Spy School: Try Hard, Die Hard

Partial intros Part 2 Chapter 4

Isn't it weird that shouting isn't just for one emotion but many? Confusion, sadness, anger, happiness, fear, surprise, awe, amusement, and much more?

Well, today, I yelled in confusion. As classes were about to begin an I stepped out the door, brown hair whipped my face along them coming full force unto me. Landing on my shoulder jarringly I heard someone suppress a laugh. 

"I'm so sorry!" A female said. I looked up, and I swear, she almost beat Erica looks-wise. She was showing a toothy grin, along with embarrassed eyes that showed sincerity in her apology.

She had straight brown hair that cascaded all the way to her hips, along with gray eyes that looked almost black accompanied by an athletic build and sharp angles.  She had on jeans that ripped at the knee along with a U.S. woman's jersey with the number "13." Alex Morgans' number.

I stared.

"Hello?" She waved a hand in front of my face.  I blushed. Dang it.

"Oh, hi."

She smiled with full lips. She stuck out her hand. "Kristen Cienfuegos, though people call me Kris." She introduced.

Ah, so this was the first year, 12, pretty, seemingly clumsy, and innocent, well, fighting-wise.

"Benjamin Ripley, 2nd year. So what was you running down and ramming into me about?"

She seemed to quickly take on a bit of a bashful attitude with her playing with her necklace, rubbing the beads nervously.

"R...in ...  Co....t..o. Did....  W... Th......

I stared in confusion. What the heck did she say? She got flustered an repeated her sentence. "Running Competition. They didn't run all the way though," she mumbled louder.

I looked down the hallway that lead to the mess. "You going to Introduction to Self-preservation? With Mr. Tornado eyebrows?"

"Mr. Crandall?"

"Yeah. Tornado eyebrows. How do eyebrows get so swirly like that?" I playfully asked.

She snickered. "He kicked you butt with the ninjas, though. You're not one to talk," she retorted playfully.

"I was a first year! I didn't know, but," I stared at her with mock horror," how do you know about that? I'm pretty sure that died down."

"Let's just say that sometimes I like to break and enter." She started to walk away, leaving me a bit confused.

Then a light bulb lit up. "Wait, like the felony? Breaking and Entering?" 

She craned her neck towards me with smile, "see you around, Mr. Ripley. I expect to join you on the way to the game."

"Competition!" I corrected

"Same thing!" And with that, she turned around the corner to join Mr. Tornado Eyebrows.

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History of Spies. As a 1st year, I thought it was boring. Only being introduced to stuff like Revolutionary War, Civil War, French and Indian War, Oleg Gordiev­sky, Col. Sergei Ivanovich Bokhan, The Great War (WWI), WWII, and the Cold War. Now, while sending interesting, it was only tatics that  spy could use. As for Oleg Gordievsky and the Colonel, they were examples of how they were betrayed and how 1985 was not a good year for MI6.

But, now, as a 2nd year, History was interesting. We were showed more in depth studies and photos of notes and utilities spy would use to communicate. 

Not to mention some mythology thrown in there. Our teacher was a mythology geek. Either Norse, Egyptian, Greek, or Roman. She liked to incorporate it to make her point clearer sometimes. She even had a Percy Jackson poster in the middle of 2 out of 3 windows on the left wall.

"-And that is why Romans have different gods than the Greeks, just like how every Central Intelligence doesn't always have the same techniques," She looked at the clock, " and it seems that the bell will ring in 3...2...1!" Nothing.

Then the bell rang a few seconds later. "Aw," my teacher groaned, "so close."

We all grabbed our stuff and filed out of the door, some people yelping when they were smoshed against the doorframe. A sea of students was in the hallway, some having lockers to go to and other not. I was apart of the former. And as I was on my way to it, I was stopped by a wall of people. Of people!

I looked over some heads and shoulders to see a duel. And, no, not with swords or anything fancy. Just fists and a big size of fight in each of the boys. Tumbling on the ground, they through blind punches. Very little of them actually landed. 

The boldy-blonde colored haired guy on top sometimes even punched the ground when the other moved out of the way. He had spiky hair with a few scrath marks and scars on his chin and lips. I assumed he had green eyes. Why, you might ask, I assumed. Well, he looked like he was from New Zealand. I had a few friends from there to know. They all had green eyes, strangely enough. And also cause the ashe-blond guy under had glasses that reflected his face, so, yeah.

"HUGO! HUGO! HUGO!" Was chanted by most people around. The other second year. How jolly.

When the kid under had enough, he punched. And hard. Hard enough to land Hugo on his back with a bloody nose. It went deadly silent. 

He walked away slowly, clutching the area near his collarbone. And then I noticed it. The prosthetic arm with a tiger shark in a tattoo like fashion on his forearm.

"Ty?" I asked under my breath. I had looked at the first years' profile, because unlike Lilly, I hadn't met him yet, and also unlike other older colleagues, his wasn't yet safeguarded, making it easy to access.

Great. Two of my colleagues like getting into fights. Fan-freaking-tastic.

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Hi, macaronis. Sorry I haven't updated. In months. I was caught up with stuff. I hope you guys are having a good summer. Expect another update either by the end of this week or the next week. Bye! 👋👋