The school bell rang sharply, signaling the end of another class. Students flooded the hallways, their conversations buzzing with excitement as the midterm exams had finally come to an end. Mikey moved through the crowd like a ghost, his steps deliberate, his mind elsewhere. The mission still echoed in his thoughts, the weight of what he'd experienced lingering even as he walked among his classmates.
Mikey slipped into his usual seat in the cafeteria, tray in hand, scanning the room for his friends. They waved him over from the corner of the room. With a practiced smile, Mikey joined them, though his heart wasn't entirely in it. The thrill of the mission, the danger—it had all left him feeling disconnected from the routine of school life.
"Hey, Mikey!" called out Ryan, his best friend since grade school. "What's up with you, man? You've been quiet lately. Haven't seen you around much."
Mikey forced a small laugh, shrugging as he picked at his food. "Just been busy with stuff," he said vaguely. The truth, of course, was too complicated. Training, missions, the constant pressure of proving himself—it wasn't something he could explain.
"You aced the midterms, right?" asked Julie, one of his friends from his science class. "I mean, you've always been the quiet genius type. Bet you killed it."
Mikey managed a small smile. "Yeah, they went okay." In truth, he had barely had time to study between his training and the mission, but he had scraped by. His grades were the least of his worries now.
Ryan leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "Seriously, though. You've been acting... different. Distant. Is everything okay?"
Mikey felt the weight of Ryan's gaze, and for a moment, he considered telling the truth—or at least some version of it. But how could he explain that his weekends were now spent training for missions that could risk his life? That he had seen things that most of his classmates couldn't even imagine?
"I'm fine," Mikey said, his voice firmer than he intended. He didn't mean to shut them out, but keeping the secret had become second nature. "Just had a lot on my plate lately, that's all."
Julie, always the more intuitive one, gave him a knowing look. "You can talk to us, you know. If something's up."
Mikey nodded, though he couldn't meet her eyes. "Thanks, but it's nothing serious. Just... personal stuff."
The conversation shifted after that, moving to lighter topics—weekend plans, rumors about the upcoming school dance, and how terrible the cafeteria food was. But even as his friends laughed and joked, Mikey felt like an outsider, as if he were living in two different worlds. One part of him was still here in high school, trying to hold on to a semblance of normalcy. But the other part of him was already miles away, consumed by the life of an agent, with all its secrets and dangers.
---
The day dragged on, with each class feeling longer than the last. During history, Mikey found himself staring out the window, his thoughts drifting back to the mission. His hand absently traced the edge of his notebook, but he wasn't paying attention to the lesson.
How long could he keep this up?
Balancing school, training, and missions felt like trying to live two lives at once. He wondered how other agents managed it—if they had ever felt as torn as he did. His teachers, his classmates... none of them had any idea what he was really going through. And it wasn't like he could tell them. He had to keep the two worlds separate, no matter how difficult it became.
The bell rang, pulling Mikey from his thoughts. As the students packed up, Mr. Hall, his history teacher, called out, "Mikey, can I see you for a minute?"
Mikey hesitated, then nodded. He approached the teacher's desk as the rest of the class filtered out.
"Mikey, I've noticed you've been a bit... distracted lately," Mr. Hall said, his tone gentle. "Your grades are still good, but something seems off. Is everything okay?"
Mikey swallowed, offering a polite smile. "Yeah, just a lot going on, I guess."
Mr. Hall studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Well, if you ever need to talk, my door's always open."
"Thanks," Mikey muttered before turning to leave. He appreciated the concern, but it wasn't like talking would help. Not with something like this.
---
Later that afternoon, Mikey sat alone on the bleachers after school, watching the football team practice. The crisp autumn air carried the sound of their shouts and the thud of the ball being passed around. He used to enjoy moments like this—just hanging out, watching life go by. But now it all felt distant, like he was watching from behind a glass window.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts. It was a message from Gregor.
Training this weekend. Don't be late.
Mikey stared at the screen, the words sinking in. Training. More missions. More secrets. He should've felt excitement—this was what he had signed up for, after all. But instead, a wave of exhaustion washed over him. How long before the two parts of his life collided?
Just then, Ryan's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Hey! I thought I'd find you here."
Mikey turned to see Ryan jogging over, his football gear slung over his shoulder. He dropped down onto the bleacher beside Mikey, letting out a tired sigh.
"You alright, man?" Ryan asked, giving him a curious look. "You've been... off. More than usual."
Mikey shrugged, not sure how to respond. He wanted to tell Ryan everything—about the training, the missions, the dangerous world he'd been pulled into. But he couldn't. Not without putting his friend in danger too.
"Yeah, I'm good," Mikey said after a moment. "Just... dealing with some stuff. You know."
Ryan looked like he wanted to push for more, but he let it drop. "Well, if you need to blow off some steam, you should come to the game this weekend. We're playing against Westfield. Could use the support."
Mikey smiled faintly. "Maybe. We'll see."
As Ryan headed back to practice, Mikey sat there, watching him go. The two worlds he lived in—school and the secret life of an agent—felt like they were pulling him in opposite directions. How long could he keep up the charade?
---
That weekend, Mikey found himself standing in front of the mirror, just like he had before every mission. Except this time, it wasn't excitement he felt—it was the crushing weight of the double life he was now living.
Training was in a few hours. He would be ready. But even as he prepared, a part of him couldn't help but wonder how long he could keep pretending that everything was normal.
How long could he keep pretending he was just a regular high school kid?