Disclaimor: I don't own this story.
Important: So I've already written some of Zach's POV to Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy on this website, but that was before the fourth book came out. The fourth book revealed a lot. So then I decided to revise his POV. Hopefully, I don't give too much away. This may contain spoilers if you haven't yet read only the good spy young, but they're really subtle. I suggest you give my story a try. It won't be perfect, considering Zach's a pretty mysterious type of guy. Well, enjoy :]
Two miles. I, Zach Goode, sprinted through the woods for two miles. A light sheen of sweat covered my muscled body. My breathing was easy and steadfast. This was nothing. Two miles was simply a warm-up with the hard training I had dealt with. However, this two-mile run wasn't about getting in shape or challenging myself to push past my limit (there should be no limit after all). No, this two-mile run was about two goals: focusing and not focusing. Focusing on my surroundings, yet not focusing on the troubled parts of my mind.
My first goal was instinct. It was easy to let my eyes observe the barren wood, the ground cloaked in snow. It was easy to allow my ears listen to the whistling wind, my feet padding along frozen ground. It was easy to let the husky woods invade my scent, the cold tighten my muscles, the bitter breeze bite my tongue. Focusing and observing was what I had been trained all of my life to do.
Not focusing on things no fifteen-year-old guy should have to know is definitely a thousand times more difficult. Some of the things I've witnessed can't be turned off easily. I wish I had a light switch in my brain to do that. I know a little part of my mind wants me to whine "why me?" at moments. They say ignorance is bliss. But I know that will never happen in my world.
What exactly is my world? Well, I'm going to narrow it down to one word: spy. That's actually why I'm documenting my life. I need practice for reports. People say reports suck. No one wants to go through a dark (but exhilarating) mission to come back and write about it. So what better way to prepare for this than writing about my dark (but exhilarating) life? Something good is bound to come from this cool, manly journal that I'm taking an effort in writing.
Anyhow, I finally stopped at the barred entrance to my school: Blackthorne Institute for Boys. From one look at it, someone would instantly think prison. Barbed-wire fence. Check. Searchlights and security cameras. Check. No trespassing sign. Check. Surrounded by mountains. Check. Huge brawny guards. Check. Bright yellow jumpsuits. Check. Dragons. No. (That would make everything way cooler though.) Basically, these were all the works for a private detention facility (except for last thing, of course).
I would say our cover worked out nicely. Sometimes we would go for a run or do some drills close to the town in our sexy jumpsuits and see actual civilians. Usually when they saw us, they would start walking briskly in the opposite direction or stare and shake their heads. Sometimes, the more warm-hearted ones would smile sympathetically and wish us a good day (as if you can have a good day in a jumpsuit). On rarer occasion, a few teenagers had found it funny to laugh and yell out insults. (You could totally tell that they were wannabe thugs though). The point is no one wanted to go near Blackthorne, and no one wanted to see us "juveniles". Given the situation, we liked it that way. Perfect cover.
A grim-faced guard stopped me at the entrance, bringing me out of my thoughts. "What's your name, son?"
I decided to stay quiet as he started checking me over. Fingerprinting me and all. I knew this was a "prison" but I know he knew who I was. So what was with this extra security?
He fidgeted. His face read impatient. "I think I asked you for a name."
I wanted to roll my eyes. I'm Zach Goode. Member of the Blackthorne Institute. Spy. Or at least, spy-in-training. I have every right to be here. And even if I'm dressed like a thug, I'm not actually one.
"Can I call you Jimmy?" I asked. He didn't respond. If looks could kill, I think would be dead now. "Well, Jimmy, you and I both know this whole encounter is completely unnessary. I know you, and I know you're name isn't really Jimmy." I pointed at myself. "And you know me. You know we're tight." I demonstrated by holding up my hand and crossing my two fingers. "Like this. Now, can I just-"
"Name!" Jimmy was touchy today.
"Zach." I smirked. "You saw me go out for a run twelve minutes and twenty-one seconds ago, remember? I haven't changed." He almost looked disappointed at that news as I gestured at my sweaty attire. "Except for maybe the fact that I'm covered in my perspiration. But hey, that's normal. Fact of the human body."
He looked down at me, expressionless. "Sorry, kid. New protocol." His hand skimmed over the weapon at his side, as if I would be against this new rule. Maybe I was. All of this pointless interrogation was wasting my precious time. "Don't worry, Zach," he said my name the way I said 'Jimmy', "this is only for today." Then he began his long list of questions about my life. I answered robotically, until I realized what he had said.
"This is only for today," I quoted him. "What's so special about today?"
He hesitated, clearly contemplating whether he should tell me or not. "Well, it's the first day back."
"And?"
"And I believe that we might be getting a few visitors." He stopped there. Well, that was enough for me. I sighed as he continued his questions, counting the minutes and seconds this was taking. If protocol said I had to go through this, then I might as well practice my internal clock.
