"Geneviève, sweetie. Wake up, your father's home." My mother said, shaking me awake. I groaned and rolled over, blinking the sleep out of my eyes.

"I thought he wasn't coming back for another two weeks." I mumbled, forgetting to sign.

"Well, things apparently changed. Put something on and come meet us in the kitchen. I'll make you something to eat." My mom left and I turned to look at the clock. It read 02:03.

I threw on a pair of grey sweatpants and a sweatshirt over my pajamas. I slipped on a pair of thick fuzzy socks with the rubber dots on the bottom that prevented you from sliding on hardwood floors. I gathered up my semi-frizzy semi-curls into a messy bun and padded downstairs into the kitchen.

My dad was still dressed in his tactical gear and uniform. All black with a utility belt I knew kept a gun and a taser secured. Everyone said I looked like him. Same curly hair, eyes, and the tell-tale pigment of a southern Frenchman. When he saw me, a grin split his face and made his green eyes sparkle with delight.

"Ma fille!" He said swinging me up in a spinning hug. I hugged him back just as tightly as he held me, inhaling the familiar scent of him. I looked at my mother over his shoulder and saw her smiling with a sad joy.

'Mama, can I get some eggs please?' I asked after my dad put me down.

"Of course. Marcelle, Would you like some?"

"Oui, that would be lovely Cherie." He replied.

'So Papa, what brings you home early?' My dad looked at me, his expression going from elated to melancholy.

"You, and I wish it was just because I miss you so dearly. The people who I work for, and with, want to offer you a job." I furrowed my eyebrows.

'A job? Do they know that I'm only 16?' My dad nodded.

"They want you to come back with me and hear their offer. You don't have to take it if you don't want to."

Mom turned around to give us our eggs and leaned against the counter. I looked at her as if to say 'well?' She sighed and sat down with us.

"I think you should just hear them out. Your father gets paid very nicely from these people and maybe it could help you decide what you want to do when high school ends." I shoveled my eggs into my mouth to stall my response.

'Fine. When are we going?'

"Just after you get dressed in something more, presentable." My mom said eyeing my lounge clothes. I rolled my eyes but ran upstairs to change.

What would be presentable for the people my dad works for? I pulled on my nicest pair of jeans. They were light wash and the only pair I owned that didn't have rips or some kind of stain on them. I threw on three different shirts before settling on a red t shirt. I hoped this was as presentable as my parents wanted.