Chapter 3Mature

Right. You should probably learn some more about me.

I’m of non-descript height. Whatever average teenage height is, that’s how tall I am. If it was 5 feet 6 inches last year then I was 5’6”. If it’s 5 feet 3 inches this year, then I’m currently 5’3”. I don’t care about arbitrary numbers.

I’ve got green eyes and black hair. Long straight, butt long black hair. I hate that hair. Nothing would make me happier than to get that mass chopped off straight at the roots. I want to look like one of those badass video game characters with 30 face piercings and 20 more on each ear. Instead, in order to look inconspicuous, I go around looking like some starved and depressed emo teenage chick who wears nothing but black hoodies, leggings and miniskirts.

Leather jackets are so much more comfortable than hoodies.

Chemistry first period starts off so slow, time could have stopped and no one would have noticed. I swear, the collective IQ of this entire school, including all the teachers, could not have been higher than a carrot. Carrots have an IQ of 3. I’m not sure how I’m going to survive this place without destroying my own IQ.

It seems, the only other person in this mess that has some brains is this other girl, who looks relatively normal asides from her boots. My first instinctive thought is that I’ve found my target, but I realize that my target has to be much more inconspicuous to survive this long in this place without being found.

Blurting out cyanide certainly wouldn’t help that cover.

So when chemistry ends and she practically attacks me, I’m annoyed. A lot annoyed.

“So you finally decided to come?” I grunt, giving her a pretty evil glare. I’m a cynic and a pretty spiteful person. I’ll admit to it right now. “Where was backup 2 months ago?”

She shrugged.

“I only got the message this morning.”

I let out an exasperated sigh, trying not to seem too pissed. Germaine once again failed to listen to the calls of one of their best agents requesting for backup. A two month turnover was way too slow. I know I’m not Ann or Jayden. My record’s definitely not as impressive, but I’m not bad either.

“Oh look. Now I’m late for class. Thanks.” I pull off the most emo look I can give her, resuming my cover and pushed past her towards class, flashing her two hand signals as I went.

Three fingers. And then an OK sign.

Three o’clock, meet me at the alley next to the school.

Hopefully she understood.

The End

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