Finally, after four hundred and twenty-one seconds, I was let go, and I decided to push the surprise visitors from my mind. Sure, it was interesting news, but I had a feeling I would find out soon enough.
I shuffled forward into the dark building, and the smell of cleaner came to my nose. No matter what anyone did though, I think there would always be that dirt and grime feeling underneath. Welcome home, I thought.
A sigh came out of my mouth. I still couldn't think which was worst: my winter break or this school. Winter break consisted of highly classified family business I didn't want to be a part of, and school was basically repetition of techniques I already knew. Plus, my school was a disguised prison. That could depress a guy. On the otherhand, I think being with my family was an actual prison. The two ideas battled in my head as I made my way through even more security to the main hall.
People were still arriving and arriving slow. I blamed this on stupid security and stupid Jimmy. I groaned internally and decided to lean against the stone wall, steady my breathing, and simply observe. Everything was exactly like before. Not one toe out of place. Yep, my school was just as unwelcoming as ever. Yet it had a reputation for breeding the best spies, hardcore spies, genius spies. And other things too, but that's a different story.
Then I thought back to the Jimmy. Visitors. Who would be visiting Blackthorne? Who would want-
"Attention, everyone," Dr. Steve, our "headmaster", called out to the audience in attempt to calm the crowd, completely stopping my train of thoughts. He raised his right hand for emphasis. No one stopped talking. Everyone was too busy shivering from the cold to want to listen. They were probably telling stories from break as well.
Typical teen behavior. Well, as typical as spy teens in yellow jumpsuits could be. I'm sure typical teens don't break into foreign prisons to break out incognito spies. I bet that typical teens don't know how to speak fourteen different languages or crack impossible government codes. Typical teens probably haven't hijacked a plane or gone to various places in the worlds in that aforementioned plane. I think I'm proud to be called an untypical teen.
"Please, if I could have your attention." Finally, everyone's voices dropped. "Excellent. I'm glad all of you have made it back safe and sound, and I hoped you enjoyed your winter break."
Yeah right. I wish I could say I loved my winter break, but then I'd be lying. This school was the best escape from my family I had, and I definitely do not have that poster family, dog-with-a-white-picket-fence life. I guess that doesn't come in the package of an untypical teen.
"Before I begin, I would like to discuss with you a change in our curriculum and an opportunity for fifteen students." He paused. People shifted their feet. I yawned. "Some of you may or may not know it, but we are not the only school for spies." And of course, the crowd went wild. This included my two roomates, Grant Anderson and Jonas Dale, who I could see through the pack of students. Both had a look of awe on their faces.
I rolled my eyes. I mean, hello? Where else would the most dangerous female agents be produced? I already had personal experience with one. Let me tell you. You definitely don't want to cross them. "Silence, please. This semester, with the collaboration of the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women, an exchange program has been organized."
Now I was interested. A ticket out of Blackthorne.
With girls included.
I could already feel a smirk reach my face.
I was totally and completely in.
BBBBBBBBBBBB
Joe Solomon. Toughest, unknown (the best are the ones you don't know) spy to many. Dangerous, most admired alumnus to us. Why would a man like that way down here, in my covert operations class?
When I say 'way down here,' I literally mean way down in the ground. Covert operations class will be and probably always be instructed in a classroom below land. For some reason, they want to keep this subject extra secretive. I think this has to do with us being spies. Just a little.
"Hello, Blackthorne Institute," Joe Solomon announced to the class. Absolute silence greeted him. Our best alumnus, best spy was here and everyone wanted to hear what he had to say. After learning some of everything he's done, it's impossible to not want to be like him. Even my dear old mother respected him. "As you've heard, the top three students in the grade will be going to Gallagher Academy. I, myself, will be teaching a little bit of CovesOp. Therefore, I'm Mr. Solomon to you."
I smiled inwardly. I knew I would have to be chosen. Sure, I'm conceited but I'm one of the best. No one could deny it, even if they didn't like my cocky demeanor. Later, I would learn his motive for teaching. He didn't seem like the type to just quit the forces, and he wasn't old enough to retire.
Dr. Steve entered behind Mr. Solomon, pulling a woman with him. "Boys, this is Headmistress-"
"-Morgan," the woman cut him off. Around the room, I could see my fellow classmates share smirks with each other. They probably all thought the same thing.
Headmistress Morgan was a babe.
However, at the mention of 'Morgan', I instantly stopped thinking of her looks. Something about her surname was all too familiar.
Well, I guess I have just discovered who these oh so mysterious visitors are. Go me.
"I-"
"-of Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women," Dr. Steve interrupted her back, determined to finish his introduction. He smiled at the class, proud of himself. "Gallagher. Gallagher. Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. Wow, what a mouthful! Very prestigious n-"
"Yes, a prestigious name is a good cover for a disguised pretentious school," Mr. Solomon barged in, knowing Dr. Steve could turn a small introduction to a very boring monologue.
