Masquerade Part Two

The corridor was bursting full of people. Tall boys, short boys, older boys stood in the corner, rolling their eyes at the younger boys with their obsessively high backpacks and ever enthusiastic glowing eyes that hadn't yet had the light knocked out of them. The chatter surrounding him was immense, like a chorus of nature, except made more acute by the fact that everyone was speaking in different languages. It wasn't weird to Dan though, it was common place to hear students discussing 'Johnlock' in Russian, or the last episode of great British bake off in Finnish.

Dan stood on the final step of the spiral staircase, gazing into the television room. There was only one room in the academy in which it was permitted to watch films or television. There were old battered sofas and bright beanbags, all pointed towards a widescreen television. It seemed like a great idea, except the programmes were usually ruled by popular choice and so Dan was left to watch his 'girly crap' in his room, all alone. He couldn't complain though, up until last year the academy had had an analogue TV that crackled and was prone to shutting off at random moments until you hit it hard with a shoe. Dan sighed, looking over the chaos of the corridor from the stairs. He would have to dive into the sea of people at some point anyway, it might as well be now, and he didn't want to be late for his 'world geography' class. Dan sighed, or maybe he did. Dan pushed his way through, people banging against him as if he were going against the tide. Tapestries hung from the walls, depicting lineage and history, dating back to the man who founded the school, way back in 1939. Famous inventions stood in glass cases along the walls, showcasing the first electronic pens, which were attached to a wire, which had to be hidden in your sleeve. It seemed so obvious to Dan as he was walking down the hall that this was a spy school, and yet he knew that it could be changed in a few minutes, the tapestries shooting up and hiding in the ceiling, the glass cases pulled back into the walls, even the posters showing you 'how to write a good plan' or '5 things you can do to spot a tail.' could be spun round to reveal posters about healthy eating or algebra. It could all go. Dan knew all of this, he could see all of this, all the rich history and beauty, and yet all he could think about was Phil.

Phil, with his sculpted cheekbones and fitted, black, skinny jeans. Phil with his gleaming black hair and floppy fringe. Phil with his half smirk and blushful cheeks, with his freckles and his shining eyes that hung onto your every word, with his tongue that stuck out slightly when he laughed and his shy look as he gazed through his eyelashes. Phil. Was it all just an act?

Dan almost walked into the wall at the end of the corridor, gaining a few strange looks from the people surrounding him. He really needed to get this under control. Phil was acting! He told himself, you will never ever see him ever again! He took a deep breath and stooped under the exceptionally low door way that led to his world geography class.

Looking up from the ground, he saw that the class was already full. Shit, he cursed under his breath. Mr Branham's eyes dragged slowly upwards from the desk, landing on Dan with a stern sort of glare. "You're late." He said curtly, his voice nearing on spitting hatred. He already didn't like Dan. He didn't like his sarcastic humour or witty attitude, he wasn't a fan of his eye rolls or sly comments. "I got lost." Dan said, raising an eyebrow as if to test him. "Very funny." Mr Branham drawled out, his accent Scottish and thick, "This is your fifth year Mr Howell and I suggest you buck up your ideas if you plan on staying here for a sixth. Now sit down." He pointed a chubby finger in the direction of the desk Dan usually sat at, his silver-white eyebrows looking as if they might jump off of his face.

Dan turned on his heel, heading towards his desk. He didn't know why he always did it, he really didn't, and there was no need for him to aggravate teachers. Maybe he was just bored, maybe he needed stimulation, maybe deep down he just had a desperate need for people to like him.

Enzo, Dan's best friend, looked up from the desk, shuffling forward slightly to let Dan in, a secret smile coating his face. "Was that really necessary?" he said, his slight accent giving away his heritage. Enzo was Mexican, his skin golden and his hair a deep brown. He looked similar to Dan, Dan's skin only a tiny bit lighter, in fact he and Dan had always joked that they must be related somehow. Dan shrugged his shoulders "just trying to lighten the mood."

Dan wasn't popular per say, but he was well-liked, by teachers and students alike. He got good grades without ever having to try that hard, and was always there with some form of a joke to make the classroom a little brighter. He didn't have too many friends, but in a year group so small, everyone was linked in some sort of way. In fact, it seemed like the only person who didn't like him was the man stood at the front of the class, in a tight, blue, sweater vest and a grey tweed jacket. "We will start today will a quiz on the physical features of Moldova, so I hope all of you prepared." The class let out a collective groan.

Dan didn't know why they had to do world geography. He had been told time and time again that it was important to know the surroundings if you're on a mission. But it seemed to him that if he got lost in Moldova, knowing that mount Dealul Bălăneşti's peak is 428 metres tall was not going to help him very much. He stared down at his paper, twiddling his pen in his fingers whilst resting his chin on his other hand.

Dan was bored, his eyelids threatening to flutter shut. He had been up late last night trying to finish an assessment analysing the famous covert mission of 1959, in which a pin had fallen from an agent's hair and extinguished the whole mission. That sentence alone was more exciting than the entire class. 'World Geography' Dan couldn't even make it to the end of the sentence without feeling tired. A sharp knock came at the door, pushing Dan's eyelids open and pulling his chin out of his hand, which was in danger of pushing his elbow off the end of the table. Mr Branham looked just as surprised as everyone else.

The door was pushed open, slowly, almost hesitantly. And there was Mrs Prueitt, the academy's secretary, a crowd of students behind her. Everyone leaned forward, their desks edging closer to the front, trying to see out of the door. For a school for spies, exciting things rarely happened. "Sit back down!" Mr Branham shouted, shooting a glance,
"Hello Mrs Prueitt, what can I do for you?"
"I have the students here, sir."
"The students?"
"The exchange students' sir, the ones from Augustine." Augustine. Why did that sound so familiar to Dan? Where had he heard it from? The students piled through the door, gathering at the front of the classroom. And then he knew. Because Phil Lester stood among them.

Thanks for reading and please review :) For anyone who is wondering, the next chapter of sharpest lives will be up asap :)