Life of a Teenage Assassin [ON HIATUS]

7) Life of a Teenage Assassin ~Plans

I watched as he rounded the corner of the hall and disappeared from my view. Then, I quickly threw my broom and sweeper back into his mess of a closet and rummaged through his drawers for a pen. I found his pretty gold fountain pen with a metal bird on the end. Perfect. I pushed some of the paper aside to reveal an open, clean space in front of his monitor. Clicking the pen, I began to doodle.

And doodle...

And doodle...

And doodle...

Finally, what seemed like eternity, the door knocked and some agent lady wearing lopsided glasses and carrying a bin full of papers peeped her head in. Her eyes widened from underneath her half-moon spectacles, but otherwise kept her mouth shut. Smart lady.

“Er...Dr. Ross needs to speak with you. He’s in the coffee place on level 1.” I nodded and she left. I turned back to my drawing. It was mindless doodles, a monkey there, a footprint here, spirals everywhere. I’ve been told I could have been an artist if I hadn’t picked up secret agent work. But that would have been too lifeless for me. No excitement.

I looked around Drew’s room. I hadn’t done any cleaning unless you count doodling on his desk with his most expensive fountain pen cleaning. But, if luck was on my side, I’d be on the plane before he saw any of this.

I looped down the hallway and into the elevator. Stepping inside, I checked my watch. Hmmm...5:30 PM. I had about two hours 30 minutes before take off. I was getting giddy.

By the time I reached the coffee shop, I was running. Fast. I spotted Drew’s curly brown hair and ran to him. He was sitting there with a lady agent, with a red bow in her fake blond hair, and wearing way too much make-up. She looked half his age. Ew. But, not my problem. I tapped him lightly on the shoulder and he turned around. I smiled sweetly...in a way I hoped looked innocent. 

"So...am I allowed to leave?" He glanced at his 'friend' who was eying my jealously. He just nodded once. No "Goodluck!" or "Have fun!". Just a stupid nod.

I was just about to leave, when a question popped into my head. I turned back around and tapped Drew again. This time, he turned around exasperated. His girlfriend was glaring at my murderously. I wanted to step back with my hands up and say "Chillax, he's too old for me." But didn't, since it probably wouldn't make a difference. Instead, I just asked my question.

Hoping I looked apologetic I asked, "So, I forgot to ask, what is my coverup story? I can't just say I'm going to Fargo to kill your brother because he's a drug dealer under cover that you have no idea about!" Drew sighed and rubbed his brow.

"Um...that you're there to practice music at Davies?" He said it like a question. I rolled my eyes.

"Ok, who came up with that one?"

"Uh...Chad, actually." Chad or Dr. Mason was his co-worker and assistant in some ways. He usually came up with the stories, since Drew was horrible at them. But as you can see, they're both potatoe heads sometimes. I do wonder how they became nominees with the title "Dr".

"Well, one: Remember, this is Scarlet Taylor you are talking about. The one that can't sing. Like, at all. And two: Since when did Davies have a phenomonal music department? That's just lame. L-A-M-E." Drew looked at my tiredly.

"Well, what's your proposal? That you are too stupid to--"

"Don't even finish that sentence Drew. Don't you dare." 

He looked at me expectantly, "So you propose...?" He drifted off, waiting for me to finish.

"Er...that I'm doing a report on the four seasons. I mean, Fargo is known for the distinct seasons right? And a year should cover it. Or less, considering this is me we're talking about."

Drew looked mildly surprised, which was very insulting to me, but I bit my tougue. I may be mean, but I don't go into other people's business (generally, unless they go in mine first) and I have a feeling, that lady friend of his won't be too happy if I mouth off the bad things about him. No matter how much I seriously want to. 

"Alright, we'll go with that. Now BYE." He turned back around. Talk about ru-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-de! But like a pro, I walked out of there without another word. I'd get my revenge when he see's the new 'designs' on his beloved desk. That nuisance.