Secrets of a Spy

                The night was still. Not a single leaf stirred, and not a single bird chirped. It felt as if the evening was waiting for something, or someone, holding its breath for the great entrance.
                Leaves crunched beneath the feet of a girl, who was walking towards home. She had blond hair that went just to her shoulders, with darker streaks. Her eyes were a calm, hazel color. Her skin was pale, like the moonlight, and in her slender hands she held a briefcase.

               Once again the world resumed its old self. A cricket chirped in the distance. The blond girl pushed her glasses into a more comfortable position and continued walking.

                When she got home, she looked around, checking to make sure no one was peeking. Then she tied her hair up into a ponytail and opened the briefcase. On the front it read: HOLLY MASON.

                Holly gently glided her fingers over the gadgets and tools she used as a spy, all put neatly in the briefcase as if the items were newly bought. Everything was in good condition. Holly checked to make sure she had her spy ID, all of the tools and gadgets, and the important documents. Then she opened an invisible compartment in her bedroom wall and slid it into its hiding place, which had been neatly dusted, making it look not so obvious that it had been used for 2 years already.