Target To Save

Chapter 1 Part 3

Halfway through the thirty minutes, a piece of paper landed on Ivalin's desk. Ivalin rolled her eyes, ducked her head, and kept on writing, trying to keep the distractions from her view. She didn't have time for humoring others, she was given a task.

Another piece of paper was slammed onto her desk, and Ivalin wrote her thesis. A third piece of paper landed. Then a fourth, then a fifth.

"Are you g-going to look?" The boy next to Ivalin whispered as he glared at the notes. His shoulders were slouched, already defeated.

Eyes sliding to the teacher, she shook her head and added to her outline.

The girl passing Ivalin the messages huffed, her jaw tensed, and she broke the tip of her pencil. The boy dropped his eyes, and he leaned away from the angry girl.

"Just answer it." He murmured, leaning closer. His eyes never left Ms. Inglertin. "He's not g-going to give up."

Ivalin sighed, and she reached for one of the discarded messages. "Who?"

"Scear: He/him." The boy's nose scrunched up, and he shifted in the seat."The P-President's son."

The haughty boy that dismissed Ivalin and teased Alex flashed in her mind. Rage curled in her stomach. "Scottsburrow?"

The boy nodded, and Ivalin turned the hastily written paper in her hands. She opened it up. The messy handwriting made Ivalin tsk, but she scanned the flirty words, her eyes quickly skipping over the honey and sweetie that poisoned the first two sentences. She bit her tongue, and didn't bother to finish it. Her eyes caught Scear's, and he winked. Ivalin pointedly ripped the paper, letting the pieces fall to her desk. He smirked, and she picked up the pencil, continuing to work.

Tilting her head, Ivalin searched through the case file in her mind.

Scear Scottsburrow: not a Scottsburrow, therefore not her target.

Ivalin pointedly ignored the agent that made grabs for attention, but every time Scear glanced at her, her hair raised and she fought back a snarl. In a world where assassins legally and not so legally danced in and out of shadows, no president would make the mistake of letting their own child take their last name: That was for agents willing to take the fall, and if he kept on getting onto Ivalin's nerves, she would make him fall. She took a deep breath, and tried to curb her anger.

Time continued to pass, and notes continued to fall on her desk, but Ivalin carried on and ignored them. Ms. Ingerlin stood up, her posture as straight as ever. "Class, pencils down. For the last thirty minutes we will have a discussion. Homework is the outline of your paper and your first paragraph. It's on the board."

She continued to talk, and Ivalin rested her chin on a hand. Her gaze swept the room, information sorting in her head.

"Ms. Vills." Her voice cut through Ivalin's idle mind. Ms. Inglertin raised an eyebrow, and Ivalin shifted to sit at attention, but her programming screamed at her, her mind whispered she was in trouble. She didn't meet Ms. Inglertin's eyes.

"Care to enlighten us about the best qualities of a good speech?"

Pausing, Ivalin's eyes fluttered to Scear and then back to Ms. Inglertin, and she straightened her back. "Confidence."

"Oh?" Ms Inglertin tilted her head, a smile dancing on her lips, her eyes searched the room until landing on the girl who had passed Ivalin the notes from Scear. "Do you agree, Ms. Everting?"

Everting shot a glare at Ivalin, but when she turned, she fluttered her long eyelashes, faux innocence staining her face. "Not at all, Ms. Inglertin. Truth. Anyone who speaks the truth will be listened to."