Dedicated to: DevS98
Well, lookie here. We done found ourselves a reader of the previous MID. Am I right? No, really. Dude, if you've stuck with this story this far . . . I LOVE YOU. Seriously. I'm glad you like this new version. The old one was interesting, but this one is planned out to be even better. And I'm glad you kept up with the book after everything. Thanks for reading! :3

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       September 4th

       Maria Sanchez is introduced.

       Ch. 11: Lose One Friend, Gain Another

       Date: September 4th

It doesn’t take long for me to unpack my things. In fact, I’m already finished by the time I receive my new textbooks, which is sometime the next day. A day after that I’ve already established my very own untraceable connection link with Special Operations. But still, even so, Kyle hasn’t contacted any of us yet.

       Or at least I don’t think he has.

       Alex and Adrian have been MIA for two days now, but I think that’s for the best. I don't look too much into it. I need to focus on the mission. I haven’t come anywhere near the mention of the target, Maxwell Thomas, since I've been here.

       Surely a school would have a picture of their principal somewhere inside the building. Any normal school would. It's clear to me that there are secrets inside this school that have been well hidden from the students and maybe even faculty members. It's a good thing I've never been fond of secrets.

       The day before classes begin, I find myself standing in the middle of a hallway with the one girl that I need as my ally. I am trying to explain to a hard-headed Susan that I already have a boyfriend, but the both of us stand our ground, too stubborn to even break eye contact.

       One thing I admire about Mom when she chooses my identities is that she knows which personalities I can display the best. Naturally, those would be the ones that resemble my own.

       “I hope you know I’m not intimidated by you,” I say, raising an eyebrow at Susan. The girl continues glaring my way. Her thick, dark wavy hair falls into her eyes as she tilts her head to the side. When her eyes narrow, I can tell she’s examining my whole figure from head to toe.

       Instantly she gains some points in my book. This is something I would do.

       “I know,” she replies, pursing her lips. “I’m just trying to figure out why.”

       We stand in front of a lounge room on the third floor of the east wing. The large, towering door frame is behind Susan, and occasionally I find myself looking over her shoulder to peer into it, trying to observe the mass of students inside. Neither of us go in. We are too busy calculating each other’s movements and sizing each other up.

       “It’s nothing personal,” I inform nonchalantly. “I just don’t see the point in putting myself beneath someone who could have an even more judgmental personality than I do.”

       Suddenly a smile breaks across her face, and I have to stare hard at her to figure out if it’s genuine. The fact that I even have to think twice about it tells me that I like this girl already; she’s hard to read. Although I'm not sure if this is a good thing.

       The smile, I conclude is real. She has just warmed up to me. “You have a boyfriend,” she repeats my words from earlier. From her it’s supposed to be a question, but she says it as a statement.

       I nod.

       “Of course. A girl like you would have one,” she continues. One corner of my mouth lifts up. Then Susan steps aside and turns her body towards the room, her back facing me.

       Her eyes scour the room, gliding over the heads inside back and forth as she tries to pinpoint my boyfriend. Everywhere students are laughing, eating, drinking, watching TV; everything a teenager can possibly do inside a lounge.

       While Susan searches for Adrian, I decide to do the same. I see a few brunette heads and a couple red ones, but I don’t find Adrian at first.

       But that’s only at first.

       And if I wasn’t trained, I wouldn’t have noticed him at all. He blends in very well with the group of girls that surround him.

       I almost don’t see him among the four pretty females that lightly tap his arm, slowly breathe in his every detail, and nestle their heads on his shoulders. I almost don’t realize how close each girl is to him. And I almost don’t acknowledge how much he’s enjoying himself.

       But although I almost don’t, I still do.

       Suddenly everything freezes. My breath catches in my throat and I feel my heart drop into my stomach. Completely frozen, I’m stuck staring at the boy flirting with these girls, who is completely oblivious to his girlfriend watching him across the room. I feel my hands start to tremble.

       I know that the relationship I have with Adrian is a complicated one. We don't work well together. We are superior agents; we get the job done in every field possible except for our personal lives. And it took a while, but eventually we both silently came to the realization that we didn't have personal lives, and that we weren't even really together.

       And then mistakes were made, and one of us caught the other in the act. And soon our relationship became a business arrangmenent. A cover-story. Something that never went deeper than the surface.

       So no, my heart does not shatter into little pieces, and I don't feel the need to cry. Instead I feel a sense of obligation. Because there’s something that I have to do now – something that I know I should’ve done a long, long time ago.

       My face is blank when I walk inside, past Susan, and step over the spilled chips on the floor. I slink past a group of guys and land hard on my heels. The high-waist skirt that I’m wearing rides up a little but still I continue on, forming thoughts in my mind about what I am about to do.

       Everything inside this lounge room is white, black, or orange – including all the couches. Xbox controllers rest on the glass table in front of the TV, and the one thing that comes to mind upon seeing that is: Is it really safe to put any glass object in a place where everyone is partying all the time?

       Obviously not, I think, as a petite blonde stumbles by me and smacks into the table.

