Ceilings were strange inventions.
I mean, they were like floors... but they were above you.
Yeah, I guess you could say I was officially bored out of my mind. And seeing as I had been trained to never, ever get bored, that was saying something. Then again, I never got good grades back in that unit. Cat? Oh, Cat had gotten straight A's. Then again, she always made good grades, on everything. Me and Kaia often questioned her resources. And, knowing Cat, I wouldn't doubt that she had hacked into the CIA database and gotten every answer.
Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear. My laptop beeped. I shook the mouse, and the screensaver jolted back to the desktop, which was covered in a sheet of black, striped with strings of green numbers, letters, and various characters in various languages. A little blue edged box was set, a little off center, in my screen, reading, "PASSWORD DETECTED." I clicked activate and sat back again.
Hacking government agency's databases was a hobby of most Whitefield girls, and the daughter of the headmistress was no exception. Heck, the daughter of the headmistress was expected to even more. I minimized the screen as I started to smell... BROWNIES.
I don't know about you, but whenever the scent of brownies reaches my nose, I must have them. Immediately.
Might be a fifteen year old girl thing. Don't know. Could be a good project for General Manipulations, though.
I tore out of the room and down the spiral staircase no one knew about but me and the girls. As I rushed past my mom, I heard a loud, "Blaire Allen! Why are you running?!" but I paid it no heed. My train of thought was speeding down one track: brownies, brownies, brownies, brownies, brownies.
When I reached the kitchen, Chef already had a plate out for me, as well as a glass of milk. Dear old Chef. I have no idea what we would do without him. And by we, I mean the school. That's where I was now; Whitefield High, an Academy for Elite Young Women. It was a boarding school, so me and Mom had been able to stay over the summer. I thanked him earnestly. He shrugged it off, beaming. He was always put in a better mood when people enjoyed his food.
I was licking the caramel off my fingers when I heard a plane land out back. My ears pricked up. I knew that roar... Kaia! I pushed the plate over the counter and sprinted to the field in back of the school. I was one of the single fastest girls in the school, and it showed. I went from the front to the back of the school in literally fifteen seconds. Think that's not much? You try crossing a mansion in that time.
I ran straight into Kaia's arms, laughing giddily into her blonde hair. She pulled away and held me by the shoulders. She's strong enough to do that, trust me. Her sapphire blue eyes (I'm not kidding, they look like freaking sapphires) scanned over me.
"Well, look at you, Blaire! You look good!" I beamed at hearing her lightly Irish accented voice.
"As opposed to?"
"The way you did after the Soviet assignment."
I shuddered. "Good example. C'mon, Chef made brownies!"
Kaia had been my best friend since we had met, halfway through last summer. I had been arguing with someone (I don't remember who) about if spies should be considered dead after a certain period of being missing. I said they shouldn't. My challenger said they should. Kaia had kindly come up and punched said challenger in the nose. And the friendship needed no further encouragement. We had met Cat at the beginning of the year. We were all roomies, hurrah! It barely took any time to warm up to her. Sweet Cat, with her infinite genius-ness and lack of confidence in everything else.
Me and Kaia chattered all the way to the kitchen, and from there to our dorm -room- whatever you want to call it. She dumped her stuff down on her bed and gestured to my computer. "Been working on hacking, have you?"
I nodded. She nodded at my nodding. "Good. I hear they do more computer-oriented assignments in sophomore year." We promptly launched into a conversation about different codes and how we could bend them for different styles of hacking.
"You can only bend that one one other way to get into CIA database," a voice said from the doorway.
"Cat!" Kaia and I shouted at the same time. She smiled. Black haired, hazel eyed Cat, skinny and small as anything. She hugged us both and handed us sleek black... somethings. At our puzzled expressions, she laughed.
"I call them the Minis. Phone, computer, iPod, pretty much anything. Translates whatever you put into it, audio or otherwise. All sorts of cool things. And yes, I made them." Cat said proudly. "Best part? You don't have to pay anything."
"Cat, you've outdone yourself." I mumbled, tapping at the touch screen. She beamed. I fell back on my bed, toying around with my new phone-computer-iPod-weapon thingy. I blew a chocolate brown lock out of my face and continued tapping the screen, tongue poking out slightly.
At some point, I went to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror for the first time in nearly a week. (I'm not much for vanity.) My eyes looked sleepy, I realized, if bright green could even look sleepy. Well, since mine did, I supposed it could.
I really needed to stop having conversations with myself.
I walked back out to Kaia dozing off, hand fumbling around. "Knife...knife...need my knife..." she was mumbling. I looked at Cat, who shrugged.
Why would she need her knife?
And I don't mean why-does-she-evidently-think-she-is-in-danger. You get used to that after your first week at Whitefield.
I meant why-is-she-using-a-weapon-that-we-have-deemed-not-good-for-fighting?
You do that after your first week at Whitefield, too. Kind of important to when you go to a school for young female spies.
