[MacGirl]

It was a warm spring day in Los Angeles. Stacey MacGyver and her best friend, Erin Cahill, were headed home after a long day at the Phoenix Foundation. They had met nine months earlier, when Erin had come to work in the Hate Groups Intelligence Unit, and had hit it off immediately. They were both adopted, were both extremely bright for their age, and Erin had also graduated from high school young, though she was three years older than Stacey.

“Wow, what a nice day,” said Erin as they waited for the light to change. “It was kind of a nasty winter again this year. I heard the citrus growers had a hard time again.” The wind ruffled her short hair.
“Yeah, it almost reminded me of the winters back home in Minnesota,” agreed Stacey. “Montana, too,” she added as an afterthought.
Something in her tone caught Erin’s attention, and she stopped and turned to face Stacey. “You’re pretty haunted by that, aren’t you?” she asked sympathetically.
Stacey looked into her friend’s eyes for a moment before answering. Erin already knew her better than anyone else at the Foundation, with the exception, of course, of her father and Pete Thornton. “Yeah, I am,” she admitted. “I’d never seen hate like that before, and I hope I never will again. I don’t ever want to go back to Montana, even on vacation. It’s beautiful there, but to me, it’ll always be the ugliest part of the country.”
Erin slipped her arm through Stacey’s. “Totally understandable,” she answered. The two walked along in silence for awhile.
Stacey, of course, was referring to the several years she’d spent being held hostage by a militant hate group. The group, a splinter of the KKK, had murdered her family and then had arranged for her to be “adopted” by a couple in their group. Stacey had suffered considerable abuse at their hands, and last year, had run away and wound up here in California, on the doorstep of a man named MacGyver. He had taken her in, listened to her story, and had helped her get away and defeat the gang’s terrorist plot. To make it even better, he had then adopted her when it became clear she had nowhere else to go. Stacey had landed a job at the Phoenix Foundation with her father’s help, and loved her new job and new life.

Erin was a local girl, but the complete opposite of the stereotypical “California Valley Girl.” She was athletic and powerful, with classically Irish looks—black hair and blue eyes. She stood nearly five foot seven, wore her thick, shiny hair short, and like Stacey, preferred jeans or khakis to dresses and skirts. Three years older than Stacey, she was in her sophomore year at UCLA, working towards a double degree in political science and math, with a concentration in statistics. She was a brilliant mathematician, and the HGIU had hired her to compile and analyze statistics on hate crime. Her intellectual brilliance was balanced by her generous heart and her deep thirst for social justice, and she was seriously considering either law school or journalism. There was no doubt she had a very bright future, no matter where she eventually landed.
The two had a similar sense of humor, and were often trading jokes and one-liners. Today was no exception, and they were both laughing by the time they reached the bus stop.
“Hey,” said Erin, “can we get together tonight? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Yeah, sure,” answered Stacey, and was suddenly stopped by the serious look on her friend’s face. It struck her that Erin had been acting a little out of sorts recently. “Is everything OK, Erin? You know you can tell me.”
“Well, yes and no. It’s complicated.”
Stacey was concerned by her friend’s sudden evasiveness. “Why don’t you come home with me? I can call Dad and let him know. He won’t mind.”
“OK, as long as we can talk alone at some point.”
“No problem, Erin. Dad’s respectful of my need for space.” Erin nodded. “What about your folks? Shouldn’t you let them know?”
“Uh, no. Mom and Dad don’t care where I go, as long as… um, I’m home by eleven.”
Something about that sounded fishy to Stacey, as she knew Erin’s parents were stricter than Mac. But she decided to let it go until they were at the houseboat and could talk privately. She took out her cell phone, and called home.


MacGyver picked up the phone on the second ring. “Hey, honey, are you on your way home?”
“Yeah, I am, Dad,” she answered. “Is it OK if my friend Erin joins us for dinner tonight?”
“Sure. I’ll just cook up some extra spaghetti.”
“Oh, yum! One of my faves.” Stacey knew her father made outrageously good spaghetti. “Thanks, Dad. We’re about to get on the bus, so we’ll see you soon.”


At the houseboat, Mac was getting dinner ready. He had had a long day at work, but knew Stacey’s day had been even longer. She works harder than practically anyone I know, even me, he thought. There were changes happening at the Foundation, chief among them the fact that Pete Thornton was now mostly retired, and only working about ten or fifteen hours a week. He couldn’t quite seem to let his job go completely, but his health was deteriorating. Pete was nearly seventy, and when Mac allowed himself to be honest, he didn’t know how much longer his friend would be around. He was also beginning to seriously consider retirement for himself, now that both Stacey and Sam were doing well for themselves financially.
The sound of a key in the lock pulled Mac out of his musings, and he looked up to see his daughter and her best friend walk in. “Hey, sweetie,” he greeted Stacey, going over to hug and kiss her. “How was your day?”
“Uggh, long. We’re still working on the Gonzales case.”
“Still? Hasn’t that one been going on for almost nine months?”
“Yeah, it’s a rough one.” They referred to a murder case that had come to the HGIU’s attention almost a year ago. A Hispanic man had been beaten and left to die by a group of unknown assailants. There had been very little evidence to go on, until the man’s family had begun receiving anonymous notes referring to the murder, and making it clear that the author thought the victim was gay. That hadn’t been confirmed. The police were either stumped or overwhelmed, and the family had turned to the Foundation for help.
Mac turned to his daughter’s friend. “Hey, Erin, it’s been awhile. How are ya?”
“Fine, Mac.”
Mac looked at her quizzically. Erin was usually a lot more talkative. He chalked it up to the fact that both girls had been putting in long hours. “Well, dinner’s ready. You two hungry?”

[ghostdoll]

Like the beginning so far

Sorry it took me so long to read and comment. Was on grandma's house and she doesn't have internet

A suggestion, though. I think it would be a bit easier to read if you separate each new paragraph with an empty line. It was sometimes hard to read when the speeches began Thanks for sharing your story.