Room Number 213
CIA Academy of Espionage
Washington, DC
February 27th
0130 hours

It was late when I first heard the sound. I didn't know how late. I did what every smart person should do when they hear a strange sound at night and blocked it out with my blanket. But after I heard the faint *tap* *tap* about ten times too many, I threw off my covers to see what was going on. The sound was coming from my window, and I slowly turned my head and had to stifle a scream. There was a figure, not out but inside my room, who was drumming their fingers on the window, lightly. When they saw that I was looking their way, they jumped on top of me a slapped a hand over my mouth.

"Don't scream," their voice threatened me. I was about to scream--about to lose my mind really--when I noticed a familiar smell. Lilacs and gunpowder. I relaxed and nodded, hoping she got my signal that I was going to keep my cool. She did, and removed her hand from my mouth.

"Erica," I breathed, hoping I was right.

"Yeah, that's me," she said, just above a whisper, back to me.

"What are you doing here?!" I yelled/whispered back to her. "And how did you get here?" I was very confused about the latter of my questions, as my room was on the third floor.

"Keep your voice down," she hissed, even though my voice wasn't much louder than hers. "As for the how, I scaled the building and opened your window yesterday. I had placed a stick in it earlier to make sure it didn't lock."

I should have been paying more attention before I went to bed, I would have noticed a twig in my window otherwise. "And why?" I asked impatiently.

"I'm getting there! Why is because I wanted to talk to you."

"Couldn't that have waited until morning?! Some people have things to do at night!"

"Like what?" she asked. She actually sounded confused, like there weren't important things that happened at night.

"Oh, I don't know... Sleeping."

She shrugged her shoulders, "You're training to be a spy," she reminded me, "you should always be ready for anything, even if it's in the middle of the night."

I rolled my eyes, "just tell me." I reached to turn on a lamp when Erica smacked my hand away.

"You want everyone to know you're awake? Keep the lights off."

The turned off lights made me even more tired, but I shook it away and tried to listen to what Erica had to say.

"I just wanted to tell you...." She seemed like she was fumbling for the right words (nervous, maybe.) "I just wanted to tell you that I have some things planned for the party, so, like, if things start to get a little weird and crazy, everything's fine. Okay?"

I was confused. Had she really scaled a building, broke into my room, and nearly given me a heart attack just so she could tell me to be on my A game? I was always on my A game! Okay, no I'm not, and Erica wouldn't do something for no reason. It must be important.

"Can you tell me what it is?" I asked her. "You know, so I can be prepared at the party."

She shook her head, "No. Just don't get too shocked." She turned to leave back out the window.

"Wait," I called, "it was you, wasn't it, the person who gave me the notes?" I looked at the clock, and it read 1:30. I figured she must have given me the notes, and then got impatient when I didn't follow the directions.

Erica looked confused. "I never gave you any notes." And with that, she disappeared out my window. If it wasn't Erica, then who was it?

I spent the rest of the night (or morning, depending on how you look at it) obsessing over that one question. Who could it be? I tried to think of everyone who passed my lunch table and everyone by me during the fire drill. But I was at a school full of spies, it could literally be anyone. Well maybe not everyone, there were quite a few incompetent people at my school. I couldn't take thinking about this anymore. I was tired and hungry (I hadn't eaten much at dinner last night) and ready to start my day. Even if it was only 4:37 in the morning. I crept out into the hallway and went to the bathrooms to take a shower (I went in the right bathroom this time.) I washed up, got dressed, and brushed my hair and my teeth. By that time it was 5 am. I didn't have anything better to do, so I decided to walk around the grounds for an hour until breakfast. I never had time to look at the school's grounds at night (usually I saved night for sleeping), but let me tell you: it was just as ugly as it was in the daytime. I could see all the dead grass, and hear it crunch under my boots--but not the satisfying crunch that leaves make when you step on them--and the beaten down buildings stood out like sore thumbs. I ended up at the shooting range, where I saw a figure of someone. They looked to be holding something, probably a weapon of some kind.

"Hey!" I called.

I watch as the person jumped. "Jesus Christ!" It was a girls voice. "What are you doing out here?!"

"I could ask you the same question," I replied.

"Yeah, but I asked you first." She was stubborn.

