I'm 13. And unless I'm a spoiled rich kid, then I probably don't own Alias.
I like reviews, and remember, be nice. Niceness makes the world go happy.
Lalalala.
Chapter Seventeen: Back to School
I awoke up and climbed off the couch. I stretched. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Mom and Dad's house. Oh, I grabbed a pair of bleached jeans and a three- quarter's length gray shirt. I put them on and saw that it was 8:00. Yikes!
I had only thirty minutes to go to school. I threw a bagel in the toaster and poured a glass of milk. I put on my shoes and drank the milk. I then scooped my hair into a clip up high. I grabbed the bagels, hopped in my car and drove to school, all while eating the bagels.
I ran into the playground and ran into a girl with light brown hair in two pigtails with pink ties. She was wearing a blue dress with white sleeves and a pink bow. She had huge glasses on her face and was carrying a lot of books.
Nerdy Girl: Oh, I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking.
I interrupted her. I also helped her pick up her books.
Me: It's okay. It was my fault. I was in a hurry. And it's my second day here. I'm Soleil, what's your name?
Nerdy Girl: Gretchen Grundler. I'm in Ms. Grotke's class. We got substitutes yesterday who argued a lot. So, we locked them in the old Janitor's Closet.
I laughed.
Me: I was one of those teachers. The girl. Me and Matt have some.issues.
Gretchen: Oh.
The bell rung. We ran.
Me: Nice to meet you.
Gretchen: You too.
I walked into the classroom. Vaughn was already there. He always did like to be early.
Vaughn: Hey, Sol.
I smiled, half-heartedly. He wouldn't know the difference.
Me: Hey.
I turned to our class. They were yelling, screaming, and throwing things.
Me: Class, simmer down now! Stop chucking things, and BE QUIET!
The class became quiet.
Me: Good.
I paused. What to teach? Their teacher hadn't left any lesson plans. I might as well ask.
Me: Class, what do you want to learn?
A buzz filled the room and all 20 fourth graders raised their hands.
Me: Yes, TJ. What is your suggestion?
TJ: I say we have recess.
Me: TJ, I don't think that would be quite appropriate. You HAVE to learn something. Really. Spinelli, your turn.
Spinelli: I say we learn how to fight.
I laughed.
Me: Well, I could teach you that. Any other suggestions? Yes, you with the red hair and blue shirt.
The kid I pointed to had a hunch, red hair, and was wearing a blue shirt and brown pants.
Hunchback: I'm Randall. I say that we learn about spying and the history of spying.
I giggled. Everyone looked at me strange.
Me: Randall, I believe that the correct term would be espionage. And won't that go perfectly with the fighting.
I laughed again.
Me: Now I know how Dad felt with the whole Project: Christmas thing. Teaching children to be spies.
Everyone looked at me, again confused.
Me: Do you all want to be spies or something?
I swear, every kid in there nodded. I sighed.
Me: Well, if you want to be spies, I'm gonna have to check out some books, get a first aid kit, and move some desks.
They all nodded enthusiastically. I did as I said.
Me: Do you want to hear a story?
They all nodded and sat on the floor around me.
Me: Okay, once upon a time there was an evil organization. It pretended that it worked for the USA but it really was a terrorist group, and not al- Queda. They were lying to all the people they hired, telling them that it was the CIA.
I paused.
Me: Anyways, a girl worked for them. She had worked for them for seven years. She thought that she was working for the good guys. She had a friend. She told this friend that she worked for the government, if you told anyone that you worked for the government, you and the person could be killed.
I sighed.
Me: But, anyways, she told this friend. The friend had left a message on her machine indicating what he knew. Anyways, someone who worked for her boss killed him. Her dad found her and told her the truth. She had quit at her job and the boss had sent men out to kill her. Her dad had saved her and she had to go on a mission to regain her boss's trust.
I rubbed my head. Too many bad memories.
Me: She completed the mission, with the expense of a few teeth. She went back home. She then walked into the real CIA. Her supposed contact was in a meeting and only one guy was on duty. So, this one guy took her statement. She wrote furiously.
I paused. This was painful.
Me: Anyways, the girl looked like a mess. She had messed up bozo red hair, fire in her eyes, was filthy, and was wearing a cat suit. The guy she met became her handler and she became a double agent with her father. She found out many painful truths, went on many missions, and was miserable. So here's your lesson, don't become a spy. Any questions?
