A few beginning notes: this story wasn't intended to grow as long as it did, so the plot is sketchy. Second, I was, what, twelve or thirteen when I wrote this? Yeah, not the best representation of my abilities... Third, I was planning on rewriting this so it'd be halfway decent, but hey, I'm a busy busy bee so lol nope.
If you came here because you wanted background for When Covers Become Realities, it's not needed. read these in backwards order, please. Here's the (partial) link to that story s/10018128/1/When-Covers-Become-Realities ... (just add it onto the basic FFN url and you're set) any questions can be directed me via PM or review, and I'll try to get back to you. Happy reading!
Ally Carter owns the Gallagher Girls.
(also lol I rewrote this chapter literally 9 months ago and never replaced it? lmao?)
o-0-O-0-o
It was dark. The air smelled like smoke and a song's heavy bass seemed to shake the brick wall behind us. The club was alight with life, but the little backstreet was empty. Almost.
Joseph Solomon leaned against the wall in between the two large garbage cans as I stood in the middle of the alleyway. The older man had arranged this meeting a few weeks back, making sure we were the only two to know about it. He was offering me a mission.
"You'll be betraying your mother. Your father did that once. Are you sure that you want to risk it?"
"I'll be fine, just tell me what I have to do."
"She'll give you a mission concerning Chameleon. This agent is important. Protect her. The Circle wants some information, desperately."
"What information?"
"That, I do not know. But I do know that they will do whatever possible to obtain it. You need to find out what the Circle wants- why this agent is so important to them."
The back door opened, revealing a disgruntled staff member, and the two of us disappeared into the shadows, heading our separate ways.
That was two weeks, four days, and twelve hours ago. That chilly night was the day I became a double agent. Technically, half a double agent. But, only three days later, I was offered the other half of my job. The Circle of Cavan had recruited me, via my mother.
"She fell for a boy. I bet she'll fall for another. Are you up for it?"
"How hard could it be?"
"Your mission will be acquainting yourself closely with Chameleon. She's very important. We would like some information from her."
"What kind of information?"
"That's irrelevant as of now. First, you must gain her trust. The rest will come. All in due time, son."
And, after yet another vague debriefing, I found that I truly wasn't given all the information. All I had to do was gain her trust, but for what? The Circle was an ancient terrorist organization that somehow always got their way. And it usually didn't end well for the others.
That's why Joe was trying to take them down. And that's why he wanted my help. The group was convinced the world was messed up and it needed to be started over, and that was not going to happen. Moles, either working for the CIA or the Circle, were always nearby. So my mission wasn't necessarily sanctioned by the CIA. Just Joe. But that was enough for me- the only adult I trusted.
Who else could I fall back on? My mother?
My mother. Let me elaborate on her especially lovely personality. Cruel, heartless, finds joy in the suffering of others. Sounds nice, huh? Well, it gets better. She killed my dad. Honestly- this is how Joe tells the story. My dad was a double agent, and somehow my mom found out about it. She got so mad, she called in some of her friends with guns and- poof – he was gone. Disappeared, not even a funeral. She faked tears for a while, faked sadness, but eventually her true self came forward. She ignored me, let me play with matches as a kid, let me run around town unsupervised, steal from convenience stores. You know, the stuff she's supposed to tell me not to do?
Of course, she tried covering up his murder, but to no avail. She said that he must've made some enemies in Brazil, but now I knew that to be false.
That all went down when I was just eight years old. And when I was twelve, my mom shipped me off to "military school". Blackthorne: where boys with bright futures went to have their souls broken. She thought it'd be perfect for me.
Flash forward to sixteen, here I was still. Still as much hatred as when I was younger brewing in every crevice of my being. Sixteen years old, and still obeying my mother as a baby would.
I sat in my room with a crappy laptop (stolen from the tech lab) loading any files with the keyword "chameleon". After two weeks of digging through Langley's archives, the only data I've pulled up is her name. Cameron Ann Morgan. Nothing else.
I was getting tired of dead ends, but finally something was looking up. A tab with a report from Langley had shown up on my screen under the title "Morgan and Abrams, Roseville." It was an article about some relationship fiasco that ended with a forklift trashing a building. After the brief story, it showed her debriefing. A very vague debriefing.
The report must've been fairly new if it hadn't been wiped from the systems yet. From what little there was, I learned that she was sixteen, went by the name Cammie, and attended the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women.
Before I could analyze the article to the extent I wanted to, the door to my room slammed open, banging against the wall. "The only day of freedom, and you choose to stay in this hellhole?" Glancing to my computer, my roommate Grant asked, "Who's that?"
