OMG! I love you guys! I got about 20 story alerts, and 5 reviews! Thank you! Yeah, this is book verse, and I'm talking about Sabrina, not Sabina! I don't really like her either... And Btw this is no slash! Ugh... I'm not a supporter... Anyway, its shorter, but I'm going to play softball tonight, so I didn't have much time! Love ya'll! :)

Chapter 2.

Tom yawned as he took a break from taking notes. Alex was taking longer than usual, but he didn't think much of it. He'd seemed preoccupied that morning, and he was probably thinking about Jack again.

Tome leaned back in his chair and glanced out the window.

There was a beautiful old oak tree he liked to look at, with a family of squirrels in a hole near the top. He looked across the grounds, at the security gates, the fence, a hedge, Alex and a MI6 agent fighting...

Tom leapt out of his seat and pulled open the window, and took his cell phone out of his pocket as he did so.

"Tom! Sit down right now!" His teacher shouted, glaring at him. The rest of the class snorted.

"Professor, I need a hall pass!" Tom cried, as Alex fired his gunaphone. The gunshot seemed ten times as load with the window open, and the professor froze, his glasses, slipping off of the end of his nose.

The teacher ran to the window, knocking tom aside, and leaned out of the window, staring around. None of the security guards seemed to have heard the shot.

Tom flipped open his phone and dialed the police as the rest of the class ran to the window, yelling excitedly.

"Hello, this is Tom Harrison, I need MI6!" Tom bellowed into the phone. Alex was trying to fight the man off, the bullet had only grazed the mans side.

There was silence on the end of the line, then a gruff voice said "This is Agent Collins of MI6, Tom, is something wrong with Agent Rider?"

"You can bet your butt there's something wrong!" Tom yelled. "He's being attacked! Get over here! He isn't going to last!"

The person on the end of the phone disconnected abruptly, and Tom snapped the phone shut.

The teacher was now yelling at Alex and the man, telling them to stop, and to please put the gun down, but the next round of gunfire from Alex's attacker's gun shut him up as he slammed the window shut.

Alex was now doing a series of karate moves, roundhouse kicking the man in the gut, and a swift elbow to the groin when he doubled over. Alex pushed the man over with his knee and trailed the gun at his face.

Tom could.'t hear what was being said, but as soon as Alex was done talking the man tried to grab him and pull him down.

Alex shot the dirt beside the mans face, and Tom winced. He looked over to the right where a large truck was driving straight through the gates to the school.

MI6 had arrived.

The teacher was now yelling into the intercom, talking to the principal, telling to get the army on the phone, or at least the downtown police.

A few people who weren't screaming were taking pictures with their phones and filming the scene below.

Tom looked back down. He felt helpless, watching Alex subdue the man, and he also felt that the brief period of peace they'd been having was over.

Six agents dressed in street clothes were running across the lawn, grabbing the man by the arms, and another of them was stabbing a needle into the mans arm.

After a moment, he went limp.

Alex slept badly that night.

He had had to go to HQ, and writing a statement, and Mrs. Jones herself had come downstairs to talk to him.

Of course, the knowledge that several agencies all over the globe were now interested in him wasn't a surprise.

Typical, just after he'd been traumatized, tortured, and beaten, and then finally a period of peace something like this would happen.

He had had to sign a paper saying he wouldn't work for anyone except the British government, unless otherwise approved by Mrs. Jones.

Alex had fought it, but the truth was he knew too many secrets, and had done too many things.

He would be a valuable asset to other countries trying to overthrow the government, and they couldn't let him go. He would always be watched.

The worst part?

Apparently some students had filmed him fighting Monty, and had posted it on-line. A reporter had seen the video, and within hours the story was out : The British government had employed a boy, Alex Rider, as a spy.

Phone calls were pouring in from the entire country, and by noon tomorrow everyone would know Alex was a spy.

Alex was in his bed, his Ipod plugged in full blast in his ears, ignoring his adopted parents knocks on his door.

A agent had gone to his house and explained the entire thing, and then left about a hour ago after making sure the house was secure.

His parents had tried picking the lock, but Alex had installed a deadbolt a few weeks ago and they couldn't get through. About midnight they gave up and went to bed.

They were making him go to school tomorrow. Even though it wasn't safe, he was known there.

Tom had called him several times, but Alex had disconnected the phone line and deleted the call app from his Ipod Touch.

Alicia had been mainly quiet throughout the entire ordeal, and Alex was thankful to her for that.

She, unlike her parents, seemed to realized her didn't want to talk, he didn't want to tell them about his adventures, or about his parents and uncle.

The last words Alex heard his step-mom say before she went to bed were "You can tell me anything"

But he couldn't.

How was he supposed to delve back into the horror of it, the raw, emotional pain? Did they think that he didn't care?

That he didn't have feelings?

Alex rose late, after the rest of the family were at breakfast. He quickly pulled on a wrinkled uniform, but changed his mind and pulled on the ironed one his step mum had set out for him.

He spent hardly any time in front of the mirror except to note his baggy eyes, and to run a comb through his hair.

He grabbed his bag, he hadn't done his homework, but he'd make it up and was nearly out the door when his step father's cough made him freeze.

"Ahem."

Alex turned around, knowing he wasn't going to say anything. His step father was standing in the kitchen doorway with his arms folded across his chest.

"Yes?" Alex asked politely. He shut the door and waited.

"We need to talk." He said. Alex glared at him.

"I'm late. And there is nothing you need to know."

His step dad swelled with anger. He wasn't in a good mood on most days, and the news that his adopted son was a spy was crossing the line.

He also didn't like back talk, except for a polite "Yes Sir" or a "No, sir".

"There is a lot I bloody well need to know!"

His step dad took a step towards him. " Theres all these... People telling me you're a spy, then this business with the people outside, and your face on television!"

"What?" Alex said, staggered. He turned and wrenched open the front door, and cries of "There he is!" And "Alex, tell us how you feel about MI6 using you!"

Reporters.

At least a dozen of them were camped out on the front lawn, pressing microphones toward his face and yelling questions at him.

Alex decided he would rather face them then his step dad, so he shot out the door and past the reporters and away from his shouting stepfather, who was yelling at him to come back.

As soon as Alex was out of earshot of them, he turned around. The reporters were now shouting questions at his step dad, who was holding a phone and apparently calling the police.

He dreaded this day.