**All the characters and some of the places belong to Ally Carter, but the plot is mine. Enjoy and please review! **
Eyes wide open and gazing around my room at Gallagher, I memorize my home and take a picture with my mind. After days of creating a plan to get my long-awaited answers, I am finally prepared, both physically and mentally, to leave my mother, my friends, and my whole life behind.
I look at the door that leads to the closet that we (Bex, Liz, Macey, and I) share, and imagine the clothes that hang there. My first uniform, perfectly preserved in a dry-cleaning bag, the sequined top that I wore for my first date with Josh, and the god-awful strapless dress that I was forced into for the ball with the Blackthorne Boys. My eyes land on a framed photo of Bex and me in London, and then they fall on the sleeping figures of my best friends. I'm going to miss them so much, but this is for their own good.
My mind drifts to Zach, who is probably resting fitfully, as I am, worrying. I consider going to him, but then shake my head vigorously. Are you nuts? No Zach. Not right now. You need to focus, Cameron.As the minutes tick by, I start thinking about "Mr. S". Joseph Solomon. He's still in a coma from the events of that night in the tombs beneath Blackthorne. It is unknown if he will wake up, but I believe he will wake up. Mr. Solomon is practically invincible. That's a lie. If there is one thing I've learned from going to school here, it's that we are not invincible. Spies have weaknesses too. I know I have some, and I accept them. My dad. My mom. Bex, Liz, and Macey. And as embarrassing as it is to admit it, Zach. I think this is why I do really well on missions and CoveOps exercises. I accept my weaknesses, and then I don't worry about them anymore. Well, at least until the mission is over.
Unfortunately, after just one fleeting thought is spent on Zach, my mind becomes full of him. Not to be all mushy and unspy-like, but there is just something about his dark brown hair and gorgeous green eyes that makes my insides turn to goo. Yes, actual goo-age. Then, as I think about those eyes, my mind wanders to another pair of emerald green eyes. A cold, malicious pair of eyes. Eyes that belong to Cassandra Goode.
Every single night since we stood face to face in the misty droplets of that waterfall sat Blackthorne, her evil smirk and bubble-gum sweet voice has haunted my dreams. I hear her cruel laugh, and see her twisted face as she snarls at me, and an unable to sleep at night in fear of an attack from the Circle of Cavan. I must end this.
When the clock in the bedroom reaches 1:30 am, I creep from bed and steal to the closet and grab my backpack stuffed to the max with napotine patches, comms units (just in case), disguises, and weapons of all kinds. Of course, I am proficient with every one of them. I mean, I did not take five years of P&E for nothing.
Right before I leave the room, I gently place a napotine patch on each of my best friend's forehead or arm, whichever is uncovered at the present. I will not put my friends in danger by giving them a chance to come after me. Macey looks like some kind of dark angel, dark tresses spread out across her pillow. Bex is scowling, probably beating up bad guys in her sleep. And Liz, sweet, innocent, Liz, looks so peaceful and relaxed. As I go to turn away, I see one blue eye crack open, bleary and sleepy, before it slides shut from the chemicals pulsing through its blood stream. She won't remember anything tomorrow. The door closes behind me with a snick, and I begin the precarious and risky journey to the secret passageway in the library. I chose this one because although it is almost universally known, nobody would ever expect me to take the most obvious route out of Gallagher. Hopefully, in the event that my absence is discovered, I will be long gone by then, and before they have even gotten dressed.
By the time I reach the library, my internal clock tells me that 6 minutes and 23 seconds have passed since I left my room. I slip quietly to the drapes in the reading alcove, push them aside, whisper Patefacio sesame in Latin, and tap one brick with my middle finger three times. With a groan, the bricks part to reveal a dark tunnel, and my heart thumps wildly. I shudder, not in fear of the dark passageway, which I have used countless times, but of the danger that lurks once I leave the thirty foot walls of my home.
I don't know what lies in my future, but I do know that I am ready for this, that I have been training for this moment for five years, the moment where I can do what I am meant to do; blend into the crowd like a chameleon, take down the Circle of Cavan, and bring my father home.