Punk. That was my cover. You know my type: Spiky black hair, larger than I need sizes. Black is the new black, I'd say. But as Mr. Solomon and the others stared at me, I felt like blurting out every single thing I've been through. I felt like telling them, "This is not who I really am."

I felt like saying, "This is not who I want to be."

The trees pass by quickly. There are 29 on this block and as we pass the next, I count 10. I am sitting beside the window in a black limo. The windows are tinted from the outside so no one can see me. I am the only one in the back seat. The only other person in the car is the driver. There is a screen in the middle of us. He doesn't open it to talk.

We've been driving for three hours so far. From 10 o'clock to 1 o'clock at night. My internal clock is reminding me the seconds that pass. I do not go to sleep.

We pass town after town. I stare out the window and count.

Things I pass on a single block:

5 lampposts

9 houses

1 mini playground

3 gardens

It's a never-ending game I play until I reach the school. I'm sure that I wouldn't even stop at the school.

Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Ladies and Gentlemen.

I feel like barfing when the name is mentioned.

It sounds like a school for rich snobs. I bet that that's their cover.

Hidden in Roseville, Virginia is a school for spies.

But, of course, I'm not supposed to know that. Yet.

I don't move my eyes away from the window. From the moment I've gotten into this car and inspected it, my eyes have been glued to the window. Like the window is a magnet and my eyes are the iron.

I'm not bored in the slightest. My life is a game to some people. I die, they win. I live, they lose. That's why I'm always on my toes.

My bag is on my lap and my suitcase is by my feet. I've insisted that I keep my luggage near me. They were suspicious at first, but when they figured out that there couldn't be a bomb in my bag, due to the fact that I don't want to kill myself and they think of me as a mere civilian, they let it go.

If only they knew the truth.

xXNothing But The TruthXx

The limo pulls up in front of the school an hour and 32 minutes later. It's still dark and my internal clock blinks 2:32.

I don't say a word as I swing my bag over my shoulder, open the door and step out of the limo with my black suitcase in my hand. I'm dragging it behind me. It makes a banging noise as it hits each step I drag it on. The noise sounds loud in the darkness of the night.

When I finally make it to the top of the steps, there is a person waiting for me.

I feel numb when I look at him.

His name is Joe Solomon. But, of course, I'm not supposed to know that. Yet.

He greets me with a simple, small head nod which I do not reply. He turns around and enters the school, knowing that I will follow him. I do.

Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Ladies and Gentlemen has the same amount of grand on the inside than on the outside.

The walls are decorated with certificates and school pictures and medals that the students have won. There is a statue of the schools' founder in the foyer. It looks harmless. I know the truth.

He leads me through ten corridors. I scan everything I pass and put it into memory.

I don't let my hands touch anything.

Mr. Solomon doesn't look back but from the racket that my suitcase makes on the tile floor, he knows I am following him.

Finally, we reach a door. Mr. Solomon opens it with a key and walks in. I trail in behind him.

The room is large with a desk in the corner, a couch, and a coffee table.

Number of air vents: 3

Number of certificates on the wall: 7

Number of fake certificates on the wall: 7

Number of plants in the room: 3

Number of fake plants in the room: 2

I sit down on the couch and face Mr. Solomon. He is sitting on a black leather chair behind his desk, which is bare.

We eye each other for 24 seconds. Finally, he breaks the silence.

"Are you Cameron Carter?" He asks.

I've changed my real last name to my foster last name. On the CIA database and any other huge or small organization, I am Cameron Carter.

"Yes," I lie.

I don't consider Carter to be my real last name.

Mr. Solomon nods. I expect him to. My lies are a thing to admire. No one knows when I lie. No one knows when I tell the truth.

"You are sixteen, correct?" he asks.

I nod.

"Welcome to Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Ladies and Gentlemen, Cameron." He says.

I nod and inspect my finger nails. My cover for this school is to be a total rebel; A bitch at heart.

There's a knock on the door and six people barge in.

One is a dark-skinned girl who is beautiful in an exotic way.

Another is a black-haired beauty wearing a silk sleeping gown. I mark her down as the senators' daughter.

