he seems to be fine."
Jeff nodded, "so you don't know when he'll be back either."

"No, I'm afraid not. He only had a few seconds, but he wrote you this," and Trevor passed Jeff a folded scrap of paper, stapled shut.

Jeff took it slowly. "Thanks," he said softly, still trying to decide how he should feel and act. He put the note in his shirt pocket.

"No problem. I'll keep you posted."

Jeff got up to leave, but stopped at the door and turned back, "Where is he?"


Jeff smiled. He could imagine Bogg enjoying himself in Amsterdam. "When?"

Trevor hesitated, "1942."

Jeff's stomach tightened up. He nodded soberly and left.