There are usually two types of killers.

First, there's the type to murder in cold blood and find it as a way of life. You could probably hear that jackass saying "He was going to die eventually."

Then, there's the second type—the type to kill to save the innocent and still feel guilty that he took a life.

I hope we both see which one's better.

It's Monday today and I've never felt so connected to the world. Since the piano, I've felt different.

"Ms. Carter, who do you think you are, daydreaming in this class and whatnot," the twelfth grade English teacher demanded, her pointer stick slamming down against my desk. Yes, twelfth grade English was taught to 14-15 graders in spy school. And yes, not all our classes are about kicking butt. And, yea, she used a pointer stick.

I contemplate on what I should say, finally settling with, "Ms. Umbridge—"I'm serious, that's her name. I wouldn't really be surprised if she was the Dolores Umbridge from the Harry Potter series—"who do you think you are, assuming things. I'm offended," ending with a straight face.

Ms. Umbridge shot me a glare. "One more step out of line and it'll be straight to the Headmasters office for you," she threatened.

"Teachers these days," I mumble whilst rolling my eyes. Adding with a raise of volume, I say, "As a matter of fact, Mr. Solomon and I are getting fully acquainted, ya know, if you take in the fact that I get sent there more times than class."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Well, I'm not the imbecile giving myself the detention slip so…"

Needless to say, I got sent out.

CoveOps is what a normal person would tittle as 'Gym on Steroids'. Six mile runs are what we categorise as warm-ups and being fit is not a need, it's a must. Maybe that's why almost everyone in this school looks like models.

Anyway, CoveOps was once a day for two and half hours. You are timed and expected to do better the next day. You are taught how to shoot a gun, make a knife, punch hard enough to break a nose, dislocate a shoulder and much, much more. CoveOps was also about my specialty: being a wallflower. It was a specialty that was held with utmost respect because, of course, a killer that you didn't see coming is the best killer of all.

XxNothingButTheTruthxX

Mr. Solomon gave me a withering look and decided to let me watch instead of participating. I didn't object but once he turned I half-heartedly flipped him the bird.

After muttering a selected choice of words in Farsi under my breath, I decided to observe and find the Achilles heel of every one of my classmates. Their weaknesses were easy to find and point out but their Achilles heel was much harder. Sitting on the bench for two hours straight though, gave me more than enough time.

"CoveOps group!" Mr. Solomon called from across the yard, "Ms. Carter! Round up!"

I don't like how he excluded me when calling the class in but I grudgingly made my way to the circle of sweaty, panting kids.

"Ms. Carter, step up."

The kids moved back to make a large circle and watched with curious eyes. I stepped into the circle.

"Ms. Jones, into the circle," Mr. Solomon said.

Ms. Jones obeyed the orders and stepped in. The circle of kids moves outwards a little more. Ms. Jones A.K.A Maria was big. She was made of muscular, acne, stringy hair and an angry scowl. She stood on the balls of her feet and, due to the extra muscle on her right arm than the left; it was obvious favours her right.

"You two," Mr. Solomon says, "Will fight until one combatant hits the floor and remains there for four seconds. Questions, anyone?"

I raise my hand in the air. "Yes, Ms. Carter?"

"What do you get when you win?" I ask.

"You'll find out if you win," he replies, meaning I wouldn't find out at all. "Anyone else?" He was met with silence.

"Okay, on the count of three," Mr. Solomon starts, "One."

Maria smirks and gets into place.

"Two."

She looks at me with a sneer that I know I can wipe off her face. I know I shouldn't fight because if I do, it'll blow my cover at worst but if she swings first I know I'll end up winning in ten seconds or less.

"Three, go."

So I take the first swing, right where she can take me down, but she doesn't. Instead she rolls to the floor and tries to grip my leg and yank me down, which is extremely stupid (since I can kick her in the face and leave her an eye so black, people will be questioning if they're seeing her soul instead) but I let her anyway. I was feeling generous so I didn't kick her in the face after all.

The fight was done in less than twenty seconds and ends with my face on the floor.

Mr. Solomon didn't even bother to congratulate Maria. Instead he glares at me. I pretend to be busy dusting off my dark attire instead of meeting his glare with an even fiercer one. I casually start to make my way out of the crowd when Mr. Solomon's sharp voice made me freeze in place.

"Ms. Jones please leave the inner circle," he orders. Maria scowls but relents and makes her way to her friends who clap her on the back and congratulate her with smug looks on their faces. "Ms. Carter please refrain from leaving the circle. You will now be versing Mr. Rogers."

"But I lost!" I protest.

"And that is precisely why you need to go again."

I grit my teeth and scowl. My opponent has big, bulging muscles, is the definition of beefy and towers over me so much so that he creates a shadow that covers me whole. What the hell are they feeding kids these days?

"And Ms. Carter?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Try this time."

I try not to turn bone white at his statement and face Mr. Rogers. He gave me an once-over accompanied by a glare.

"Hey, bitc—"

"You better not finish that sentence," I warn the human tower.

"And why the hell not? Whatcha gonna do, little girl?"

I stay silent but send him a mischievous look.

"Does the little girl have nothing to say?" he fakes a pout.

"Come at me," I snarl.

And he does. For about ten minutes where I successfully dodge all his punches and moves. He turns angry. Angry enough that when Mr. Solomon starts counting down from ten seconds his face turns as red neon red can get and he runs at me, resembling a very angry bull.

