Spy School Out West

Chapter 3

I started this chapter on 9/11, so I would like to dedicate it to the 2,996 people who died in direct or secondhand relation to the attacks, and to the countless brave men and women who risked their lives to respond to those atrocities. This is the least I can do to honor and thank the heroes of that horrid day in history.

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Ben's POV
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St. Smithen's Science Academy

June 3rd

0345 hours

I woke up at 3:45 sharp, then swatted at my alarm clock until it shut up. I put on some clothes, brushed my teeth in the dorm bathrooms, then walked out to the entrance gates.

Erica was wearing a crop top and jean shorts that somehow looked like she'd stolen them from a Yellowstone dressing closet. She had her hair done up in a way that I expected to see at my old middle school, looking like an average teenage girl.

The rest of us had gone for similar outfits. I wore jeans and a flannel, trying to lean into the fake-cowboy vibe that Balto and Walter projected. Even Cyrus had donned his cowboy hat and boots before we even got to the airport.

An unmarked sedan passed through the gates. I expected it to stop, but the driver kept going without even glancing at us. Cyrus caught me and Zoe staring after it and said, "our ride's a little more traditional."

Without bothering to detail this, he took a headcount and led us out the gates and down the street. We all started to talk to each other, because Cyrus showed no signs of slowing down.

Mike walked up next to me. "Hey, Rhodes," he said. I grimaced.

Rhodes was my cover name, pulled off the front page of Google. (I checked.) Whoever had come up with (plagiarized) that name probably thought it would be something me and Balto could bond about, having weird names. I just thought it was stupid to be named after a state. And not even a very remarkable one at that. "Hey, Jack," I responded, trying to sound upbeat.

Cyrus stopped so suddenly Zoe slammed into him. He clicked his key fob, and the headlights of a grey Honda Accord flicked on and off. "Hop in," he said.

Someone began to protest, but Cyrus said, "it seats seven." Before we started bickering about it, Erica claimed shotgun. I didn't fight her. Riding with the Hales often meant you had to use an actual shotgun.

I ended up riding in the way back, wedged between Mike and Chip. Zoe and Jawa had managed to nab their own seats, though they did have to deal with the luggage piled around their ankles. As a result, the commute to the airport left everyone cranky and frustrated. It was to the point where, while we were wandering around before our flight, we complained so much that Cyrus gave us money to go to McDonald's, something unheard of for him.

I was eating my McMuffin at a seating counter when Erica took a seat next to me. I set my food down to face her.

To my dismay, she was in her ditzy Sasha Rotko personality for the benefit of anyone who might have cared. Erica could switch between personalities and characters so quickly, it could be somewhat unnerving. She was like a chameleon.

"Rhodes, you're full cowboy! It's kind of a good look!" Then, to my confusion, she reached up to cup my ear gently, tucking some of my hair back.

It was kind of a weird move for her, and she didn't even slip me a radio transmitter like she normally did. Instead, she just sat there for a second, wondering what she should do, then put her hand onto the counter, palm up. I could see the transmitter between two fingers. In her high-pitched Sasha voice, she said, "I think it's time we take off the training wheels! See you later!" Before standing up and walking away.