"Well your not wrong there. I couldn't sleep and decided to go on a walk." Suddenly, a bright light shined in my face.

"No way," the girl whispered as she flipped off her phone light, "you're the guy who was in the girls' bathroom."

I moved closer so I could see her as my eyes readjusted to the dark. Of course it was her. "Yeah," I said, embarrassed, "that's me. I keep running into you."

"Like when?" the girl asked.

"The bathroom, you're in my Aiming Weapons 101 class, and now here," I listed.

She seemed to be thinking these over. "Yeah, I guess that is a lot of times. What's your name by the way?"

"Ben," I said, "and I asked you-"

"Ben?" the girl interrupted me, "I think I like bathroom creeper better. I'm Emily." She held out her hand.

I shook it. "Don't call me Bathroom Creeper, and you never told me what you were doing out here."

"Oh!" Emily exclaimed, "I came out here to practice my shooting. I know we have a class for that, but we never do anything there." I snorted. She wasn't wrong there either.

"Yeah Spy School gets pretty boring, believe it or not." It was her turn to laugh at that. "So how old are you?"

"I'm 13," Emily replied, "But I just got here, so I had to start as a first-year. How old are you?"

"I'm 13 too. And you sound like my friend Mike. He's also 13 but a first-year. The administration is talking about moving him up though. Maybe that'll happen to you."

"I didn't know you were friends with Mike! He's in my classes!" Leave it to Mike to know every girl on campus. "I don't think they'll move me up though, this is my first time doing anything like this. If what I've heard about Mike is true, he's been on a mission before."

"How do you know that?" I asked. "That' s supposed to be confidential."

Emily shrugged. "We're at a school of spies," she told me, "Not even confidential things can stay a secret for long."

She then turned and went to fire her gun. I braced myself and plugged my ears for the loud bang. It never came. I removed my fingers from my ears and looked. Emily had obviously fired a bullet, there was a fresh hole in the dummy, right in its heart, but I hadn't heard any sound.

"Wow," I said, impressed, "are you sure you've never done this before? You must be a natural! And how did you manage for it not to make a sound?"

Emily smiled and replied, "as for your first question, yes this is my first time at a spy school, but I've been coming out here to practice, like, every day. And for the second question-" she spun her gun around in her fingers and brought it in front of my eyes, "-this is called a suppressor," Emily replied as she pointed to a part in her gun, "it muffles the sound."

"Impressive," I fumbled for my next words, "But, um, I'm, like, not so impressive at shooting a gun. In fact, I'm pretty sure the whole reason we have a class for aiming weapons is because of me. So do you think you could help me?"

Emily took a deep breath, "hang on," she said, rather dramatically, "I want to savor this moment, when the great Ben Ripley, the defeater of SPYDER, has come to ask for my help." She paused for a moment. "But yes, I will help you."

"Thank you." I ignored the fact that she wasn't supposed to know about SPYDER either. "And between you and me, I'm not really that good of a spy."

Emily let out a somewhat fake gasp, "Really? I'd never know." We both smiled as she began to teach me how to shoot.

We practiced for-like-ever. Well more like 30 minutes, but you get the idea. Emily wasn't lying when she said she practiced a lot, she must have taken really good notes too, because, and I hate to say it, she was a better teacher than Erica. Or maybe, when Erica was teaching me, I was too fixated on her to focus on my shooting, but with Emily, I was able to hit my target 3 times. I even got a headshot! (Okay, so I wasn't aiming for the head, but it still counts!)

"That's it Ben!" Emily called out when I hit the target a fourth time, "you're getting better by the second!"

Turns out, everything that Professor Haber says in class is actually really important. Emily said she writes his notes down every day, so that she doesn't forget (regardless of how many times she already has it written down.) We were so busy that I didn't notice the sun until it was bright enough to see everything clearly. When everything clicked into place, I realized it was 5:52. That meant we only had 8 minutes until breakfast. I looked and finally got to see Emily clearly. She was pretty. She had strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes and a small nose. She was a couple inches shorter than me too. She was wearing a heavy coat, which was better than my jacket. I should have worn something heavier, I was freezing at this point. Emily looked cold too. The tip of her nose was red, and she kept sniffling.

