The Pet
A/N Sorry for not publishing the promised 2 chapters yesterday, readers. I'll see about amping it up to 3 per day, especially to get this story finished on here before the contest submission deadline next Saturday.
"What do you mean, more time?" Ms. O demanded, slamming down her juice box.
Oscar took a deep breath, trying not to get unnerved by her penetrative stare. He had a case to present for himself. "I don't want to switch over to Lab Director just yet, that's all."
Ms. O narrowed her eyes. "Your three years are nearly up. You've been looking forward to the Department of Science, and they need you over there. Why change your mind now?"
"I'm not changing my mind," Oscar quickly said. "I just want to ease into it a little more, that's all. Like, maybe I can work in the lab here and there when I'm not busy solving cases."
She wasn't fooled. "This is all because of Olive, isn't it? Have you even told her what your plans are?"
He pressed his lips together in a flat line. "No, I haven't. She doesn't know yet. I promise I'll tell her, honest, but that's why I want more time. So she can get used to the idea of me not being around until you find her a new partner. Y-y'know?"
"Are you sure that's the only reason?"
"No," he admitted. "The truth is I like being her partner. She always asks me questions and for help with gadgets." Oscar paused and, summoning all his courage, looked Ms. O in the eye. "Olive's going to be your best agent someday. I just know it. And I wanna help her get there."
Ms. O was silent for a few moments. "Alright, you told me about Polly Graph, so do as you like," she said abruptly. "But I want to see you as the Lab Director before ten years are up."
Ten years? That was more time than he could ever have hoped for. "Thank you, Ms. O!" said, grinning from ear to ear. "I-I-I'll get back to work now! I won't let you down!" And before she could tell him so, he dashed out of the office.
"So she can get used to it..." Ms. O repeated to herself. Her gaze fell on the framed Polaroid photo of her and O'Donahue on her desk. It had been taken the night they went to the movie premiere for The Empire Strikes Back, him in Han Solo garb and her dressed like Princess Leia. They'd both signed their names and dated it in the white space below: Oprah and O'Donahue, May 27, 1980. We were so happy, she thought with a sad sigh. Until it all changed so suddenly four years later. If only we'd had ten years to sort things out.
Ms. O glanced back up in the direction where Oscar had gone. He would make a good adviser, she mused, a little jealous of Olive. Eager to please, good at problem-solving, and, thanks to his years of job-hopping, a little skilled at everything. Plus I hear he can sew. She picked up her juice box again. But I'd better wait to offer him the position until he's talked to Olive. Give her time to adjust, or things could get real messy.
* * * * *
Things got real messy.
The next day, Oscar indeed got his haircut as promised—into an afro. Olive didn't see it at first until she wandered into the lab that morning to check in her Toothbrushinator for repair. Then she glanced up and dropped the gadget with a gasp.
Oscar started. "Olive! Um, uh, I was j-just fixing my Shrinkinator, c-cuz there were no other scientists available..." He looked around sheepishly, and it was clear that there were in fact several scientists available that could've helped him.
But though Olive saw through his lie, that of course was not why she had gasped. "No, it's not that! It's your..." she pointed at his face.
"My what? Oh! Yeah, my hair!" Oscar grinned and ran a hand through the curly bush. "I got it cut the other day. Thought it was time for a change, heh."
"No, I meant your braces!" she finally managed. "You got them off!"
"Oh." Oscar touched a finger to his bare teeth, and the barely audible plink of a piano key could be heard. "Right, the orthodontist put me on a retainer now. I almost forgot after my new haircut, heh! Do you like it, by the way?"
Olive wasn't sure she wanted to answer that, although she knew her face probably said it all. "Do you like it?" she asked instead.
Oscar scoffed. "D'oh, of course, yeah, haha!" he said, whipping out a green triangular mirror and gazing at his reflection with the same huge grin. But within five seconds, the grin faltered and his lip curled a little. He set down the mirror on the table beside him. "Okay, maybe it won't be the most permanent haircut," he conceded.
It better not be, Olive thought, but she didn't say that out loud. After all, there was now a more pressing issue to be dealt with. "So you were fixing your Shrinkinator," she prompted, pointing at it. "Just how many gadgets have you had to fix yourself this week?"
"Well..." Oscar cleared his throat and fidgeted a little. "A few...?"
