Bite the Bullet, Not the Dust

Chapter One

Chapter One

There comes a time in every young person's life where we have to grow up, and make a decision.
Some of us have different skills than others. Some of those talents are marveled and glorified, and the rest of us stand in awe, wishing we had them.
And then there are some of us whose talents are hidden, unknown to the average man.
We are the ones they call spies.

Yep, that's me, Jules Parker. I'm only fifteen, but I have the ability to decode the U.S.'s satellite systems, and kill a man with only a toothpick and a nail clipper. But that's only the beginning of my story.
My sophomore year was an eventful one, filled with lots of things I'm not necessarily proud of. My dad told me to record them in a written review for practice, because spies always fill out reports of their covert operations.
One thing I will tell you is that my spying abilities are natural, and that's because, well, I'm easy to forget. It's an asset, and a gift. It helps when at four years old you've successfully stolen the big brown teddy bear from one of the booths at the county fair. Needless to say, it was kind of awkward for my father when he had to return it to a confused (and slightly embarrassed) booth worker. The booth worker didn't remember me when we came back the next year.
If I'm going to be dramatic about this, I guess I'll start off with telling you that my tale begins on the red-brick grounds, amidst the chaos of chattering teenagers, of Greenberry Academy.

The air was crisp with an autumn breeze, and it smelled of new books and sweaty boys who have had too much time to mess around. Lip glossed and hair-straightened freshmen girls loitered around aimlessly, frantically searching for their friends so they wouldn't seem alone.
I smoothed the green and gold plaid skirt and straightened my new, white blouse. I was thankful for the uniform - one more way to blend in.
Sophomore boys walked by without noticing me. I really shouldn't have minded the fact that they ignored me, although I wouldn't have been opposed to a little once-over, 'cause hey - I may be a spy, but I'm still just a girl.
They did notice, however, the pretty brunette who was leaning against the railing of the white picket fence that outlined the school grounds. The brunette, by the way, happens to be one of my best friends. She had a phone in her hand, and while those boys probably assumed she was scrolling through Instagram, I knew for a fact she was checking if any of our professors were ex-KGB agents (I'd have to ask her later what she found).
She looked up at them and gave them a glittery white smile, and the boys swooned even more when she greeted them with a "Hola, chicos". Personally, I thought she was laying on her Spanish accent a little thick.
"Hola, Celia," I said casually after the boys had walked away. "Cómo está?"
She playfully punched my arm and continued scrolling through her data.
"Where is Spencer, Jules?" she asked in English.
"Not sure," I replied, looking through the crowds of teenagers. "But she should be here any moment."
For a second, Celia's eyes looked panicked. But she calmed and asked in a hushed voice, "Why has your father brought us here?"
"I'm not really sure," I answered quickly. It was true, the only information I had been given was that something was going on at some private school, and Dad needed me to help out.
I didn't exactly know why a private school would need outside help from a highly esteemed operative (that's me, by the way), so it all was a little strange.
"Orientation is in the gym!" a random adult called out.
Celia and I followed the line of students who were filing in. There was a stage where the principal by the name of Sarah Canterbury was going to give a speech about how great this year was going to be.
I wasn't listening at all until my sharp vision noticed a shadow looming over some students a few rows ahead of me. I looked to the side of the room at the big, glass windows, and sure enough, Spencer Hastings was rappelling off the side of the building.
Celia must have noticed too, because she leaned towards me and hissed, "What the heck is she doing?"
In spite of it all, I couldn't help but smile.
"She's being Spencer," I whispered back.
There was no need to worry if she made it down safely or not, because a few minutes later, she slid into the seat next to me. Nobody noticed, and her glowing smile beamed with pride. Though I'm sure in a few moments, the males in the room heads would start to turn towards the chestnut-colored hair with blue highlights. Only a girl with a face and body that belonged to a beautiful fitness fanatic could pull off that look.
So, yeah. Basically, I had two bombshells for best friends...and I wouldn't want it any other way.
We waited until orientation was over, and then headed over to our rooms we were staying in.

AREA 1
1600 hours: The area appears to be sterile and without poison or lethal weapons. Also, very nicely accessorized.

We checked every floorboard to see if there were any creaks or hollow spots. There were no hidden cabinets behind the mirrors, or any plumbing underneath the sink that reeked of liquid nitrogen. There was, however, an old bottle of perfume that smelled like it could have been a poisonous substance.
I plopped down on one of the comfy cushions of couch and laid out our files and pictures on the coffee table.
Celia flipped through the papers and pulled out a large, over-saturated picture of a girl with tan skin, platinum blonde hair that went to her elbows, and green eyes.
"Who's this?" she asked.
Spencer was holding an important looking document.
"Our mission," she answered with a devious smile.

***

"THAT'S our mission?" I blurted out incredulously.
"What were you expecting?" Celia challenged, cocking her hip.
"Bomb threats against the school, the principal was trying to get a higher level clearance in the FBI, one of the teachers was a fugitive, I don't know! Something normal!"
Okay, I admit it. I have a pretty skewed idea of normal.
But our mission was to protect the rich, popular Lacey O'Ray. Yeah, THAT Lacey O'Ray. The one whose father has been in a million movies and whose mother owns a very successful hair product franchise.
Apparently, there had been some very secretive threats against her. The threats were from the inside, and they were from agents so top secret even the FBI and Secret Service didn't know about them.
That's why the job was for, well, us.
Yeah, I know. Totally weird!

Identification Operations Report
by Julianna Parker, Celia Marcos, and Spencer Hastings, hereafter referred to as: "The Operatives"
The Subject: Lacey O'Ray
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Green
Weight: 120
Occupation: student
Other relations: besides parents, unknown

"We have to find out more about her," Celia said, stating the obvious.
"But first," Spencer said very dramatically, whipping out three cards from her pocket. "Our covers."
"Student ID's," Celia whispered, her face practically glowing.
"Do we use our real names?" she asked warily.
"No," Spencer said swiftly. "My name is going to be Taylor Bradthorne; a quiet girl who enjoys peaceful nature walks and poetry."
I glanced at Spencer's electric blue highlights and bit back a laugh.
"Have fun with that," I muttered.
"Ooh!" Celia giggled over hers. "I'm Rebecca Crawley and I love British dramas and eating cheesecake late at night!"
I couldn't help but laugh at that one, and for a second, it felt like we were back at our home (or, spy headquarters) messing around with my dad's old spy equipment.
But the feeling vanished as soon as I pulled out my card.
It read: "Rose Parrish, a spoiled cheerleader who befriends the Subject"
I glanced at Celia, wondering if we could switch.
Spencer merely crossed her arms, and gave me that look that only a spy, and a best friend, could give.
"I think it's time to go pom-pom shopping."