Spy School Out West

Chapter 1

Hey yall! I'm Rat and this is my first Wattpad story. I wanted to let you know a few things before you start reading.

First, I'm in middle school and like I said, it's my first time, so please excuse any mistakes. I'm going to try my best to get characters and grammar right but if I mess up please tell me!

Second, I will finish this. It always bugs me when a really good writer starts a really good story, then stops because nobody's interested. Even if the only ones reading are the frogs in the garden, I'll finish it.

Third, this book is set after Spy School at Sea. For the purpose of this narrative, nothing after that book actually happened.

Finally, Spy School does not belong to me but to Stuart Gibbs. He does a remarkably better job than me so please go check out his stuff if you haven't for some reason. Enjoy!
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"Ripley!"

The wheezing voice snapped me from my thoughts. I had been thinking about summer vacation and how it was going to be nice to finally spend a break at home with my parents. I'd spent most of my school breaks since my recruitment to the Academy of Espionage chasing after notorious criminals.

"Did you just hear what I said?"

I decided to be honest. Crandall, the professor, was a doddering old man who was secretly a skilled agent. I knew he knew I wasn't listening, but today's Self-Preservation 101 topic was "Aborting Missile Systems," which I had been proven to be rather good at in the field.

"No, professor."

"Then you must feel you have nothing left to learn about aborting missile systems. Am I correct?"

"No, professor," I replied warily.

"Maybe some hands-on experience will help you to pay more attention. Please explain how to retriangulate a system of Cryllic HTML XC-93 Thermodynamics in under five minutes."

"Professor-"

"Or better yet, come demonstrate how to do so at-"

Crandall was cut off (fortunately) by a loud squeal, then a noise that sounded vaguely like an almost-empty ketchup bottle being squeezed.

My fellow students leapt to their feet, alerted by the sound of possible weaponry. I jumped up as well, trying to look prepared, though in reality I was awfully confused. And kind of scared. What kind of weapon made a noise like that?

I didn't have to wonder long. Soon, I heard the tinny music of Flapjack Frenzy, a simple phone game the principal was crazy about. (It's appropriately simple because the principal is not a very complex thinker.) There was a fumbling sound, then the principal began to speak over the PA system.

"Is this thing dead? No, of course it is. Darn system's even older than my toupee." The principal pounded on the microphone, then wondered aloud, "is this thing on?"

"Yes, Principal," Crandall said vacantly. He appeared to be preoccupied with something on his glasses.

"Send that rascal Benjamin up to my office. And do it quickly! You ought not to keep someone in my position waiting or there will be severe-"

"Benjamin?" The professor asked dully.

"Yes, Benjamin Ripley! Send him to my office! NOW!" The principal roared. Then I heard the losing sound of Flapjack Frenzy, so I assumed (more like hoped) this was what the principal was upset by, rather than Crandall's wherewithal- or lack thereof.

I grabbed my bag and hurriedly pushed in my chair before Crandall could force me to stay and make me reprogram the missile system. "You're getting activated for another mission?" classmates asked me as I raced up the aisle.

"I don't know," I told them all, then pushed through the double doors into the early summer air.

Now that I had left the threat of public embarrassment behind and had the threat of the angry principal ahead, I slowed my pace signifigcantly, taking some time to enjoy the summer weather. I pulled out my phone, a practice forbidden by professors during class, and caught up with some texts from my friends in the group chat.

Mike: Where r u ben?? We r waiting in Idiots office

Zoe: OMG WERE GETTING ACTIVATEDD ASDFGH

Chip: Your geting acvated

Chip: When

Jawa: Now dumbass

Jawa: We are walking to Hale building

There were two texts outside the group chat.

Erica: Ben, speed up

Erica: Seriously. You're irking Grandpa

Erica is an extremely talented fourth year at the academy. This is in part due to actual natural talent, but more so due to the fact that she's a legacy. Her grandfather, Cyrus, had trained her since preschool. Her family line stretched back to Nathan Hale, spy of the Revolutionary War. In fact, once her mother had shown me video of her sixth birthday party in which she had used her Chinese throwing stars to play Pin the Tail on the Donkey. In addition, she was extremely beautiful, and I'd harbored a crush on her through most of the time at the academy, over a year. On our last mission over spring break, she'd finally agreed to put the word on it and we had been a couple since.

I sped up, per Erica's request, then, once I was through the front door, ran through the mazes of bookshelves in the Hale building. The principal's office was marked by two armed guards and a paper sign that read PRINCPIAL - DONT DISTRUB. Given the spelling mistakes, I assumed it had been written by the principal.

The agents frisked me, then opened the door into the principal's "acting office," aka a storage closet. His desk was a piece of plywood propped on two sawhorses, the room smelled of ammonia, and with so many people, was crowded as a subway car in rush hour. His old one had a giant hole in it from yours truly, and the government was working to fix it, but the noise from the construction job filtered through our flimsy walls.

Chip and Jawa arrived soon after, looking excited, and Cyrus looked around. "I think we have everyone," he said. "Let's begin."

Hey, sorry not sorry about the cliffhanger, but this is already 1k words exactly, so I'm going to cut it here. Cya!

Publishing date: 9|7|24

Total word count: 1,000

- Rat