I slammed the cover of the laptop down and slid it to the edge of the desk. "None of your business."
"Fine. But I'll find out. I always do," he said as he pulled off his t-shirt.
Sighing heavily, my other roommate Jonas sat on his bed. "Personally, I don't care. But if you wanted to do better research, you should've gone to the faculty lab in the basement, the core processors allow for-" Grant snapped him with his shirt before slipping on the yellowish-jumpsuit from his dresser.
"I don't care about your techno-babble."
"So, how was town?" The faculty had allowed for students to go down to the little town several miles away and out of the mountains, but I stayed behind to continue my research. I needed solitude to do it, because I couldn't expose my mission to the guys, regardless of our friendship.
"Better than here. But boring."
"Rumor has it CoveOps is going to be exciting today." Jonas was in the process of changing into his jumpsuit as I looked at the clock.
"Well, we don't want to miss it, do we? Now, hurry up because we only have two minutes and thirty-five seconds to actually get there."
o-0-O-0-o
We never did make it to class. Instead, we were stopped by a teacher. Mr. Marshalls, our Artillery and Ammunition teacher, handed us each brown paper bags in the middle of the main corridor. "Go change. Be at the tarmac in five minutes."
My bag contained jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket. My mind instantly went to a mission in town, but after I was changed and outside again, I quickly realized that it was more than a trip to town. A pile of duffel bags sat next to a helicopter, its blades whirring and spinning in the early morning air.
"Come on, boys! Hop on! We haven't got all day!" Dr. Steve waved us and twelve other boys onto the waiting helicopter. The rest of the boys piled into the large craft, and I noticed the three of us were the only sophomores. The twelve others were a combination of the other grades.
Dr. Steve gave each of us our own bag, all stuffed to the brim with clothes and toiletries and shoes.
It was an interesting turn of events. And, by the sheer quantity of supplies in the bags, it was obvious it was only going to get better.
o-0-O-0-o
The helicopter ride to the airport: 16 minutes
The plane ride south (to an unknown destination): 1 hour, 54 minutes
The van ride to a motel: 2 hours, 17 minutes
Within that long stretch of time, my internal clock ticking all the while, Grant and Jonas spent the time arguing about whether smarts or strength were needed more.
Silently, I placed my vote on patience and resistance to any urges that might lead to murder of very close friends. But that might've just been me.
The vans pulled up at a run-down motel, its paint peeling and the windows needing a good cleaning. Not to mention the broken windows on the east end and the doors with less-than-effective locks.
But there were six rooms registered under "The Jones's Art Institute of Northern Vermont" and we had a mission, so we all grudgingly filed into the shabby rooms. Within thirty minutes of inspecting for health hazards and "chilling", there was a harsh knock on our door. Grant opened it to find none other than Joseph Solomon himself.
"Get out here boys; we have a mission to start."
Grant looked over his shoulder to Jonas and me and gestured his head outside. We didn't have to be told twice. Slowly, one by one, Joe went to each door and collected all the students. When we were all in the parking lot, the sun hanging high overhead and clouds lazily drifting by, Solomon cleared his throat.
"Gentlemen, your mission statements and covers: come and get 'em." From the front seat of his black van, he revealed a pile of manila folders, one for each of us. I watched his expression carefully, looking for some deeper meaning to this mission, but none of the boys seemed surprised by the contents of the covers. I was the last to get my cover, but when I reached for the papers, Joe withdrew his hand.
"Remember your goal." I nodded, but inwardly I was questioning which goal he was talking about. The folder was finally handed to me, the top flipped open, and it was clarified. I looked to Joe, and he nodded. Before I turned back to my room, I could've sworn he mouthed, 'it's time.'
The heavy wooden door creaked as I entered my room once again, still staring at the little block letters on the first page in my file.
SUBJECT: CHAMELEON
OBJECTIVE: TAIL SUBJECT TO RENDEZVOUS POINT, PREVENTING MISSION SUCCESS. ANY AND ALL MEASURES MAY BE TAKEN.
o-0-O-0-o
It took three whole hours to read through the file, but that was mostly because Grant was trying to throw random pencils, socks, and pillows at me. For what reason? Who knows?
Unfortunately for me, the file contained no new information. Nothing to help my mission. The papers upon papers upon papers were just mission details- which would apparently last all semester.
We were going to be students at the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women, and Dr. Steve told us that we were all "fantastic young men" and that we'd fit right in. But, looking at the course descriptions, we all had our doubts.
