Abigail M. Schilling

Heather Anne and I are writing a story. You can see the first part here.

PART TWO

Anyway, that's how I ended up sitting in this car outside Waterstone's with the greenest rookie you have ever met in your life. Kid will never make it to Espionage. I don't know why a recruiter even approached him. We're supposed to keep an eye on a guy called Victor Ignatius Agra -- an ugly mug who's apparently been spamming up the Internet from different Waterstone's IP addresses. If there's one thing ninjas can't stand it's spam.

Rookie over there brought about six pair of binoculars and a whole damn bag of jelly doughnuts. Jelly doughnuts, I might add, that his mum packed for him.

"There he is!" The rookie says. And sure enough I see V.I. Agra walking out of Waterstone's with a laptop bag.

He looks like he's going to catch a bus. But he passes right by the bus stop. He crosses the road. He's looking right at us.

"Shit!" I say to the rookie. "Drive. Drive."

But the rookie has frozen, of course he has. And the only thing that makes him look stupider than me is that he's got a jelly doughnut jammed into his mouth. And V.I. Agra staring and Rookie's staring back at him and I've got to make a decision quick. Fleeing the scene (on foot) is both stupid and lame. There is a chance I haven't been IDed yet since Agra's on Rookie's side of the car. And so, with my mind focused on Espionage, I pulled Rookie into a kiss. A sticky, jelly doughnut kiss.

My life is such a cliche. Agra moves on; apparently, the wanker has some sense to let romance lie. When he's out of sight, I push Rookie off me and prepare to yell.

Lucky for him, my mobile rings. It's my dad. I swear that man knows exactly when I'm up to no good. He always calls during missions, and every single time I'm making out with a snot-nosed, jelly-doughnut-eating, mission-blowing, scared-ass ninja wannabes. (No, this isn't my first time.)

"Anne Marie?" he says, before I can even offer a greeting.

"Hi, Dad," I reply, still glaring at the rookie with my most menacing eyes.

"What are you doing?" my dad asks.

"I'm at the bookstore," I tell him, which is sort of the truth.

"What book are you looking at?"

"Uh..." My dad has read every book in the Edinburgh public library. "Cold Comfort Farm."

"And what do you think of it?"

"Well... pigs walking on two feet, bossing around the other animals...I like it."

"That's Animal Farm," he says.

"Look, Dad," I say. "I've gotta go. I'll call you tonight."

I shut off my mobile and look over at the rookie. He's smiling a big, stupid, rookie-shaped grin. "You wanna go out sometime?" he asks through the jelly doughnut that is still wedged into his mouth.

I roll my eyes. It's times like these I wish I was a pirate. I'd feed this kid to the alligators.