Since Arena had provisional agent status, she was free to leave the compound as long as she signed out and was wearing her comm watch. And since Lorna had talked Nate and Sterling to go with them, it became a little party. Sterling dressed as he always did, in a dress shirt and dark pants. Nate wore a T-shirt from some obscure band, dark-rimmed glasses, and torn jeans. He could pass for a model for a music magazine. Lorna resembled something akin to a sparkly, lime-green fairy. Arena just wore a dark-green long tee with jeans and boots. There was something about boots that made her feel taller.

  They hadn’t decided what they wanted to do, so they wandered down near Times Square. Sunset was fading over the city, and they strolled up one side of the road and came to a roadblock. Lots of people stood around watching. They pushed in to see what was going on, afraid that something bad was happening.

  It turned out there was a movie being filmed. A spy movie.

  “That’s TOTALLY wrong!” Nate pointed at a fight scene between the main character and a stunt man. “All you’d have to do is sweep him. What does he think he is, a flamingo? You know how many stupid movie fights are all done on one foot?” He started grumbling under his breath when he realized several people near them were overhearing.

  “I guess they don’t have a kung fu master to supervise their action scenes,” Sterling said dryly.

  “Well, I mean, it’s common sense, right?” Nate still looked indignant. He swung back to the scene. “Dude, just HIT him!”

  Arena didn’t notice the errors. Perhaps she should listen to him more during their practice sessions.

  “Ohhhhh! That vendor has baklava! And tacos!” Lorna rushed off. “I’ll be right back!”

  Sterling watched the action intently. “Why is the girl with the case just standing there while the guys fight? She could run away or something. Always protect the intel.”

  The people around them were whispering and moving away slowly, making a ring of space around them.

  “Eh, guys? Perhaps we could discuss their moviemaking techniques elsewhere?” Arena attempted to pull Nate and Sterling away from the roadblock, where they were rooted like trees. Why was she the one with sense all of a sudden. They must not get out much. “Or quieter?”

  She finally managed to pull them away and shrugged at the nearest group. “Theater geeks.” They laughed. Nate grinned his approval.

  Lorna came back with a pile of food, which appeared to be sampled from every continent. “We should all go do karaoke! That would be fun! There’s a Japanese-style hostess karaoke bar near here.”

  Arena was mortified. “A hostess bar?”

  “They’re nice! I’ve been there!”

  “But…” Lorna had already taken off down the street, so they had to follow her.

  “What’s wrong with a hostess bar?” asked Sterling.

  Arena still looked horrified. “They’re for… lonely men!” She had to search for a mild term. “And they’re expensive!”

  Nate was grinning madly. “Well, we’ll have to make sure they’re not lonely anymore. And money’s not a problem. I’ll cover it.”

  “All of it?” Arena asked. “Are you sure?”

  “Sure,” said Nate. “It will be fun. I’ve been to hostess bars in Tokyo. Nice places!”

  Arena rolled her eyes and got dragged along with them to the bar. There were a number of hostess bars in Hawaii, though mostly on the bigger islands, and Arena had never understood the fascination with them.

  The place was very modern. If the hostess was surprised to see them as a group, she didn’t show it, and led them to a private room. Nate ordered drinks for all of them. Arena just drank tea.

  The hostess had smoothly accented English. She asked Arena if she was Japanese, and Arena responded in Japanese that she was half-Japanese and half-Hawaiian. The hostess proceeded to gush on how beautiful Hawaii is and how she wanted to take a trip there. Arena smiled, still feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the whole situation. Nate whispered to her and gave her what must have been a very large tip, because her face brightened and she left the room.

  “I said we just wanted some time together, and to check on us every hour,” Nate poked Arena. “Happy?”

  “I’m not really sure why a regular karaoke bar wouldn’t have been acceptable, but yes, I suppose it will do.” Arena still frowned.

  Unsurprisingly, Lorna got a hold of the microphone first. Sterling looked over the box that ran the karaoke equipment, and proceeded to hack into their system using his handheld. Lorna picked The Spice Girls, and began belting out “Wannabe” very loudly, and very off-key. Sterling started messing with both the pitch and the speed, daring her to keep up. Then he started changing the movies playing on the background screens to weird internet videos, like kittens chasing dogs. Nate was reclining on the sofa, arms behind his head, looking like he was going to fall asleep.

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  When Lorna finished, she shoved the mic at Arena. “Oh, I think I’ll wait.”

  “C’mon Arena! It’s fun!” Lorna pushed the microphone into her nose.

  Nate sat up and took the mic. “I’ll go next. I don’t mind singing.”

  Bon Jovi started blaring. “I couldn’t take any more Spice Girls,” said Sterling.

  Nate grinned and began to sing. He was a talented singer, and played air guitar between verses. It would have been more impressive if unicorns and rainbows hadn’t been decorating the screens behind him, and Sterling wasn’t cackling manically. Lorna began dancing around in her green fairy outfit, and she matched the video on the screens more than Nate did.

  Arena found herself smiling. The tension eased between all of them.

  Sterling sang next. He had a beautiful voice, but it was very low like his speaking voice, and it didn’t really match the Paul Simon song he was singing. He played falling stars in the background, and threw in an applause track at the end, bowing copiously. Lorna tried to hack the videos with her handheld, but it didn’t work. He just smirked at her between verses.