The third girl is small and pixie pretty. She looks around the room as if calculating a math problem.

The other three people are boys. The first one I see looks like a resemblance to Brad Pit. He has muscular forearms and a pretty face. He looks intimidating but I am not afraid.

The next boy is small and geeky looking. His black hair is in a rumpled mess and he seems to think of this whole situation as a math problem.

The last boy I see is Zachery Goode. I know that because his face is in almost every magazine I read. He is America's singer; Young with age and hot at face. I mark him as cocky.

"Where is Anna?" Mr. Solomon asks then.

"She looked tired so we let her sleep," The senators' daughter replies.

Mr. Solomon nods.

"What did you call us here for?" The Brad Pitts' body double asks.

Mr. Solomon looks to me. The rest follow his gaze.

"Oh," The Pixie girl says.

"Hello," The dark-skinned girl says, trying to be polite.

I don't reply.

"Have you told her yet?" Zachery Goode asks.

Mr. Solomon shakes his head. Zachery smirks.

Finally, I nod to the dark-skinned girl, making her know that I've acknowledged her.

"Tell me what?" I ask Mr. Solomon, leveling my gaze to his eyes.

He presses a red button on his desk. Suddenly, his room had made a whole transformation. I made my face look blank for the time. Finally, things stopped moving and the slight rumbling in the ground stopped.

Mr. Solomon and the others stared at me, looking for an emotion. Shock, perhaps. They got nothing.

I keep my face as smooth as marble as I look around the room again. Instead of certificates, there are swords and daggers that line the wall. Instead of the fake plants, there are holes in the ground. I suspect that one leads to the kitchen. The only thing that stays the same in the room is the air vents. There are still three.

"Cameron, this is a school for spies," Mr. Solomon says.

I nod, and turn to ask him a question. I see the pixie girl look relieved that I finally am deciding to talk.

"So, how does this school work?" I ask.

I see Zachery open his mouth to talk but words spill out of my mouth before he could blink.

"I mean, do u still have the popular bitches and the Make-up, Fake-up clan? Or is the geek club more popular?" I say, eyeing the boy with the ruffled black hair.

They stare at me. The pixie girls' face is gone with any trace of relief that it held before.

The Senators' daughter spoke first, "I'm Macey McHenry. I think we'll get along fine."

I make my face blank. There is an awkward silence that hangs in the air.

"Or, maybe not," Macey says in a quiet voice, not meant for me to hear. I do, anyways.

"Why don't you introduce yourselves," Mr. Solomon says, shooting a glance at Macey. He heard what she said, too.

"I'll go first," He says. "My name is Joe Solomon."

"I'm Bex," The dark-skinned girl says.

"Liz," The pixie looking girl adds.

"Grant," Says the Brad Pitt body double.

"I'm Jonas," Says the geeky looking boy.

Zachery only winks. I think he expects me to blush. I don't.

"Cameron Carter," I say in monotone.

"Well, do you want us to call you a nickname or something? Cameron is sort of a mouthful." Grant says.

"No," I say. "If you can't call me Cameron, don't call me at all."

Nicknames remind me of when Aunt Abby was alive. I don't like nicknames anymore.

"Let's get down to business," Mr. Solomon finally says, "I've called you six to help Cameron get to class, help her with her homework and other spy related stuff, understood?"

Jonas yawns, Zachary smirks and the others nod, none too happy about the arrangement.

"Cameron, you will sleep in single dorm due to the fact that all the others are currently full. You will also start your studies with the kids under your grade, due to the fact that you are a late starter."

I nod and he hands me my class schedule. I take it without looking at it.

I hacked in to the school's information account on the internet before I came. I know my classes memorized.

I get up and dust off my clothes.

"Please lead me to my room," I say quietly to Liz; so quiet that the others probably didn't hear me.

Liz's eyes widen but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she just turns around and leads the way.

I trail behind, with my luggage trailing noisily behind me.

A/N good or bad? Comment your thoughts on this chapter in the review box please! And a shout out to those who've followed and reviewed and done anything else to promote this story!