The Hijinks War

19. Purple Axle Kilimanjaro Wine

Hanging from the side of a building was never one of my favorite activities. Maybe I was weird, but I simply wasn't particularly fond of the fact that my life was quite literally in the hands of a fellow student. Less fond even, when it wasn't necessary and was because of a stupid game. Then again, my newfound reputation as the captain of the best squad was on the line.

It was rare that our scores were based on anything but the pranks, but once every year the Elite combined forces for the The Spy Games. It was our own form of Olympics in which squad crews signed up to battle it out for the title of best all rounders. Dramatic as it sounded, it would earn the winning side a lot of points, so we took it quite seriously. 

Last year, I was simply a private on one of the Thunderbirds' stealth crews; this year, I intended to win it with my Aces.

Tasks were simple in theory; sneak up on someone, take a flag without being noticed, break a coded message, intercept information. But because our targets—members of the Elite and the previous year's winning crew—knew we were coming, we had to be extra light on our feet, faster than the other crews, and super creative in our methods. 

Right now, Rebecca and myself, as well as two Hellhound sophomores who'd decided to follow us, were scaling the northernmost wall of the Academy. We dangled just above the teacher's offices.

So much for the Trifecta and Triad being determined to keep Hijinks under Headmaster Corbis' radar. How were we supposed to do that when, they'd decided to stage the last and final game—recon—in the teachers' wing, in plain sight of their residences. Any of the multiple crews that had survived the previous rounds, now had to duck Corbis, the teachers, and the group of Elite that were guarding the school newspaper office. 

January, at least, gave us the advantage of cold weather and closed windows, so the Aces chose this route over chancing it inside. I was especially glad for that decision when Mr. Avery, the math head, burst out of the building dragging several Thunderbirds out of the offices spouting suspensions for sneaking around a teacher's office. I prayed he wouldn't look up; I couldn't even imagine his reaction then. It was embarrassing enough he'd caught the stealth squad of all groups, but to catch us too? We'd never live it down.

When he was out of sight, we dropped lower on our lines and flattened ourselves against the wall on either side of the newspaper office window. Rebecca pressed a little device to the corner of the frame, and I hoped that the information would come soon so we could get moving.

I looked at the Hellhounds, one story above us, and not exactly the subtlest of elephants. If we got caught, we would forfeit this round—or worse, out the whole game to the teaching staff—even if it was because of those clumsy oafs. I needed to do something about them.

I listened carefully to what was going on in the room through my earpiece.

"There's someone outside."

"Go check it."

The steps that followed were thankfully towards the door on the other side of the room. The struggle was brief, the scuffling of several sets of shoes, and then the clamber of disappointed footfalls. The Hellhounds, still slowly clunking their way down to us, were clueless as to what was happening. 

"So sad boys... You were this close to discovering Purple Axle Kilimanjaro Wine. Too bad. better luck next time." By the chirpy tone, I guessed it was Vivienne. 

The code! But too bad we couldn't use it. Struck by an idea, I cast a look at Rebecca and repeated the words. "Purple Axle Kilimanjaro Wine!"

"You said that too loud!" She hissed back at me, looking nervously at the Hellhounds. Sure enough, they had heard us and were now quickly grappling back up the wall. Rebecca and I released the safeties on our rappel lines and dropped to the ground quickly.