This is an independent work of mine. I'm busy trying to make a worth-while plot, so this is updated ONLY in my certainty and FREE time. I'm sorry if I'm being a bit snappish, but I want to make a point. So this story contains original characters with many backstories, and my slight version of Gallagher Girl series, book six.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. Sarah Leigh "Ally Carter" Fogleman owns it.

Spies, Spies Everywhere

Chapter One: Welcome!

As Mom pulled in the van to the front of the towering building, my jaw hit the floor at the size. A combination of steel and bricks were its structure and a lot of windows gave a good view at the skyline. It looked like any other high school, but what was inside, I didn't know. The windows were alive with light as shadows inside were moving, as if they weren't in the middle of spring break, as if we were going to stay in a different state.

It was like I didn't attend a school for spies.

We'd taken a plane, rented a safe CIA-approved Honda Civic, and drove for three hours, thirty-two minutes, and twenty-three seconds (and counting). My friends and I, one by one, sleepily went to the back of the car and lifted the door. Bex and Macey helped Liz haul out a suitcase with her second top-notch laptop, and a strong hand effortlessly lifted the luggage I was having trouble with from being flattened. "Need help, Gallagher Girl?"

"You can carry it all for me, Blackthorne Boy." I smirked back as his slackened. I then saw the car that just pulled behind us. "Why are you here?" I slammed the back of the van and began to follow Zach and the others. Either he decided to follow me, but the sight of Mr. Solomon and Aunt Abby made me think about what he said next.

"Someone urged me in a way." I raised an eyebrow. He shrugged. "More like gagged me behind with chloroform and threw me in that car. Besides, this also might be interesting." He added.

It sure was. All of a sudden after the events at Ireland, my Mom decided to bring us to the Big Apple for the vacation. And she told me only everyone on the break, including Professor Buckingham and Townsend that we were here. Macey's, Bex's, and Liz's parents were told of the event. Some were unhappy (Bex), the some were shocked (Liz), and the last pair shrugged it off (Macey). Tomorrow would be the official time at the break, April 6th. And by then, we would have to cope with the infinite amount of lights, bustling cars and streets full of many people.

The cars were handed to security guards (all looked like replicas of Bubble guard) who hopped onto the cars and drove them to a parking lot building. We scaled up asphalt steps, and came face-to-face with steel doors without windows. Liz used all her strength to push the door within her wiry body, and then we were inside.

"This place is certainly…amazing." Mom struggled to categorize what the lobby resembled after we had stepped inside. Every shadow hid in the corners above the bright lighting, and we walked our way in the large area with our suitcase and luggage, meeting a man who looks like he's seen lots of things in his time. His name tag spells out 'Roland,' and he sits at a tidy desk with a computer as ancient as him. He nods at my mother. "Take a seat, Rachel. You're really going to have to wait for a bit. They're always late." He winks, pointing to comfortable looking seats near a white, windowless wall. Rolling the luggage, we quickly sit, and I glanced at the clock. Eight fifty-eight in the evening.

Macey is buried in the latest book about converses and high-heeled shoes, Liz is typing away on her laptop, and Bex surveyed the place with a bored look on her face (an unintentional rhyme). I realized I'm the only one standing, and all the seats are taken. Really, a large lobby and there is only fourteen sofas, exclude seven because I don't want my backside exposed to an all-see-through window on the other wall. "Cammie, you can sit on my lap." Mom said, and I obey.

Slender arms wrapped around my waist, and then I feel like I'm in a massage chair. "Mom, please stop."

"Sorry." I imagined a sheepish smile, and the vibrating stops. Abby craned her neck to Mr. Solomon, and exchanged whispers. It continued on for minutes, and I found myself nearly falling asleep. I snapped awake at Macey thumping her magazine on the rim of her leather sofa.

"They're here." A large ring echoed, and I spot elevator doors opening, widened to allow two girls to escape its opening mouth, before it shuts. They walk to us with a clear purpose, and I think: These are our tour guides.

A tall, Asian girl follows a fair-skinned light brunette, wearing uniforms which I ruefully noticed, had no skirts. They sported navy blue vests over white, long-sleeved blouses, and grey pants. A yellow-threaded insignia of an ink blotch and a quill pen is under a simple sentence: 'Stone's Advanced School for the Gifted.'

"Good evening, we are going to direct your students to their temporary dorms for the spring break. Mrs. Morgan, you and your colleagues are going to be brought to the principal." The shorter, fair-skinned girl says, and held out a hand. "My name is Carol Fay." Abby shook it, and she directed them to the elevator to the left.

As soon as they're gone, the remaining girl turned to us with a shy smile. "Hi, I'm Mary Capila." her accent showed she's Filipino. "I'm going to be your tour guide. Do you want me to help with your things?" It's impossible to bring our entire luggage in one sitting, but the hidden muscles displays how she's perfectly capable.

Bex just shook her head with a grin. "We'll manage." she stomped her foot on Liz's before she could protest. Our new guide smiled and nods, quickly clicking a button with an arrow pointed up. With a ring, it opened. And then she bade Roland a "Goodnight!" as we rolled our luggage in.

There's a large array of buttons that spell numbers, all from basement floors (strangely in Braille) and thirty-five stories, including a likely rooftop. The elevator is the size of a large bathroom, complete with a slick floor (telling by Liz, she didn't like it!), and reflective steel that mirrors our faces. I don't understand the use of the railings until Mary punches in floor nineteen. The door closes with a light thud, and then we're ascending.

Now, let me tell you, I've had my life's share of riding elevators. Sure, there is the stomach flop when the momentum upwards makes you feel queasy. A vague memory of being thrown around a "car" helped me with that example. But maybe the Gallagher Academy's elevator speeds sort of…slowed in comparison to the ones in Stone's.

"Well, what do you think about the school so far?" Mary was able to fill the silence with a bit of talk while we were being thrown around. "I mean, it must be a bit upbeat for your liking…" She said. Of course, the supersonic speed of this elevator was making me feel…dizzy.

"Everything's fine, I guess. Right now, I'm wondering, what can happen in nine days of spring vacation?" I can't help it; it's lowly possible the Circle of Cavan can get me and hustled away from safety, but it seems safe.

The look on Mary's face told me she was thinking about a different story. "A lot can happen in nine days."

This is short, because I wrote this on March. And I am trying to create a plot with references and slight canon and non-canon pairings. All official writers and anonymous viewers alike, review. Or do not.