Olive rolled her eyes, but something told her to let it go. "Okay, fine. But next time could you leave the actual science to the scientists? We're partners, I still need your help solving cases."
For a moment Oscar looked like he was going to make a comment, but no words came out of his mouth. It was obvious he had something on his mind. Yet though she wanted to know what he was thinking, and frankly felt more than a little betrayed after he lied to her about where he'd been, Olive merely gave him a nod and headed back to their desks.
It's probably just a hobby for him, she reasoned. Maybe he likes spending a little time in other departments here and there. Besides, if there was really something wrong with that, he'd have told me.
Ah, Olive. If only you could know how your partner was kicking himself for not doing that very thing. How he believed that you were just saying you needed his help in order to make him feel better. For within the year you will come to realize that his spending time in the lab is more than just a hobby.
* * * * *
She first noticed when she started getting assigned more and more cases that turned out to be solo jobs.
When Mrs. Diller's maple syrup turned into mustard and she couldn't eat her pancakes.
Or when Mr. Bleakman could only say the word "CASSEROLE!" over and over again.
Those two sisters with chattering dust bunnies living under their couch.
A group of British kids whose beach ball and dog Gesso had gone missing.
All four were cases that Oscar didn't show up for, or ran off from at the last minute.
Olive did her best to solve them herself, but not everything could be fixed with a gadget. With the dog and the beach ball, it took her the better part of an hour searching before she realized it wasn't even truly an odd case. And with the dust bunnies, she had no idea what to do and ended up calling Todd for help, who smirked and said all she needed was a dust carrot to lure them out.
One day in early 2004, she tried to confront him about it. "Oscar, that's been the fourth case this week you couldn't help me solve," she informed him upon catching him at his desk, inspecting an Unteddybearinator. "What's going on?"
"I know," Oscar sighed, putting the gadget down. "It's just...well...Ms. O wanted me to do some work within headquarters. Y'know, like...inside jobs. Er, cases."
That didn't quite add up. "Then why didn't she let me know?" Olive asked, folding her arms. "Ms. O's never said what you've been doing whenever I've gotten a solo case."
Oscar shrugged and didn't answer. Instead, with some difficulty he met her eyes with his own soft chocolate-brown and blinked. "Y-you're not mad at me, are you?"
"No, no!" Olive quickly said. "I mean, if that's what she wants you doing, then that's fine. I mean...I just wish she would tell me about these things."
Oscar made no reply. Feeling a little awkward, Olive went back to her own desk and started her filing work. Though more confused than before, she didn't bother to bring up the topic again for several months. If Oscar had his reasons, then that was fine with her.
Or at least it should've been. If she didn't still feel a little betrayed by it.
* * * * *
Later that year, after it became clear that this was not just a passing phase, and she still couldn't figure out what was going on, Olive decided to try a different tactic.
"Ms. O?" she called, poking her head in the doorway. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"
The boss glanced up from her Play-Doh creation. She had changed her hairstyle recently, from the short-on-one-side-long-on-the-other to an elegant bun with a braid wrapped around it. "This better be good."
"It is." Mustering up her courage, Olive stepped inside and headed for one of the seats in front. "It's about Oscar, my partner. He's been avoiding cases with me here and there for almost a whole year now, and he insists it's because you've been assigning him difficult jobs that take too much time for him to work with me."
"And...?"
Olive took a deep breath and hoped her partial lie would work. "And I don't think he's telling the truth. I think he's just slacking on his job. He'll make the silliest excuses, and half the time I see him tinkering with gadgets in the lab." She went on and related all the notable times Oscar hadn't been with her on the job, trying not to let her frustration show. "So I think he's trying to avoid solving cases with me. Am I right?"
Ms. O studied her, and for a moment Olive was afraid she wouldn't believe the part about thinking he was a slacker. After all, Olive didn't quite believe that herself, but it was the only plausible story she could think of that might prompt Ms. O to tell her what was really going on.
"I appreciate your concern for him, but no, you're not completely right," Ms. O finally answered, shaking her head. "The fact is, I did assign Oscar some cases that were separate from yours. However, what I didn't do was assign each of your cases at the same time." She stood up. "Where is he now?"
"In the lab," Olive answered with a frown.
"Tell you what, then. You get back to your work, and I'll give him a talking-to and see what's going on. Okay?"
