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About Spy School
Product Description Like many kids, Ben Ripley imagines life as a secret agent would be pretty awesome -- so when he learns he's been recruited to the C.I.A.'s top secret Academy of Espionage, it sounds too good to be true. And it is. From the moment he arrives -- and ends up in the middle of an enemy attack -- Ben finds Spy School is going to be far more difficult, dastardly and dangerous than he expected. Even worse, he soon discovers that he hasn't been recruited to become a top agent; instead, he's been brought in as bait to catch a devious double agent. Now, Ben needs a crash course in espionage so that he can catch the mole, prove his worth -- and get the girl. It won't be easy, but it'll be a very fun -- and very funny -- ride. About the Author Stuart Gibbs has written several screenplays including See Spot Run, Repli-Kate, and the upcoming Parental Guidance, and has developed TV shows for Nickelodeon, Disney, ABC, and Fox. Before all that, he studied capybaras (the world's largest rodents) and worked at the Philedelphia Zoo (which is run much better than FunJungle). He now lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two children, Dashiell and Violet. This is his first novel. Visit him at Stuartgibbs.com. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Spy School RECRUITMENT Ripley Residence 2107 Mockingbird Road Vienna, Virginia January 16 1530 hours “Hello, Ben,” said the man in my living room. “My name is Alexander Hale. I work for the CIA.” And just like that, my life became interesting. It hadn’t been, up till then. Not by a long shot. That day had been a prime example: day 4,583, seven months into the twelfth year of my mundane existence. I had dragged myself out of bed, eaten breakfast, gone to middle school, been bored in class, stared at girls I was too embarrassed to approach, had lunch, slogged through gym, fallen asleep in math, been harassed by Dirk the Jerk, taken the bus home . . . And found a man in a tuxedo sitting on the couch. I didn’t doubt he was a spy for a second. Alexander Hale looked exactly like I’d always imagined a spy would. A tiny bit older, perhaps—he seemed about fifty—but still suave and debonair. He had a small scar on his chin—from a bullet, I guessed, or maybe something more exotic, like a crossbow. There was something very James Bond about him; I could imagine he’d been in a car chase on the way over and taken out the bad guys without breaking a sweat. My parents weren’t home. They never were when I got back from school. Alexander had obviously “let himself in.” The photo album from our family vacation to Virginia Beach sat open on the coffee table before him. “Am I in trouble?” I asked. Alexander laughed. “For what? You’ve never done anything wrong in your life. Unless you count the time you spiked Dirk Dennett’s Pepsi with Ex-Lax—and frankly, that kid was asking for it.” My eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know that?” “I’m a spy. It’s my job to know things. Do you have anything to drink?” “Uh, sure.” My mind quickly cataloged every beverage in the house. Although I had no idea what this man was doing there, I found myself desperately wanting to impress him. “My folks have all kinds of stuff. What would you like? A martini?” Alexander laughed again. “This isn’t the movies, kid. I’m on the clock.” I blushed, feeling foolish. “Oh. Right. Water?” “I was thinking more like an energy drink. Something with electrolytes, just in case I need to leap into action. I had to ditch some undesirables on my way over here.” “Undesirables?” I tried to sound cool, as though I discussed things like this every day. “What sort of . . .?” “I’m afraid that information is classified.” “Of course. That makes sense. Gatorade?” “That’d be grand.” I headed to the kitchen. Alexander followed. “The Agency has had its eye on you for some time,” he said. I paused, surprised, the refrigerator door half open. “Why?” “For starters, you asked us to.” “I did? Wh
