Classified.

Chapter 1 -Mission Accepted-

Sunday, November 11th, 2012 1:28 p.m.

Shane

"Shane," she snapped coldly, making me jolt out of my daydreaming state, "If you don't think you're ready for this task, you have the option of passing it along to the next eligible agent."

I stared back, honestly considering my options. I was aware that this was my time to show off what I am capable of doing, and that I am completely able to do what all the other agents can do. It was my first job and if I were to pass, it would show my weakness. I was trained to show no empathy for a reason. I was born for this. I shook my head, "No, ma'am. I am ready."

She smiled, pleased with my decision, "Good." she slid a folder across the table, and it stopped right in front of me, "Northwood High School. I'll send you the coordinates." she pushed the chair back and stood up, "Dismissed."

~~~

As I pushed the school doors open with confidence, all heads snapped towards me. Expressions in the face of my new classmates differed drastically. I analyzed their faces, and came to a conclusion as to what their emotions were at that second. Some of them were full of confusion, eyes squinted, eyebrows pushed together, lips relaxed but jointed. Others with excitement, eyes 2% wider than normal, eyebrows relaxed, corners of their lips lifted and lips parted slightly. The rest with pure disgust, eyes squinted, eyebrows relaxed, corner of their lip twitching. Whispers exploded throughout the lobby. Nonetheless, they were all staring at me as if I was some kind of alien. Rightfully so, I am the new kid.

I took a second to widen my focus to the groups. All the students were spread around in herds. Different "social classes" were in different corners, with a couple kids jumping from group to group. I figured these were the wallflowers of the school. This seemed strange to me. Logical, but a complete step back for the human race. No wonder there is so much hate in this world. The kids do not learn tolerance at a young age. They are taught to stay with people like them, in extension, to look down upon other groups.

The human race always fascinated me. Unlike every other animal on this Earth, a human being is able to be pray or a predator, to another human being. This is not a strength. This is a weakness. 

I took a second to get into my role. I gathered all my bravery and started to stride in. Knowing one of the block headed jocks would head my way, and smart talk me -just to show off to his girlfriend in the cheerleader circle-, I slowed down my pace in order to plan my reaction to it. Talking back has its perks and its disadvantages. Disrespecting him would gain me respect from the other students surrounding me, however it would also attract a lot of attention. This would raise unneeded questions, leading to unneeded interactions, which would undoubtedly turn into distractions.

Right on cue, out of the corner of my eye, I could see the moron starting to strut my way . His chest was puffed, shoulders back, and nostrils flared. It was the classic wrong stance of attack. If only he could see how senseless he looked.

I stopped walking and turned my body to look at him. I examined his looks, taking into account every pore, every hair, and every discoloration in his eyes. "May I help you?" I asked softly, trying to not be too intimidating, but still rude enough to put out a statement.

"Aw, little boy's getting feisty," he moped sarcastically while patting my head rhythmically. All the other numskulls behind him started chuckling.

"Little boy? Not quite. Try successful gentleman that has a brain three times the size of yours. If you are trying to make yourself look 'cool', I would advise you to stop picking fights and actually better your life. When you live in a box under a tree and cannot even afford to eat at McDonald's, I will be making more money than you can count to. In addition to that, I recommend you take better care of your arm candy." I glance at the girl that is now wrapped decoratively around his arm, "She's looking a little anorexic."

All the cheerleaders gasped and I smirked confidently. I started walking away with pride.

I only got about ten feet when I felt a hand on my shoulder, "Hey, I didn't catch your name?" I turned to see a beautiful dark haired, blue eyed girl. I looked down to see that she was wearing a cheer leading uniform. I kept my face blank then she spoke again with a melodic, smooth voice, "I know what you're thinking, I don't look like your typical cheerleader do I? I'm not as skinny as the other ones. But, being different is good. Normal is vastly overrated, and so is being stupid. See? I'm a pretty smart girl." she giggled. "I hate cheer leading. It's awful. I was forced into it by my mom. She says she wants the old 'cheery' Skylar back, but you know, I'm never going back to that. I'm me, and she can't change that."

I stared at her, still showing no emotion. It was hard to sustain myself. I really wanted to laugh. Not because she was pathetic, but because her rambling was extremely adorable. I went to open my mouth to speak but she started again, "Sorry, I'm very talkative." She gave me a friendly half smile and extended her arm towards me, "I'm Skylar Ryder."

I stared at her hand and then took it gently, shaking it slightly. I looked her in the eye and spoke as smoothly as I could, "Shane Martin." My voice cracked and I mentally cursed myself. I am 20 years old and my voice cracks in the worst moment that it can crack. 

She let out a small warm giggle, "Well, Shane, I think it was amazing how you stood up to Nicolai like that. No one in this school has ever dared to. He used to be so sweet, but lately, he's been acting strange."

I let go of her hand, dropping it to my side, and snapped my head up as I heard that. Could this be him? "What do you mean by 'acting strange'?" I questioned her, trying to not sound too eager.

"He's been secretive. Drained of his energy. It's starting to show in his game. Our touchdown average has decreased dramatically because of him. The coach is even thinking about kicking him off the team. Shame, he used to be our star player." she shook her head in disappointment as she explained.

I nodded understandingly, "What did you say his name is, again?"

"Nicolai. Nicolai Jones." she acknowledged, "I don't know, maybe it's nothing." she implied.

"Maybe." I shrugged. I decided to stop asking questions for now. I can't be too obvious. Although I did take a mental note:

        Nicolai Jones:

        -Brown roots, Strawberry blond ends.

        -Spiky hair.

        -About 6'1.

        -Muscular upper-body, scrawny lower-body.

        -Light brown eyes, circled by a dark shade of green.

        -Showing strange secretive behavior, and fatigue.

"So, where are you going?" she asked, returning the light, comfortable mood.

"Well, I have to go to the main office. I have to meet the person I am shadowing." I explained. Shadowing is what new kids here do. They have to follow a student around for a day to get used to things. My plan was to not talk to the person I am assigned to. I do not need to build relationships while I am on my mission. Even the 'relationship' I have built with Skylar has gone too far. I should have never talked to her for this long. On the bright side, she did provide me with my next lead, and for that, I thank her, but I do not plan on continuing to talk to her. 

"Oh, I see." she nodded. "So I'll see you around?" she smiled. As her lips formed that smile, I nearly gasped. A strange numb feeling attacked my stomach and time around me seemed to slow down. I did not know what this was. Her smile was beautiful, full of warmth and light. It instantly made my chest ache. The pain resembled the pain I had felt during my CPR training where I was given a chemical that would stop my heart so other agents could try to resuscitate me. I did not understand what it was but it was new, and I liked it. 

I nodded softly, "Yes, we will talk again."