Olive nodded. "Thank you, Ms. O!" So Oscar was right, she thought as she followed her boss out and split off to go back to her desk. But not completely right. He's still hiding something, but now I know it doesn't have to do with Ms. O. Maybe she can figure out what's going on. Good thing she believed my story.
* * * * *
Good thing Agent Olive believed my story, Ms. O thought as she hopped off the stairs and entered the lab. And anyhow, having him train for a job as Lab Director counts as assigning separate cases, right?
Whether it did or not, Ms. O still needed to talk to Oscar if his partner clearly didn't know what he was intending to do. After all, it was kind of his fault she'd had to lie.
"OSCAR!"
Bent over at the lab table, Oscar jumped and dropped the gadget he'd been holding, and a ray shot out of it and hit Ms. O's hair. As he gasped in horror, she gingerly reached up to touch it, an unreadable expression on her face. "Let me guess," she said in resignation. "That was a ray that turns hair gel into cream cheese."
Oscar winced and adjusted his glasses. "Maybe?"
Licking her fingers, Ms. O waved a hand. "Never mind! We'll deal with that in a moment. Right now, I need to know why you haven't told your own partner about your plans yet. She just came up to complain to me that you haven't been around for solving cases."
"Yeah..." He cleared his throat. "I will soon, I-I-I promise! I just...well, I thought I'd get her used to the idea first. Y'know, like, give her some practice solving cases without me, heh."
Ms. O raised an eyebrow. "You realize you put me in an awkward position since you haven't told her yet, even though I instructed you to do so. It's not my place to say that, and I had no choice but to back up the story you told her about me assigning you special cases."
Oscar gulped nervously.
"But," Ms. O continued thoughtfully, pulling her badge phone off to press a button summoning an assistant, "you make a very good point. We don't have any available new recruits coming in yet, so it's not a bad idea to get her used to working alone." She paused as the comb-wielding assistant arrived, handed her a juicebox, and set to work on decheesing her hair. "Still, I need you to tell her soon, got that?"
"Yes, Ms. O!" Oscar said, nodding quickly. "And, um, s-sorry about the hair."
"Eh. You've done worse. Did you build that gadget yourself?" she asked, pointing.
"Oh, this?" He held it up. "Uh-huh! Yeah, I did! Finished it yesterday. The first gadget I've ever actually invented."
"Is it? Wow, you're learning fast."
Oscar blushed with pride. "Oh, well...I try, heh," he stammered. "I'm calling it the Hair-Gel-into-Cream-Cheese-inator."
Ms. O had to smile. His badge would be glowing so much right now, if Odd Squad badges still did that anymore whenever agents are proud of themselves. Shame they took that feature away when the dragons sued us for copyright. Suddenly she remembered something. "Speaking of which, I have an offer to make. I've noticed you're a good problem solver and a good helper. So after you become Lab Director, I want to know if you'd be interested in also being my personal adviser?"
Oscar almost dropped the gadget. "R-really?"
"Yup."
"Wow...what an honor..." he murmured, scratching his head as he tried to take it all in. Then Ms. O noticed him glance nervously in the direction of Olive's desk. "Um, can I think about it?"
For some reason, that little gesture irked her. But she brushed it off. "Oh! Of course, absolutely. You have until you become Lab Director to decide." Ms. O waited a beat until he sighed with relief, then brought out her familiar conversation ender. "Now GET BACK TO WORK!"
Except. "Um, I'm already at work," Oscar pointed out.
Whoops. "Oh. Well, in that case, I'LL GET BACK TO WORK!" And with that, Ms. O marched out and up the stairs, her assistant scrambling to keep up.
So that's done, she thought with satisfaction as she sat back in her chair and let her assistant comb the last of the cream cheese out of her hair. And now that she thought about it, she knew exactly why Oscar's furtive glance had annoyed her. He obviously wanted both jobs as Lab Director and adviser, but not explaining the situation to his partner was holding him back. No matter, she reassured herself. I've talked to Oscar and offered him the job, he'll talk to Olive and straighten things out, Olive will get her questions answered, and I'll gain a new adviser and Lab Director all in one. In short, our chat was very productive.
* * * * *
But that's not at all what Olive, watching from her desk, had seen. In her eyes, all she saw was Ms. O's scolding turn to compliments.
Deep inside her, the first tiny spark of anger flared to life.
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