"So-"
"Oh yes, it's an honor to have this amazing woman with us in person," Dr. Steve continued. "Ex-"
"It's an honor to be back here too, Dr. Steve," Mr. Solomon replied a little too sharply. Dr. Steve beamed, obviously unaware of his not-so-friendly tone.
Ms. Morgan cleared her throat all business-like and smiled. I guess she was kind of hot. From the other guys' expressions, they clearly thought so. "In a few weeks, three students will enter our walls and learn what this school's about. I cannot deny that your education here is one of the best. However, this exchange program is about placing yourself in a new environment, getting to know the future female agents you will be working with someday, and learning something from one of the top academies in the world."
"Excellent, Rachel," Dr. Steve chimed in. "I couldn't have said that better myself." For once, I totally agreed with the doc.
Mr. Solomon nodded, completely disregarding Dr. Steve, and stepped forward. "The three that are chosen must understand that every school has their own secrets. People have their own secrets."
He paused and I could've sworn I saw his eyes flicker to mine. "You may be welcomed at this school, but if you start digging around for files you aren't meant to touch, then you'll be sent back here for punishment and I will see through that you get what you deserve. My warning is not meant to be taken lightly. As for Blackthorne's secrets, you are to keep them between the brotherhood you have here. I don't want this information to be spread too far and too wide."
His piercing glare caused the room to shiver, proving subtly that he was dangerous and not a force to be reckoned with. "I hope you understand."
He looked straight at me.
What. The. Heck.
"That's right. This man here lays down the laws," Dr. Steve said enthusiastically. "He's excellent. The very best. All of you should-"
"Thank you, Joe, but I believe that keeping secrets is second nature with these gentlemen," Ms. Morgan commented lightly, trying to break the tension that hung throughout the room. "At least, I hope this school has drilled that into them."
"Certainly," Mr. Solomon murmured, finally looking away.
"Now to business," she replied brightly. "We don't want to take time away from your learning." She pushed a strand of hair from her face. "So based on test scores, grades, recommendations from teachers, and your personal files, we have made a decision. It wasn't easy, gentlemen. You're all very exceptional." She began scanning her clipboard.
"There's no way I would turn this thing down," Grant, who is not only my roomate but my usual partner-in-fighting, whispered not-so-quietly to me. "Anything to get out of this joint, man. And these yellow things." I nodded in agreement. Out of all the words for jumpsuit in the English, French, Russian, etc. dictionary, Grant came up with 'yellow things'. Now I remember why I liked him so much: he kept things simple. Very simple. And hey, at least he knew the color of our uniforms. That's a huge sign that we're dealing with a genius here. "And away from Dr. Steve," he continued. "And we still get to be kick-ass spies. And we get to be kick-ass spies in an all girls school!" I almost expected him to jump out of his seat in glee.
"Grant Anderson," the headmistress' voice rang through the classroom. He bolted back into his seat. "Would you be willing to participate in this opportunity?" Relief, then surprise, and then excitement flashed through his face. His face was like an open book. He definitely wasn't chosen for concealing emotion skills. Maybe it was the fact that he was the best at physically beating up or possibly killing someone. I knew I could always count on him to back me up.
Grant pumped his hand in the air and yelled, "Yes, ma'am!"
She smiled and then looked back onto her clipboard. "The other young man is Jonas Dale, but I believe he isn't taking CoveOps." She looked up and the silence proved she was right.
I could have bet that the genius of geniuses would be picked and won. He could be the next Albert Einstein or something. He deserved this.
"Last but not least, Zachary Goode."
I heard disappointed sighs across the room and I smirked. "Definitely." Yup. Definitely not the least.
Mr. Solomon shifted his feet.
I don't understand what his attitude toward me meant, no matter how subtle it was. I can't deny that it made me feel a little uncomfortable. No way would I back out of this program though. Even if this spy seemed like he didn't want me there. I ran my hand through my hair in annoyance. He doesn't know anything about me. I can't be on his bad side already.
"Excellent. Excellent. Excellent!" Dr. Steve said as if saying 'excellent' three times would make 'excellent' even more excellent. "Grant, Jonas, and Zach will be traveling with me. This is great, boys." I shook my head, rolling my eyes. "Excellent, even." Quality time with the very excellent Dr. Steve. Fun right? Not. I could hear Grant groaning quietly at this news. I guess you can't get everything you want.
"Kill me," Grant whispered.
I snickered, raising an eyebrow. "That could be arranged," I joked.
"Girls," he muttered to himself. "Girls. Just think of the girls. Not Dr. St-"
"It's an honor that these top three students and/or athletes will be boarding at the Gallagher Academy," Ms. Morgan announced, stopping our conversation. "This means dining with us, sleeping with us, learning with us, and most importantly, working with us. I hope that you gentlemen will make the best of this exchange program in every way possible."
I smirked. Mr. Solomon and Dr. Steve flew out of my mind. The only thing that mattered was that I was getting out.
Out of Blackthorne.
Here I come Gallagher. Here I come.
So that was chapter one. Reviews are awesome :]