Spy School: Already Solved

Prologue

L/N Residence

Vienne, Virginia

January 16

0730 hours

  You were awoken by the 'gentle' nudging of your mother, who had a worried expression on her face. "Honey, I know you're upset about his death, but you have to get up... the funeral is in 30 minutes." 

  Who's death...?  You thought to yourself, unsure of what exactly was happening. You didn't remember anybody close to you dying, nor were you holing yourself up for any reason. 

  Your mother pulled the sheets off of you, revealing  your 16 year old body in all it's glory. And no, it wasn't anything special. And NO, you had underwear on... so your mother saw nothing. "Just be ready in 10 minutes, okay? We have to leave soon."

  As she walked out of your room, you decided not to anger your mom. Even if you had no idea who died, it would be pretty terrible of you as a person to just ignore someone's death. Especially if they were somehow important to your mother (and you?).

  You hop out of bed, and head over to your dresser. On it was a picture of you, your older sister, and two guys you'd never seen before. They seemed to be younger than you, about middle school age. "Do I have amnesia or something...?" You rub your head, confused. 

  Despite all of this, you still put on a white t-shirt, a dark gray trench coat because it's cold, and some black jeans. You fix your brown hair a little bit, which consisted of running your hands through it chaotically. Somehow it turned out alright?

  After brushing your teeth, and having a light breakfast you slide some socks on and run out the front door; slipping your ankle boots on in one swift motion. 

  It was cold out, and it was snowing lightly. You could see each and every breath you took, which used to mesmerize you as a kid. Because of migration, you couldn't hear any birds... only the sound of the car engine, and what sounded like faint sniffling. It was cloudy as can be, only making the day seem more gloomy than it already was. 

  "Where's Liz and Dad?" You ask, noticing that your dad's car was already gone. 

  "They left early, they needed to help set up." When she had said this, you noticed her 'deftly' hiding the tissue she had in her hand... stuffing it into the glove box.

  Damn... this is hitting her hard. Meanwhile I don't even know who died. While you were busy figuring out who had died, and why you didn't know, you sat down on the passenger seat.

  "I know this must be hard for you, but thank you for being strong enough to come for his funeral." She just kept making you feel worse by the second. You just nodded, hoping it seemed like you were upset too. "I'm glad Mike has such a great kid to look up to."

  Your mom was always used to coping by distracting herself with the positives. This just confirmed that she was really hurt by whoever died. However, you were more concerned about who Mike was. You assumed he was one of the kid's in the photo, and also figured that one of the kid's in the photo was the one who died.

Most of the drive consisted of you trying to subtly find out who Mike was, and who the kid who died was. It turned out that the picture you had on your dresser was also stored on your phone, which you kept examining. It looked like you all had gone to Disney Land, or Disney World, based off of the background. The bigger of the two kids seemed more like a Mike than the scrawny one.

  Your sister was ruffling the littler one's hair, meanwhile you and Mike were making silly faces. Wait, that was the wrong picture. You swipe back to the original one, which was less silly and more: 'my mom wants us to take at least one normal picture.' 

  Pretending that you're trying to reminisce, you show the picture to your mom. "Aww... Ben looked so adorable in that picture! How long ago was that...? 2, 4 years ago?"

  "3," you reply. By now you had a good idea who the kid's names were. But something just felt off, really off.

  For the rest of the drive, you decided it best not to pry. Being at the funeral would give you enough answers, hopefully. 

  By the time you had arrived at the funeral home, the parking lot was already packed. Luckily, your sister had succeeded where your dad hadn't, and saved you seats. "You brough your paper, right?" 

  You almost vomited right then and there. Every minute this day went on, your situation was getting worse and worse. First, you didn't know who died, nor do you now. You have no recollection of Ben or Mike. And now you were supposed to give a speech!? 

  However, when you checked your pocket, there was indeed a slip of paper. On it... was the words: 'You know what you want to say.' 

  Like hell I do! You thought. You crumpled the paper when your mom wasn't looking, and put it back in your trench coat pocket. "Yeah, I've got it." 

  Once you and your mother came in, you immediately could tell who Ben's parents were. Mostly because they were sitting up front, and also because they looked the most devastated out of everyone. Save for the kid who was sitting on the chair right next to the front door.

  The moment he looked up, you could see tears forming in his eyes. "Hey, Mike..." 

  "Hey, Y/N..," he replied right back to you. "My parent's couldn't make it, so your sister picked me up." 

  "Glad you could make it."  You bump his shoulder slightly. 

  "I wouldn't miss Ben's funeral. No way in hell..." He sighed when he said this, looking down at his shoes. He coughs, as if he was composing himself. "You better not make him look bad during your speech."

  The first step would be to remember what he was like... you thought, clenching the useless paper. "I wouldn't dare."

  You and your mother had arrived a few minutes before the ceremony had started, so you quickly rushed to your seats; Mike trailing behind you. You sat down next to your dad, with Mike next to you. You assumed he was close with both you and Liz, because he was sitting in between the two of you.

  Standing on the platform was a man who looked to be in his early 50's, except with extra wrinkles. He'd obviously been stressed out by too many funerals in his life. "Thank you for gathering here on this... not so joyful day. And thank you, for coming to commemorate the life of Benjamin Ripley."