       Ignoring her, I make my way towards the back of the room where scattered arrangements of orange seats have been mixed with white ones. The couches are backless and have no separation; just a compilation of little orange squares pushed together.

       When I get past the mini-bar, I’m staring down at five students of Smile Academy that seem to be enjoying each other’s company, and my heart starts beating loudly in my chest. All of a sudden I feel regret as I look into the slightly startled eyes of Adrian.

       Again, I start to feel myself trembling.

       I wish our relationship went better than it did. I wish we could’ve tried to fix whatever was broken over this last year. I regret not trying harder to make us work.

       But I don’t regret what I’m about to do.

       “Adrian,” I say over the chattering of the room, and there's something about the way I say it that causes a chill to settle inside the room.

       I have captured the attention of the other people in the room, and the voices inside simmer down a little so that the students can listen to what I’m going to say. I am new to the school, but I look like another Susan. And that's enough to cause a scene.

       Now that I have an audience, I decide to make this into a bigger deal than it should be. 

       Before the boy even opens his mouth I know that he's going to try and defend himself. But there's no need at this point; not when I've already forgotten what he used to mean to me.

       “Rachel,” he starts, sitting forward and letting the girls’ arms fall to their sides, “I know you might think—”

       “Adrian, there’s really no need to explain anything.” My voice comes out cool and icy, the voice of a girl who knows she can replace anyone with the snap of a finger. “I was just about to inform Susan that I’m not off the market after all. At first I insisted that I was, but now I realize I was wrong.”

       I push my hair over my shoulder softly, so that it doesn’t seem like I’m flipping it over but still carries the same effect. “You see, I’m actually not your girlfriend anymore. I realized it when I was across the room, staring at you with your friends, and I thought to myself, you can't be dating him.”

       I turn back to Susan, who remains standing at the entrance, watching our exchange with interest, and send an apologetic look her way.

       “False alarm, Susan. It seems I was the only one still in our relationship. You were right, then, because I guess that means I was already single.” I begin walking back to the doorway where she is, but I stop to glance back at Adrian. His face is empty. “Enjoy your day, Adrian,” I say, nodding at him, and then I continue walking as the noise level in the room increases again.

       A gust of air escapes my lips when I pass the bar. I wonder if I should feel relieved after getting rid of a relationship of two years. But I already know what the answer is, and it doesn't change how I feel.

       As I make my way back to the door I don’t acknowledge the whispers that follow me, but I hear every one.

       “Who is that?”

       “She’s single?”

       “I hate her.”

       “. . . Yeah, me too. But I love her shoes.”

       I grin a little. Okay, that last one I’ll acknowledge.

       When I get halfway across the room, the same blonde that smacked into the glass table earlier smacks into me. I almost forget to stagger backwards but I quickly force myself to look off balance as the girl stumbles on her feet again. We both straighten up and I finally take a look at the girl.

       Blonde, brown-eyed, clumsy. Her face is beautiful, but you can tell at first glance that there’s something off about her. “I’m so sorry,” she says, taking a step back. “I so didn’t see you there. It’s these heels that I’m wearing. They’re, like, totally not my style. I love your dress, though. And I’m sorry about your boyfriend. He was totally hot but like totally not, you know?”

       I blink at the girl.

       Pressing my lips together for a second, I then say, “Yeah, um . . .” I glance back at Susan and wonder what she and Rachel Williams would say to a girl like this. When I turn back, I continue. “How about this? I'm Rachel Williams. Who are you?”

       The last part comes out rudely, but at the moment I don’t have control over my emotions. At this point I feel like I really am Rachel Williams; my words are cold and smooth like a hard surface. But the blonde doesn’t seem to mind.

       The girl places a hand on her left hip, her fingers slightly wrinkling the smooth fabric of her John Richmond halter dress. The smile that lights up her face is a bright one that makes you wonder if she’s ever considered using her teeth as a flashlight in the dark.

       “My name is Maria,” the girl enlightens, toying with a strand of her hair. “Maria Sanchez.”

       The girl named Maria looks ditzy and perky and anything else that contrasts with my personality. You can tell she’s got the beauty but she needs to work on the brains. After one look at her I know that she and Rachel Harris wouldn’t be that close.

       But at the moment Maria is speaking to Rachel Williams. And to Rachel Williams, Maria is the second friend she’s made so far.

       So instead of walking away, I grin at her and give her a small nod of approval. “Nice to meet you.”

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       Adrian is no longer Rachel's boyfriend. Relieved or bummed?

       I know you guys didn't really get to know Adrian's character . . . Sorry about that. Ya gotta understand that this story is being told through mission reports, so Rachel may or may not choose to include her emotions or previous encounters. Her relationship with Adrian will be explained further eventually, though.

       Best commenter gets a dedication! Catch my attention and I'll be sure to mention you. Especially if you came from my other book, 36 Students in a Classroom. If that's the case, you'll get a dedication on there. So comment!

       . . . And vote.

       Lounge room on the side!

       QUESTION: What are some spy-story clichés? I wanna know what to look out for.

       'AwesomelyBlaze