  Eventually, Arena consented to sing. She was probably an average singer. She could hold pitch for the most part, but she didn’t really have much of a voice. The song would have drowned her out if Sterling hadn’t turned it down. They all applauded when she finished and she felt a little silly.

  Sterling commented that the hostess was on the way, and stopped messing with the system as she refreshed their drinks. Nate took the mic again and started flirting with the hostess, winking and smiling. Then he started serenading her, going down on one knee and taking her hand. She was giggling by the time she left the room again.

  “So Johnson, where’d you learn to sing like that?” Sterling taunted.

  “I have some musical background,” Nate responded mysteriously.

  “Like what? Kazoo?” Video of a kazoo concert filled the screen. Arena didn’t even know there was such a thing.

  “Actually, my mom wanted me to be a concert pianist. Took lessons from age four through high school,” he said. “I’m not too bad, either.” He closed his eyes, moving his head in an exaggerated concert pianist imitation, fingers moving across an imaginary keyboard. Then he laughed. “But I got recruited when I went to college at seventeen, and my mother’s dreams were shattered. She still holds a grudge about it. Reminds me every Christmas that I could have been playing at Carnegie Hall. I still took lessons in college, through the music department, and ended up with a minor in music.”

  “Where did you go to college?” asked Arena, realizing she didn’t know that much about the past of any of the Misfits. They probably knew a lot more about her than she knew about anyone else.

  “Georgetown,” he said. “International business. It was ‘encouraged’ as a major. Double minor in music and French.”

  Sterling nodded. “A lot of the early recruits go there. Near enough to Langley to make training easier. And the CIA has a lot of alumni.”

  Nate turned to Sterling, “What about you, Sterling? I’ve never heard where you went to school or how you ended up in the CIA.”

  “MIT. Nuclear Science. I graduated from high school at fifteen. I was recruited in my senior year of college, when I was nineteen.” Nobody looked surprised. “However, it seems I almost wasn’t recruited because I didn’t fit the ‘image’ of the CIA.”

  Despite the frowns of Arena and Nate, Lorna announced that she went to Yale, and dual-majored in Russian and Chinese, and that she applied to the CIA. Everyone looked at Arena.

  “You all already know about me!” she said. “It’s not like it’s been a big secret.”

  “So tell us something else,” said Lorna. “Something we don’t know about you.”

  Arena racked her brain for something interesting. “Well, one time I tried extreme ironing. You take video of yourself ironing while rock climbing or something dangerous and submit it to a website.”

  They all burst out laughing. “Extreme ironing? Is that a real sport?” Sterling typed on his handheld. The screens lit up with a video of Arena on the edge of volcanic lava, wearing a flowered sarong and lei while busy ironing. Arena blushed, but the others were cheering and laughing. The Arena on the video smiled and waved at the camera. Nate was laughing so hard he started coughing.

  “Is that even on?” asked Lorna.

  “No,” she said, “I was just pretending to iron, and most people do. That’s Kilauea. I’m actually on a boat. It looks worse than it actually is. The tour operator was so amused by us that he found a good spot to film.”

  “We are so going to do that sometime!” Lorna exclaimed.

  Sterling snorted. “Speak for yourself. I’d rather stay in my nice warm office, thank you. I can just monitor you.” Lorna rolled her eyes at him.

  “I bet we could come up with a better extreme sport,” said Nate.

  “Isn’t your job enough of an extreme sport?” Sterling asked.

  “Oh no, running for Senate, now there’s an extreme sport. Politicians are much scarier than the people I meet.” Tilting he head, he reconsidered, “Nevermind. Politicians are many of the people I meet.”

  After a while, they all got tired of singing, and true to his word, Nate paid for the evening.

  They were walking back toward the compound, and came across an all-night diner. Sterling said he went there often, so they all went in. Arena suddenly wanted a milkshake. The waitress recognized Sterling and winked at him, and called them all ‘darlin’. Arena was going to just order some pie, but decided she wanted a hamburger, too. The others all ordered large meals as well. Arena couldn’t believe Lorna ate as much as she did, since she had eaten from just about every vendor on the way to and from the hostess bar.

  “We know Arena wanted to be a meteorologist. Watch the tides and all that. Sterling, what did you want to do when you ‘grew up’?” Lorna said between bites of meatloaf special.

  “I wanted to be rich and make lots of money,” he said seriously.

  “Truly?” She emptied the bottle of mustard onto her meatloaf. “I mean, really, what did you want to be?”

  “Truly,” he responded, twiddling his straw wrapper. “I wanted to be rich and well-known. Invent some technology and retire at thirty. The CIA wasn’t quite what I had imagined myself doing. I suppose it’s been alright, especially since the Misfits, but it wasn’t on my radar.”

  Arena suddenly felt wistful for the life she left behind. She loved her major and thought she would have been good at it. She never wanted to be on TV, but the person behind the scenes making the predictions.

  “Oh, Arena, I’m so sorry.” Lorna reached over and patted her arm. “This is all still too new for you. We’ve all been at this awhile, so we forget what it was like when we first joined.”

  They all looked at her silently for a moment.

  “For what it’s worth,” said Nate “I don’t think we could do this without you, and life’s certainly been a lot more fun since you’ve been around.”

  Sterling was silent, just staring at her.

  “Maybe we should go back,” said Arena, feeling like she crashed the evening.

  “I got it this time.” Lorna grabbed the checks before they had a chance to protest.