I slide out-of-the-way at the last second and he trips over the foot I've put out. He sprawls to the floor and lays there in defeat, taking a much-needed deep breath. Gosh, where'd this kids stamina go?

Class is up and most of the students run to the door, not sparing me a second glance or praise. Good. If I didn't punch and let the fight stretch on, people became uninterested in the fight and more importantly, in me.

But then a group of four come and praise me on my quick dodges. The three boys give me a thumb up and clap me on the back before they leave but the girl stays and asks me questions.

"I heard about you. You're the new girl, right? Well, anyway, you were awesome dodging him and such. You have great agility and speed and you didn't even get a single scratch. I probably have the agility and speed of a walrus. A walrus I'm telling' you! And isn't this, like, the first class you actually participated in? And it's your first year and time too. I'm usually really shy but I feel like I can talk to you. You just have that vibe, ya know? So cool. And I'm not just saying that. You have mad skill. Did you join any teams back home? I bet you joined all of 'em at one point. Didn't ya?"

I nod, wary of the girl who didn't have a mute button. Walrus? Teams? I have an open vibe? Since freakin' when?

"My name's Anna Fetterman, by the way."

I nod. And nod and nod. Maybe that way she'll get the hell away from me. I'm not here to make friends.

"Well, anyway, let's talk later. Maybe at the movie night the girls are having tonight. Yea, I'll see you there! You just have to tell me about those sports you played." She leaves with a smile on her face.

I look around the room if I forgot something (which is highly unlikely) but instead I see Mr. Solomon staring at me with a calculating expression. I quickly turn back around and casually jog to the door whilst anything but casual.

He knows I've never joined a sports team in my life.

I push open the huge metal doors and they slam behind me with as much force I used to open it. According to the bang, it was a lot of force.

Mr. Solomon is a trained spy. He knows that I wasn't trying the first time and that I've never played a mundane sport in my life, unless necessary. Being the Headmaster, he has probably looked through my file and did an intense background check on me. More than once.

I lean against the old brick wall, out of sight to spy pupils and take a gulp of fresh air.

I knew I shouldn't have winked at him.

Mr. Solomon was suspicious.

And that itself can almost blow my cover.

U GUUUUUUUYS! 1, 655 WORDS NOT INCLUDING THIS A/N! I'M SO PROUD! AND I'M PRETTY SURE THE NEXT CHAPTER IS GOING TO BE THIS LONG TOO! AAAAAAAND WE REACHED 80 COMMENTS. I've actually been waiting for the 80th comment so I could post this cuz I'm rooting for 90. So ta-da!

I've meant to say this in the last chapter but it slipped my mind—when you guys reviewed the random things about urself, 95 % of u we're so awkward it was cute :D you were all like "umm, I dunno." But really you could've just reviewed what ur fave color was. I'm cool with something like that. (I'm feeling rambley so this a/n might be long). I HOPE I DIDN'T OFFEND ANY OF U'S!

The next chapter I'm gonna post is making me feel unsure. You see, I have two other things going' on. ( a little of three) I got the Liz thing. The piano stuff and a lil of the CoveOps. WAIT! I GOT IT! OMG I WROTE A WHOLE BUNCH OF STUFF DOWN JUST NOW IN MY DRAFTS. Huh, so writing does help you get your thoughts together after all.

Random Fact: Honestly, I've always wanted to meet new people. I've always wanted to make more and more friends. Because it's like a new beginning with them. They don't know any or ur past and vice versa. I looooove making new friends. It's purely amazing to me.

OMG AND ONE MORE THING BEFORE I DO MY BUISSNESS AND STOP HOLDING IT IN (TMI, I KNOW):

Me and my bff had a insta-msg today.(imma use the word bff instead of her name) It went like this:

Me: OMG BFF, I HAVE AN OUTIE BELLY BUTTON!

Bff: yea, I already know….

Me: OH MY FREAKING GOSH U ALREADY KNEW! I THOUGHT I HAD AN INNIE ALL MY LIFE! IM SERIOUS!

Bff: lmao, lololololololololol.

Me: DUDE, MY COUSIN AND SIS HAVE INNIES AND I'VE BEEN LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR SOMEONE WHO HAS AN OUTIE! I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING! STOP LAUGHING! I'VE LOOKED EVERYWHERE AND ALL ALONG I'VE HAD ONE AND U DIDN'T EVEN HAVE THE DESENCY TO TELL ME! MY WHOLE LIFE IS A LIEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Bff: rofl, ur killing me!

Me: … … … Time of death: _

Bff: omigosh! Where am I gonna find another bff! Omg don't leaaaaaaaaaaaave meeeeeee!

Me: Ur new bff is in a tree

Bff: what?

Me: ur new bff. She's prob in a tree. Reading. Go look for her.

Bff: my new bff is in a tree reading? But that's where I found u.

Me: ironic isn't it. Now go find her and make sure you tell her what kind of belly button she has before she dies a gruesome death like moi.

THE END (of the script)

If you've read through the outrageously long a/n and script. U deserve an internet cookie. So go get one Cuz I'm all out

Ps, Dear Guest Reviewers. If/ when you comment please leave a fake name of something so I can get back to you on the a/n's

This is May, signing out