"Culture and Assimilation?! What the hell is that? 'Etiquette, manners, integration into society, the arts, as well as many other skills and knowledge needed for becoming a refined agent and individual…' No. Where are the guns, the action, the excitement? Drills, practices, anything? How are we going to stay in shape?" Grant was fuming. He wouldn't get his scheduled time in the day to destroy things (mainly dummies and targets, but occasionally he'd detonated some trees…) or work his body until he felt like death. He claimed it made him feel more alive, but my opinion stands. Midnight drills were close to a march through hell.
"And the 'Countries of the World' and 'Research and Development' are far behind the skill level we're being taught at. Our curriculum is far more advanced, and it says here that their nuclear studies are limited. How am I going to continue my experiments for that extra credit project?"
"You guys are complaining way too much. This is the ultimate mission- be someone new for a semester. And we get to spend it with girls. In one of the 'highest rated educational facilities on the planet."" I stared at each of them in turn, wanting them to go along with it without having doubts or resisting this amazing opportunity. Though what I said was true, I was more interested in the girls. One girl. The Chameleon.
My mission had just gotten one hundred times easier. I didn't have to hack and cheat and scam my way to the information- I was handed front row seats and a backstage pass. Come 3 o'clock, I'd get to see Chameleon up close. See what-who- I was dealing with.
Sure enough, as soon as the alarm sounded in our little room, Grant, Jonas, and I followed the trail of teenage boys into the three black vans in the parking lot. The windows were tinted and we had no idea where we were going, several U-turns and full circles trying to throw us off the scent, but we all had a general idea of where we were headed. We all knew that we were in DC, and where could we have a difficult, stimulating game of tag with a bunch of girls? The mall.
Lo and behold, half an hour of driving and we were in the busiest place in all of the District of Colombia. The bright sun glinted off of the Washington monument and the reflecting pool's water was perfectly still. Grant and I stared down into the water, our reflections almost like looking in a mirror.
"Wow. I look fine in sunglasses." Grant waggled his eyebrows and made a face at his reflection, obviously enjoying himself. But, while he was fooling around, I glanced at the reflection of the pedestrians, looking for Cammie- Chameleon- or anyone with a Gallagher uniform. After a few minutes of pretending to gaze upon the gloriousness of these famous monuments, I yanked Grant away from himself, wanting to get this mission over with.
Well, not the mission itself, but the waiting. Honestly, I was dying to see the Chameleon in action, and maybe even catch her. That'd be an honor, wouldn't it?
It was now 3:30, and we hadn't caught sight of any of the girls. We'd been walking around the mall and standing under various monuments for too long, and the impatience radiating from Grant was almost unimaginable. He kept glancing at cafes as we past them, savory aromas and delectable scents staying with us long after they'd been out of sight. I tried my hardest to ignore him for as long as possible, but his growling stomach became more than a little unbearable.
I pulled a few wrinkled bills from my pocket and shoved them at his chest. "Please do us all a favor and quiet the monster known as your digestive system."
"Thanks, dude." He took the five dollars and looked at the nearest café's menus with a frown. "Everything's so damn expensive here." I glanced in the reflection of the windows as I followed him to the vending machines on the opposite sidewalk. There were no teenage girls in private school uniforms to be seen.
By the time I caught up, Grant had already bought a bag of chips and a giant cookie. He entered the number for a pack of M&Ms, but I snatched the pack from the tray before he could get to it. He grumbled, but didn't call me out. It was my money after all.
While checking for anything that could be bought with the remaining fifty cents, I saw something in the glass.
Teenage girls in plaid skirts. I squinted, trying to make out more details from their reflection. One of the girls looked familiar…
It was the Chameleon.
"Come on. Let's go." I swiveled, grabbing Grant's shirt in my hand and pulling him along beside me. A few seconds of confusion passed before he saw the girls, too.
We followed them past the lines of tourist shops and kiosks when they suddenly flipped. They were heading back towards us, but Grant and I were prepared. I turned to him and started talking about the football game that had been playing in our motel room. Grant played along, rambling on about the Cowboys' defensive line, before we made a sharp turn and were once again on the girls' tail.
They started walking away from the commercial part and more towards the parks-y area. Their heads kept swiveling as they looked for their tails- looked for us. Their necks were gonna hurt later, that's for sure.
