Chapter 23
I've never been to a normal high school. Never. I see all the dramas on TV about them, but I know they're not the same thing as actual high schools. Nobody can have that much drama in high school. I don't even have that much drama in my life and I'M A SPY! I sat in the passenger's seat of Ariana's car one November morning, twiddling my thumbs and waiting anxiously. After I found that dark angel flying around the White House (which Garret gave me an ear-full about when he saw me again), security has been tighter. Ariana now has to have me go to school with her. It was confirmed that he had been a terrorist (I'm not allowed to say how) and he hinted about a little ring of them in the US. Preston has his own agent watching him at school too. He's a colleague of mine, masquerading as an assistant teacher in Preston's Kindergarten class. Jonathan assigned me to watch over Ariana at her school because my age worked out perfectly. Ariana is a senior. I'm seventeen, the usual age for a senior. It's a curse and a blessing.
"So, basically you just follow me around all day? Like a stalker?" Ariana asked, smiling a bit as she turned down another busy street.
I nodded, chuckling at the stalker bit.
"Yes. Just like a stalker." I said.
We laughed until she turned into the parking lot of the rich, old building I recognized as Lancaster Senior Academy. The campus was green and pristine, landscape by no doubt the best landscaping team in Washington DC. BMW's, Mercedes, Porches, Ferraris, and other expensive cars were lined up in the parking lot and drop off loop. Wealthy students emerged wearing uniforms and expensive accessories. Ariana fit right in. I wore my usual work attire. Black top. Back bottom. Black boots. Dark sunglasses. Comms unit. Under my shirt, I has a holstered hand gun strapped to my lower back. Around my thigh, I wore a holster concealing several small knives. The holster was usually for a gun, but throwing knives are a good weapon too. Sometimes the old ways are the best ways to deal with problems. Garret's favorite expression.
Ariana parked her car, taking the keys out of the ignition. Her car was a cherry red Mercedes Benz convertible that cost two times my new black Audi, which Jonathan gave me the keys to when I brought in the dark angel terrorist. President McGallen let me park my car in the family's private garage and I didn't have time this morning to go drive myself. Ariana offered so I went along. I'm loving the new attitude she has. No longer bitchy-spoiled-brat every damn day. I like having someone my own age I can talk to at the White House too. Sure, I have Joshua, but we don't talk a lot when we're together. It's more like small talk, kissing, small talk, more kissing, small talk, and (yup, you guessed it) kissing. Joshua and I have been trying to keep our relationship a secret from Jonathan and my other superiors, and it's been going pretty well. We haven't been on an official date yet (What's taking that boy so long?!) but I can tell he's trying to ask me.
"All right, let's go." Ariana said, grabbing her bag from the backseat and slinging it over her shoulder.
We climbed out of the car, shutting the doors behind us. I pulled my sunglasses out of my hair and over my eyes. Taking the elastic tye around my wrist, I tied back my dark auburn hair into a low ponytail to keep it out of my face. Ariana flipped her blonde locks over her shoulder and swung her hips as she walked up to the marble stairs of the academy. People waved and called out Ariana's name. She smiled her ten thousand dollar smile (literally. Her smile cost ten thousand dollars with all the whitening and orthodontic work) and walked masterfully on her seven inch heels through the front doors of the academy. The halls were packed with wealthy high school students carrying around their smart phones or walking in packs. Nobody walked alone.
I clasped my hands behind my back, scanning the halls and watching the students carefully. They watched me with strange looks, whispering. I ignored them. First rule of spying, stay beige. Well, stay beige and don't get caught. The two main rules of spying. Ariana hooked arms with a raven haired girl and they started giggling over a boy in their chemistry class. She saw me and raised an eyebrow. I waved.
"Um, Ari?" the raven haired girl tapped Ariana's shoulder.
Ariana remembered that she hadn't made introductions yet.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Claire, this is Ember, my bodyguard. Ember, this is my friend Claire." Ariana said.
I smiled and held my hand out to Claire. She looked me up and down but didn't take my hand. I pulled it back. Well. Claire turned back around and her and Ariana walked out onto the courtyard. A group of girls laughed under a tree, basking in the shade of the large pine. Ariana and Claire joined the group. Each girl looked pompous, spoiled, and pampered. Not surprising.
"Who are you?" one with a nasally voice and an obvious nose job asked me.
"Your worst nightmare." I answered.
Ariana bit her lip and cleared her throat.
"Girls, this is Ember. She's my bodyguard." Ariana introduced me.
The girls all turned to look at me, checking me out and then glaring at me.
"How are you a bodyguard? You're, like, our age!" Nasal Girl asked.
"Exactly. I thought a bodyguard was supposed to be a person who actually stands a chance against an enemy?" said another girl with pink hair snappishly.
I raised an eyebrow, lowering my sunglasses and sending them the glare. They looked uncomfortably around at anything they could, just not at me. I smiled victoriously.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." I said, covering my eyes with my sunglasses and leaning back against the tree, studying the grounds.
The girls started talking again, still glancing occasionally at me. I ignored them. I'm here for one reason only and it's not to make friends with pompous rich girls. Protection, that's all I am. I can manage high school. I mean, I once took down a Peruvian dictator using nothing but a string and a paper clip. Bring it on, Lancaster Academy.
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Presidents, Spies, and Boys, Oh My!
Teen FictionWhat if you one day fell in love with a boy you weren't supposed to? What if that boy was your employers son? Seventeen year old Ember Rhinehart has been raised to become a CIA operative. Training ever since she could walk, she knows sixteen langua...