I reached for the volume button while Mike grabbed his water. “Okay, I’ve taught you offense, defense, and target practice.”
He winced and wiped his face with a towel, “Right,” we were both out of breath, “And I’ve covered computer 101, the history of genocide and a government refresher course.”
The squeaky wheels of the portable punching bag hurt my ears as I pushed it to the corner of my dad’s gym room. Mike and I both removed our gloves, unwrapped our wrists at the trash can and began stretching on the mats.
“I don’t think my body has hurt this bad since I was in Middle School soccer.”
“Nor I since dance.” It had been about a month now since we decided to get dad’s journal back. We had to fill our time with constructive activities or we would have gone crazy. I squirted water in my mouth, “No more attacks on the house since the first one.”
I nodded once, we were both ready for whatever was in my father’s journal. “Let’s go to the bank.”
He got a shower in the gym while I freshened up in my room, we met in dad’s office to go over our plans. His eyebrows raised as I loaded bullets into my gun, “What, I want to be prepared.” I felt my eyes dance and I let a smirk slip across my face, “I have something for you.” The box that had arrived early that morning sat on the desk, “Open it.”
He glanced sideways at me but still went to the box. As he ripped open the package, I felt the giddy excitement I used to feel when I gave mom and dad presents. His eyes sparkled, “No way!”
“We don’t have time to practice with it now, but we can have target practice again when we come back.”
“My very own Glock!”
“It’s my thanks for helping me fix the door. Now, no more whining to use mine, got it?”
“Can I use it today?”
“No.” I snapped in my magazine, hid my gun in my purse and turned to walk out. “You get the revolver.”
It seemed almost too easy that we retrieved the journal and map, and exited the bank without a hitch.
“I can’t tell if I’m more exited to look over the journal or practice with my very own weapon!”
I looked down at the journal and map, if the police wanted these things, Mike would be using his new gun before long. “How about you start target practice while I study dad’s journal.” His wide smile warmed my heart. I watched him go outside the back as I pulled opened the journal. “Alright, dad, what do you have to say, I’m listening this time.”