Covert Affairs

A new recruit this late in the year?

The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of my bedroom, casting long golden rectangles across the polished marble floors. Most Saturday mornings, I'd still be buried under my comforter, savoring those precious hours where homework and training schedules couldn't touch me. But here I was, perched on an uncomfortable wooden chair outside Headmistress Morgan's office at exactly nine AM, wearing my perfectly pressed uniform.

The hallway smelled like furniture polish and that particular scent that comes with old buildings. My roommates flanked me on either side, all of us shifting restlessly in our seats. The silence was the kind that made you hyper-aware of every small sound: the tick of the grandfather clock, the rustle of starched fabric, the soft breathing of nervous teenagers.

I rotated my ankle slowly, feeling the familiar twinge that reminded me of my rock climbing disaster a few weeks ago. The injury had healed completely—Dr. S had cleared me for full activity—but sometimes phantom pains still whispered through the joint, especially when I was stressed. I ditched the crutches days ago, much to my relief, though I had to admit I'd miss having Tyler haul my books around campus like some kind of overeager pack mule.

The thought of Tyler brought an involuntary smile to my lips. Three weeks ago, I could barely stand being in the same room as him without my blood pressure spiking. Now, we've been attached at the hip.

The grudge I'd held onto so fiercely had dissolved, replaced by something that felt surprisingly natural. It was as if we've been best friends our entire lives. We clicked in a way that made me wonder why I'd wasted so much energy fighting against it.

My phone buzzed against my thigh, and I glanced down to see Tyler's name on the screen.

Might head to the library in a bit to get a head start on this history of espionage paper we have due. Wanna come?

I typed back quickly, Can't. Headmistress Morgan called the girls and me down to the office.

His response came immediately: Uh oh. What did you do now?

Nothing. We're innocent! I paused, then added with a grin, Though...we did do some (unauthorized) hacking the other day, but I feel like that should be counted as extracurricular activities.

When you get kicked out of school, don't expect me to follow you out in protest. Tyler's reply made me snort softly.

Ha ha. The sound of the office door opening cut through my amusement. I've got to go, we're getting called in.

"Take a seat, girls." Headmistress Morgan's voice carried that particular authority that made even the most confident students straighten their spines. She gestured to the chairs arranged in front of her mahogany desk like we were about to face a tribunal.

The office itself was a study in timeless elegance. Dark wood paneling, leather-bound books that looked like they'd been chosen more for their impressive spines than their content, and family photos that managed to look both personal and carefully curated. Everything about this room was designed to make you feel like you were in the presence of someone important, someone who held your future in her perfectly manicured hands.

My stomach twisted as I settled into the chair, running through a mental inventory of our recent activities. We've been relatively well-behaved lately. No major rule violations, no international incidents, no accidentally starting diplomatic crises. Our grades were solid, and we'd managed to maintain our truce with the Blackthorne boys. So why were we here?

"Don't look so nervous," Headmistress Morgan said, though her smile had a devious quality that did nothing to ease my concerns. "You're not in trouble. I simply need a favor."