Spies In Disguise: The Skills and the Spies (#2)

Chapter 1: Spies Have Fun...Not

If you pay really close attention to me, or stalk me 24/7 (please don't let me find out that you do), you'll probably have noticed that when I'm with my friends or other people, they're the ones talking to each other, and I'm the one staring off into space, thinking about things that I can't tell anyone about.

No, I am not secretly plotting out murders or assassination plots, or anything like that. You see, I am not the normal, everyday kid that everyone expects me to be, and I'll list several differences between me and a normal kid:

Normal Kid: Worries about school, social life (friends), and family.

Me: Worries about school, social life, family, getting kicked out of the I.S.A., and the country's safety.

Normal Kid: Is pretty much an open book...most of the time.

Me: Has to keep several secrets that could put the country at risk.

Normal Kid: Leads one NORMAL life.

Me: Leads a DOUBLE life: a life as a 12 year old, and another life secretly working for an intelligence agency.

Yep, you guessed it. I, Stephanie 'Stef' Roxanne Carter, a 12 year old girl, work for the I.S.A. (Intelligence Service Agency). NOW DON'T LET ANYONE ELSE FIND OUT OR YOU WILL REGRET IT.

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If Ms. Serrano doesn't stop droning on and on about movement of and how they're related to geography, I'm going to fall asleep in class for the very first time. Ms. Serrano makes geography a very boring subject. Then, she'll make history another boring subject, because she teaches geography for the first half of the year and history in the other half.

Ms. Serrano is my geography teacher (in case you didn't know), and one of her habits is that she reads from her notes and lectures us in an extremely dull and boring voice. She also expects us to take notes as well. At the end of some classes, she assigns us a report or project of some sort, and it's usually due the week after, or two weeks after. We don't get much time to complete the report or project.

My friends, Norma and Natasha, look like they want to sleep any minute. Norma and Natasha both have dark brown skin, and they're from India, or somewhere near India. Natasha's doodling on a sticky note I gave her (typical Natasha, always doodling ballerinas), while Norma has a piece of paper out and scribbles down some notes occasionally, like me. Norma's writing the words 'floofy' (it's an actual word) and 'fluffy unicorns' on the side of her sheet.

I, on the other hand, am finger combing my long, light brown hair. I braid my hair in one braid down my back, and five minutes later, I'm satisfied with the result after patting my head to make sure there aren't any parts of my hair that stick out from my head.

"Lucky grade 8s," Natasha whispers to us.

"They have it better than we do," I grumble.

I look over to the other side of the room, where the grade 8s are, reading their textbooks and scribbling down notes. Our class is a grade 7 and 8 Scholastic class. We're in the Scholastic program, a program for kids that 'learn faster and are talented in a certain area'. However, most of our teachers insist that we are the same as the kids in the regular program.

(A/N: The Scholastic program and the I.S.A. are entirely fictional.)

Us grade 7s are on the other side of the classroom, listening to Ms. Serrano drone on and on. I eagerly check the watch on my left wrist, waiting for the moment when class will end. Unfortunately, there's at least half an hour left.