TO BE CONTINUED...
- Loren ;*
Chapter Seventeen: Back to School
I awoke up and climbed off the couch. I stretched. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Mom and Dad's house. Oh, I grabbed a pair of bleached jeans and a three- quarter's length gray shirt. I put them on and saw that it was 8:00. Yikes!
I had only thirty minutes to go to school. I threw a bagel in the toaster and poured a glass of milk. I put on my shoes and drank the milk. I then scooped my hair into a clip up high. I grabbed the bagels, hopped in my car and drove to school, all while eating the bagels.
I ran into the playground and ran into a girl with light brown hair in two pigtails with pink ties. She was wearing a blue dress with white sleeves and a pink bow. She had huge glasses on her face and was carrying a lot of books.
Nerdy Girl: Oh, I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking.
I interrupted her. I also helped her pick up her books.
Me: It's okay. It was my fault. I was in a hurry. And it's my second day here. I'm Soleil, what's your name?
Nerdy Girl: Gretchen Grundler. I'm in Ms. Grotke's class. We got substitutes yesterday who argued a lot. So, we locked them in the old Janitor's Closet.
I laughed.
Me: I was one of those teachers. The girl. Me and Matt have some.issues.
Gretchen: Oh.
The bell rung. We ran.
Me: Nice to meet you.
Gretchen: You too.
I walked into the classroom. Vaughn was already there. He always did like to be early.
Vaughn: Hey, Sol.
I smiled, half-heartedly. He wouldn't know the difference.
Me: Hey.
I turned to our class. They were yelling, screaming, and throwing things.
Me: Class, simmer down now! Stop chucking things, and BE QUIET!
The class became quiet.
Me: Good.
I paused. What to teach? Their teacher hadn't left any lesson plans. I might as well ask.
Me: Class, what do you want to learn?
A buzz filled the room and all 20 fourth graders raised their hands.
Me: Yes, TJ. What is your suggestion?
TJ: I say we have recess.
Me: TJ, I don't think that would be quite appropriate. You HAVE to learn something. Really. Spinelli, your turn.
Spinelli: I say we learn how to fight.
I laughed.
Me: Well, I could teach you that. Any other suggestions? Yes, you with the red hair and blue shirt.
The kid I pointed to had a hunch, red hair, and was wearing a blue shirt and brown pants.
Hunchback: I'm Randall. I say that we learn about spying and the history of spying.
I giggled. Everyone looked at me strange.
Me: Randall, I believe that the correct term would be espionage. And won't that go perfectly with the fighting.
I laughed again.
Me: Now I know how Dad felt with the whole Project: Christmas thing. Teaching children to be spies.
Everyone looked at me, again confused.
Me: Do you all want to be spies or something?
I swear, every kid in there nodded. I sighed.
Me: Well, if you want to be spies, I'm gonna have to check out some books, get a first aid kit, and move some desks.
They all nodded enthusiastically. I did as I said.
Me: Do you want to hear a story?
They all nodded and sat on the floor around me.
Me: Okay, once upon a time there was an evil organization. It pretended that it worked for the USA but it really was a terrorist group, and not al- Queda. They were lying to all the people they hired, telling them that it was the CIA.
I paused.
Me: Anyways, a girl worked for them. She had worked for them for seven years. She thought that she was working for the good guys. She had a friend. She told this friend that she worked for the government, if you told anyone that you worked for the government, you and the person could be killed.
I sighed.
Me: But, anyways, she told this friend. The friend had left a message on her machine indicating what he knew. Anyways, someone who worked for her boss killed him. Her dad found her and told her the truth. She had quit at her job and the boss had sent men out to kill her. Her dad had saved her and she had to go on a mission to regain her boss's trust.
I rubbed my head. Too many bad memories.
Me: She completed the mission, with the expense of a few teeth. She went back home. She then walked into the real CIA. Her supposed contact was in a meeting and only one guy was on duty. So, this one guy took her statement. She wrote furiously.
I paused. This was painful.
Me: Anyways, the girl looked like a mess. She had messed up bozo red hair, fire in her eyes, was filthy, and was wearing a cat suit. The guy she met became her handler and she became a double agent with her father. She found out many painful truths, went on many missions, and was miserable. So here's your lesson, don't become a spy. Any questions?
TO BE CONTINUED...
- Loren ;*