1.
Ally Carter owns the ideas of the Gallagher Girls series.
"I wonder what this is going to be like," Alicia said excitedly.
"He's so hot!" Laura shrieked.
"And late," I grumbled, glancing at the clock. "Almost five minutes late."
Leah rolled her eyes. "Geez, Katelyn, are you the only one of us that's immune? I mean, come on, he's gorgeous!"
Okay, so Mr. Solomon was pretty good looking. Big freaking deal. I was here to learn how to be the best spy that I could be, and if Joe Solomon could help me do that, then fine; if not, fine. His looks had nothing to do with it. "At least my stomach isn't growling," I shot back.
The senior class had CoveOps immediately following breakfast. Normally – at least, when Buckingham taught – we would get up a little later and eat breakfast before heading to class. This morning, though, had been hectic. Girls had frantically run around borrowing accessories and curling irons. It was crazy. While my roommates did each others' makeup and hair, I slept an extra thirty minutes. Then, I got up, pulled my hair in a ponytail, and pulled on a uniform. The rest of the junior class was still getting ready, so I had gone down to breakfast like a sensible person and eaten some cereal and an apple. Then, I had gone back up to get my books and had planned to go to class, but Laura wouldn't let me out of the room without at least a little makeup. My light skin was flawless, so I didn't mess with base or powder. I put on light silver eyeshadow that made my blue eyes sparkle and applied some mascara under Laura's watchful eyes. Then, I had gone to class with the rest of the juniors and now, here we were. Five minutes without a teacher.
And then Joe Solomon came through the door, his hair slightly wet and his white shirt pressed. He flashed us a smile as he walked slowly, as if he were strolling. I remembered my dad's teachings from when I was younger and I recalled the times that I had failed to listen before. Look where that had gotten me. So, I paid close attention as Joe Solomon spoke in Japanese, "What is the capital of Brunei?"
"Bandar Seri Begawan," we all replied easily. Was he serious? Did he not realize that we were all geniuses and that the question he had just asked was one that any of us could have answered in first grade?
Mr. Solomon switched to Swahili, his accent nearly perfect. "The square root of 97,969 is…"
Easy. "313," we all replied. I guess this was just a preliminary test. An easy one. Too easy, actually, which made me suspicious.
"A Dominican dictator was assassinated in 1961. What was his name?" Now he spoke Portuguese.
"Rafael Trujillo." We replied. I had read up on that before kindergarten. The assassination was allegedly done by a Gallagher Girl, but I found out later that it wasn't true. (Not that anyone would know even if it had been a Gallagher Girl. We're too good to be caught.)
"Close your eyes," he said in Arabic. As I closed my eyes, my senses tingled. I knew – even if my classmates did not – that the real test was about to begin. And I knew that I would be ready. After all, my parents had trained me well.
Mr. Solomon spoke English now. "What color are my shoes?"
I was a little surprised when my voice was the only one that answered. "Black." I didn't sound like I was showing off (which I wasn't). I just sounded like I was stating a fact (which I was).
"Am I right-handed or left-handed?" he asked.
"Right," I replied and I was, once again, the only Gallagher Girl that answered.
"Since I walked into this room I have left fingerprints in five places. Name them."
I took a breath as I remembered. "Does the outside door handle count?"
I could almost hear the smile in his voice. "No."
Darn. Think hard, Katelyn. Think. "Inside door handle, the back of the empty chair on the back table to the right, the corner of that same table, your desk, and the back of your chair."
There was silence and I feared that I had gotten it wrong. Darn, I was so sure….. I had been paying such close attention. I thought that I had done well.
"Open your eyes," he said softly.
We all did. Joe Solomon's bright green eyes stared right into mine, and I saw something that I couldn't quite place. Maybe he was impressed; maybe he was seeing someone else in me. I can't be sure. "What's your name?" he asked, even though I was pretty sure that he already knew.
"Katelyn, sir," I replied. "Katelyn Hunter."
He nodded slowly and then his gaze shifted to my classmates, whose stomachs were grumbling on and off. "Well," he said. "Katelyn has demonstrated a very powerful sense of observation. If I sent you out into the field today – the real field, ladies – she would be the only one to survive. Do not underestimate the power of observation. It can – and someday, will – save your lives."
Everyone was hanging on his every word, including me. He seemed to know what he was talking about.
"Notice things, ladies," he said. "That's all I ask. Tomorrow, you better all be able to do what your classmate here can do. Dismissed."
Too early, I thought as I gathered my books. Joe Solomon's eyes followed me out the door.