Cafeteria
CIA Academy of Espionage
Washington, DC
February 26th
1330 hours

I pretended to ignore the note and threw out my trash as though everything was normal, although, nothing was normal today. Every day, we had an hour to finish breakfast and lunch, with a bell signaling that 30 minutes have passed. You weren't allowed to leave the lunchroom until those 30 minutes were up. After that, we had something along the lines of a recess, but it was more like sit in the gym until it's time for your next class. Instead, I ran to the bathrooms. I went in and locked myself in a stall (just in case) and unfurled the note.

Ben, meet me outside the building at 0100 hours tonight don't be late.

I read the note over again twice more (and twice more after that), just to make sure I saw everything correctly. I picked up one thing right away: I did not recognize this persons handwriting. I had assumed it was written by Erica, as it seemed like the kind of thing she would do, and she had slipped me notes before without me noticing, and I suppose it still could have been, but it seemed extremely unlikely now, as I knew what Erica's handwriting looked like. I left the stall and threw the note in the trash, piling paper towel on top so no one could see it. I was about to turn around so I could walk out the door when I heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. I looked. It was a girl. I realized in my haste, I hadn't been paying attention to what bathroom I walked into, and had evidently walked into the wrong one. They really shouldn't put the bathrooms right next to each other.

"Oh! Umm... Sorry," I said awkwardly, "I was just in a hurry and didn't see which bathroom I was walking into. Sorry. I'll just leave now." I backed out of the door, embarrassed. The girl just stared at me, angrily. Luckily, she wasn't in my grade, so I hadn't seen her before. However, she would probably go tell all her first-year friends (she looked like she was a first-year) that there was some creepy boy in the girls' bathroom. I already had bad luck with being known as a bathroom creeper (long story short, I accidentally walked in on Jemma Stern using the bathroom on my last mission) and did not need that again.

I had spent a long time in the bathroom rereading the note, that I only had around 10 minutes left until my next class. I walked into the gym, where at least half of the school was.

I glanced around until I finally spotted Zoe waving me over.

"We have some party planning to do," she declared as I got to their spot in the gym. "I think-"

"I think you're being dramatic," sighed Chip, interrupting her. "She already said she didn't want to make a big deal out of things."

"Still," Zoe explained, "this could be the first party she ever had! And she didn't have to invite us. We should at least get her a present." The was a silence as everyone thought this over. Mike nodded, confirming that he thought it was a good idea.

"Fine," Chip said, "but I'm not getting her an individual gift, it has to be from all of us."

Zoe clapped her hands once, "perfect! I'll pick it out myself."

"Wait," I said, "why are you picking the gift out? If it's from all of us, shouldn't we get it together?"

Zoe shook her head, "no, in case you haven't noticed, I'm the only other girl here."

"But-"

"No buts! Trust me, she'll like it."

I muttered a quick "Fine" just in time for the bell the ring.

"See you guys on Saturday!" Zoe exclaimed as she walked/skipped to her class, the rest of us following in suit (minus the skipping.) Zoe's excitement was spreading to me, and it seemed like the party was actually going to be fun.

My next class, however, was not fun.

"Turn to page 437 and read it to yourselves," my teacher, Professor Haber ordered. "We will discuss it after."

I was stuck in Aiming Weapons 101 because even I couldn't argue that I needed this class. None of my friends were in this class, and I was stuck with only first-years. I don't remember having this class as a first-year, and I'm pretty sure they added this class in just for me. So far, we hadn't even practiced aiming. All we'd done was read and take notes and read and take tests. It was so boring. But I knew I needed this class, so I did what I was told and got out my textbook. I could barely hold in my groan. It was just reviewing what we had been learning for the last two weeks. I got about halfway through the page before Professor Haber called out, "is everyone finished reading?"

I wasn't, but I didn't want to read anymore, so I joined the chorus of "yeses."

"Good," Professor Haber said, "now first we have, 'When aiming a weapon, you should always aim with your dominant eye.' Write that down! It's important."

Already done. We wrote that note down yesterday.

"Second! 'When aiming weapons, always concentrate.'" Also already written from yesterday.

The entire class continued like that. Professor Haber would say something, tell us to write it down, and it would already be written down. I scanned the classroom of first-years, who were all scrambling to take notes, and noticed her. The girl from the bathroom. Of course she was in this class, the only class I have with any first-years (excluding PE.) I ducked down a little in my seat to avoid being spotted and hoped that I could get through these last 5 minutes of class.

Apparently, I couldn't. At that moment the fire alarm sounded through the classroom. Ignoring Professor Haber's callings to wait and slow down, everyone hurried out of the classrooms and onto the grounds. We stood there and waited. Students and teachers started mumbling about how there was no scheduled fire drill today. It was freezing outside and nobody had a jacket. I waited to see any signs of smoke. I waited and waited. None came. The principal's voice finally (although I think this may be the first time I've ever been relieved to hear the principal's voice) sounded over the PA.

"Everything is fine, someone must have pulled the alarm by accident," Principal Sidebottom said. "Please return to your regular classes."

Everyone started muttering about how it certainly wasn't an "accident" as they hustled to their next class. I, however, again heard the familiar crinkle of paper from my pocket. It better not be another note, I thought.

It was.

I had picked up my supplies from AW 101 and gotten to my seat in my next class when I finally had time to read the note.

Ben, don't think I didn't see you throw the note out. 0100 hours. Don't be late

Same handwriting. I tried to think of everyone who stood by me during the fire drill. Just the first-years from my class, and it seemed unlikely for it to be them. Then again, this was a school of spies. Anything was possible. I was so fixed on figuring out who wrote the note, I didn't pay attention in any of my other classes, or at dinner when Zoe told us what her present was. I blocked everything out until I made it to my room. Rather than throw the note away again, I just fell asleep, thinking ignoring the note would be best.

I definitely could have made a better decision.