Emily suddenly gasped, "oh I, um, I have to go! I don't want to be late for breakfast!" And with that, she took off running.

Since I also didn't want to be late for breakfast, I made my way back to my room, cleaning myself up once again so I didn't look like I was just out shooting things.

My friends started interrogating me as soon as I sat down.

"Where were you!" they asked, "why were you late!"

I raised my hand for silence, "I just overslept, it's not that big of a deal." They all seemed satisfied with that answer. I looked around the cafeteria, trying to spot Erica. I couldn't help hoping that she would sit by us again. But, alas, she was sitting by herself again, studying a textbook. I finished my "food" and listened in to the conversations.

Chip and Jawa were arguing about whether or not a hot dog should be considered a sandwich.

"It is a sandwich!" exclaimed Chip. "A sandwich is two or more things stacked up on top of each other!"

"Exactly why it's not a sandwich!" Jawa replied. "The hot dog is just one item."

"No! There's a hot dog, bread, and you can add ketchup or mustard or anything else."

"None of those things count!"

The argument lasted the entire time we were eating breakfast (and, most likely, traveled into their next class.) My next class was Self-Preservation. Another one of the things I'm bad at. I usually tried my best to dodge the questions and shrink away whenever my teacher called for volunteers. I barely stayed awake for that class, and I had to force my eyes open during my other two morning classes as well. I should have gone back to sleep this morning. Lunch was a blur. Chip and Jawa were still on the hot dog thing (yes, still), with Zoe and Mike now joining in (Zoe saying that it isn't a sandwich, and Mike saying that it is).

Then came my Aiming Weapons class. I was surprised when I walked in to find a note on the whiteboard reading, Meet me on the shooting range. I set my supplies down on my desk and made my way outside. While I was walking, Emily met up with me.

"Do you think Professor Haber's gonna let us shoot something today?" she whispered to me as we walked through the hallways.

"I don't know," I replied, "I hope so."

She bumped her shoulder into mine, "good thing you're a pro at shooting stuff now."

"All thanks to you," I said, bumping my shoulder back.

When we got to the shooting range, I noticed that, along with Professor Haber, there was also another class there. I deduced that it was Advanced Weaponry, because of the teacher, Professor Spearing. Erica was in that class.

"All right everyone," Professor Haber called out, silencing everyone, "in case you haven't noticed, we are going to be using a gun to shoot things today. So, if you've used a gun before, please step forward, if not, please step back."

"I mean I've shot a gun before," I whispered to Emily, stepping forward, "but whether or not I'm good at it is a different story." She laughed.

Up front, we had everyone from Advanced Weaponry, about 15 people, me, Emily, and two other first years, whose names I did not know.

Professor Spearing began to hand out guns to all of us, "Okay," she said, "you are all going to aim at the target in front of you and hit it as best you can. If you haven't handled a weapon before, stay quiet and pay attention to how they do it."

Everyone shot their guns. Every bullet found a target. Erica's shot was the best, striking the target directly in the middle. Emily's was a close second, she was only a few centimeters off. I took a bit longer, running through my head everything Emily taught me. Concentrate, steady yourself, close your bad eye, picture yourself hitting the target. I took a deep breath a shot. I closed my eyes. Nobody said anything. I looked. I actually hit the target! The bullet hit in the left outer ring, not as good as Erica's, or even Emily's, shot, but still better than I normally would do. Erica looked shocked (or at least as shocked as Erica would allow herself to look), as did Professor Haber, because I'm sure he's been made aware of how awful a shot I am.

"Alright," Professor Spearing said, clapping her hands, "to the ones in the front, take a step back. As for everyone else, come forward so we can teach you."

Erica stood next to me, "when did you become so good at shooting?" she asked, sounding confused.

I shrugged, "I don't know," I replied as I made eye contact with Emily, "practice makes perfect I guess."

The rest of class continued like that, with people alternating between groups and practicing shooting. I didn't do so well with the rest of my shots, but I was so proud of myself, that my accomplishment stuck with me the rest of my day. I didn't even let failing my "Hiding in Plain Sight" quiz get me down. I finished my classes, ate dinner happily (and quietly now that the whole hot dog fight had finished with Jawa and Zoe letting Chip and Mike be right.)

I went to bed happy.