Summary: Thalia's POV. Thalia Grace is 21 years old and works for an agency of young secret police. For her job, she poses as a teenager and goes to high schools all over Florida in search of unknown teenage criminals. But when she meets her new high school's "bad boy" Nico di Angelo, her life is turned upside down. Now she has to choose between her job as an undercover cop, or a possible future with Nico.
Chapter 1
Another Day, Another Mission
The doors of our headquarters are marked with the acronym Y.S.P.O.A: Young Secret Police Of America. A picture of a bald eagle lies underneath, symbolizing the United States.
I walk through the sliding glass door of the underground styling salon, bracing myself for my next assignment.
"Welcome, Thalia Grace," the lady with straight, hot pink hair greets me. I return a polite smile.
Looking past her, I see a row of young people sitting in front of mirrors. Hair stylists take care of their head's needs. On the other side of the giant room is another line of more mirrors. Makeup artists apply cosmetics to women's faces, and instruct them how to wear it. Towards the back are two giant closets; one is labeled men's and the other is women's. They contain all the clothes to match our new personalities. Our stylists run around the middle, tending for our every need.
"This way," the lady with pink hair guides me to the chief hair stylist.
"Hello Thalia," the hairdresser in charge starts, "Welcome back."
If I remember correctly from before my last assignment, her name is Larna. She is older, in her forties, and has short dark hair.
She shows a small smile and leads me down the row of hair stations. "Thanks," I say. "Have you thought about what personality you'd like for this mission?" she asks, as if changing my personality every couple weeks is normal.
We approach a chair with the label 27 on the back. It's towards the back of the line.
She gestures for me to sit in the chair. I obey and she turns me towards the mirror. "Well I haven't thought about it a lot... I was just a preppy cheerleader for my last task," I tell Larna as I look at myself in the mirror.
Long wavy brown hair falls just past my chest. My blue "Sebastian River High School" cheerleader T-shirt matches my eyes.
"You wanna switch it up?" she guesses, standing behind the chair I'm sitting in. "Isn't that the point of this whole underground facility?" I joke and she laughs.
"I know what style you should go for next," she looks at me in the mirror as her face twists into a fascinated smile. "What?" I question her, but all she replies with is "You'll see."
After my hair is washed, a black cloth is placed around my neck, protecting my clothing. I watch in the mirror as Larna snatches the scissors from the small table in front of me, and then prepare for the worst.
Within 30 minutes, half of my new hairstyle is completed. My once long brown hair is now reaching just past my shoulders. Side bangs meet the left side of my forehead and upper cheek. "It looks good," I reassure Larna. "Almost," She says and grabs the black hair dye off the counter. Here we go.
After about two hours, my hair is done. I stare at it in the mirror, and for a second, I don't even recognize who I am. Electric blue streaks accent my new jet black hair. "Thank you," I tell her. She smiles in return, and then sends me off to the makeup tables.
I approach a woman named Drew. She has medium length light brown hair and striking green eyes. Or maybe the makeup is making them seem amazing. "Black hair and blue highlights!" She squeals, "Good choice!" "Larna chose it," I confess. She rolls her eyes and takes my hand. "Sit, sit," she says with a ring in her voice. I take a seat in front of the varieties of cosmetics. Immediately, she goes to work. I close my eyes and she applies a thin streak of black eyeliner to the upper eyelid, mimicking the movement on my other eye.
After a few minutes, she's finished with all my makeup. And, just like before my other assignments, I can hardly recognize myself.
Drew smiles and guides me toward wardrobe. In front of the giant closet marked "women's" is a man. Nobody knows his name; everyone here just refers to him as "The Dresser". He's older, but has dark hair. The tape measure around his neck shows he's into fashion.
"Thalia! Welcome! I'm sure your last mission was a success, yes? I knew that cheerleader look would disguise you!" he babbles as we enter the giant closet.
I see the usual hundred rows of various shirts and jeans, along with underwear, pajamas, and other things. In here, there's enough clothing to last each secret police two weeks. We're provided just enough, then, when our mission is complete, we return, and receive our new personalities.
The Dresser notices my hair and makeup when his face lights up; he knows my new look.
He moves swiftly to the back of the room. I follow him through the lines of clothing.
Eyeing each garment on the rack in front of him carefully, he spots a jacket. Black leather combines with studs on the collar that shine when twisted in the light. "That's so cool," I say as he holds it up to my chest. "It better be," he laughs in return.
We continue to search through the seemingly endless clothing, and finally, The Dresser has an entire wardrobe picked out for me.
At the doorway of the closet, he hands me two bright blue, giant suitcases filled with clothes. "This will last you two weeks, Thalia," he smiles. I thank him once again, and then head for the front.
The lady I with the bright pink hair still stands by the doors behind her little desk. "All set?" she asks. I wheel the suitcases up next to my sides as I lean on the desk in front of me. "Ready," I tell her. I take a deep breath, preparing to discover where I go next. "Thalia Grace," she starts. Looking at her computer screen and receiving my personal information, she smiles. "You're next assignment will be in Stuart, Florida. You will be attending South Fork High School. Your homes for the next two weeks will be located in a community of peace: Stuart West Cobblestone." I nod at all the new information. "And can you print me a list of the possible offenders?" I ask, but she replies quickly, "I'm already on it."
I step out of the doors to our secret underground headquarters and head to the elevator placed a few feet in front of me.
Another day, another mission, I think to myself as I ascend into above ground territory. I sigh deeply, feeling like I could use summer vacation. The elevator doors open into a parking lot 3 levels high. Luckily I'm on the first. I find my little Hyundai car with ease, and jump into the driver's seat, throwing my luggage into the back, and placing the list on my dashboard.
Flipping down the sun visor, I open the mirror.
The black hair, the makeup, the clothes; it's all an act.
And for the next two weeks, that's all it's going to be.
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