A large square was finally in view, green grass and cherry blossoms galore. Chameleon and co. skirted around the grassy area and stayed on the sidewalk, but Grant pointed out an empty bench that'd have a view of the girls for quite a while. Our feet padded over the prickly grass and we sat on the hard plastic.
Grant pulled out his chips and ripped them open, upset when he discovered he basically bought a bag of air. He chowed them down quickly before turning to his cookie. His sweet tooth was evident as he nearly shoved the entire cookie into his mouth at once. His snacks were gone in a minute flat, but I ate my candy one chocolaty circle at a time.
I leaned back and relished the warmth of the setting sun. My eyes closed for the briefest second, and when they opened, Chameleon's partner was staring at us from across the park.
There was a second of panic before I noticed her expression. She was smiling brightly and batting her eyelashes. She twirled and laughed, and Grant's face broke into a smile beside me. My friend gave a little nod, and in response, the dark-skinned girl turned to Cameron and giggled. She wasn't having it, so the Chameleon grabbed her friend's sleeve and started walking away.
I turned to see Grant wipe away his ridiculous smile and pu ton a serious face. "Shall we?"
I nodded. "Let's go catch some girls."
o-0-O-0-o
We were undetected for an hour of following them, cutting corners and flipping and watching them crawl out of bathroom windows all the while. They started stepping up their game as time was dragging on. They had turned a corner inside the museum a little too quickly, and we lost them.
Don't worry- we found them. But not after being confused for a little bit. "Where'd they go?" Grant stood on his tiptoes as he leaned against a partition wall. I stayed silent as my eyes scanned the diverse crowd, looking for any indication of preppy girls in white blouses. Well, I'll tell you: I found thirty of them in a line on the escalator. And who was at the end, laughing with them? That's right: the Chameleon was finally living up to her name.
I nudged Grant's shoulder and pointed towards the escalator. He nodded and we silently boarded the moving stairs. Cammie glanced over her shoulder, accidentally meeting eyes with me for a split second. Her gaze was dragged away and then back to me as she realized I was staring. I winked.
The girls went wild. I could hear their giggles and swoons, each thinking my wink was for them. The agent turned away with a disgusted look, but my expression stayed cool.
Up and up we went, and as the two girls reached the top, instead of staying together, I watched them exchange glances and head in separate directions.
"See ya later, Goode."
I watched his back as he ascended the stairs, but then decided I should find Cammie before she got too far. She was in an elevator, and the doors were going to close soon. In a split second decision, I did a half-jog and slipped between the doors as Cammie reached for the button. Too late.
"Hey," I nodded, and pressed the "close doors" button for her.
"Hi." Her voice was soft and gentle, but clearly not happy. That was all she said, obviously not wanting the conversation to continue.
I knew I was supposed to tail her and keep my eye on her, but I wasn't sure if staying within a four foot radius was the best idea. Now that it was too late, I relaxed my body and leaned against the elevator wall. I found myself looking at her, observing her.
The pictures did not do her justice. She was on the shorter side of average height, coming up to my chin, with a dark blonde hair that was tied in a ponytail cascading down her shoulder blades. Her eyes, though locked on the grayish carpet, were a dark blue. She was pretty.
I decided I was staring far too long, so I fixed my gaze on the little camera in the corner of the ceiling. I made a face at whoever was watching the feed before looking back to Cammie. She was staring at me, now.
The silence was almost unbearable. I wanted her to talk. The emblem on her collarbone was from her school. "So, the Guggenheim Academy…"
"Gallagher Academy." She immediately retorted.
"Never heard of it." I smirked as I watched her shift her weight from her left to right side, becoming impatient.
"Well, it's my school." Her eyes glanced to the floor counter and her foot tapped twice. Telltale signs of nervousness.
"You in a hurry or something?"
She sighed deeply, tired of my questions. "Actually, I'm supposed to meet my teacher at the ruby slipper exhibit. I've only got twenty minutes, and if I'm late, he'll kill me." Did she really? She just told me where she was supposed go and when? Oh, Chameleon, you are not helping your reputation.
"How do you know?"
"Because he said 'meet me at the ruby slipper exhibit.'" Cammie stated, as if I didn't understand her.
"No. How do you know you only have twenty minutes?" She didn't realize the hole in her fib: there was no clock, and she didn't have a watch. And I decided to point it out to her. "You're not wearing a watch."
"My friend just told me." Caught ya.
"You fidget a lot." I smirked, enjoying watching her avoid my eyes.
"I'm sorry. I have low blood sugar. I need to eat something."
I felt a second of guilt for peppering her with questions. Grant and I hadn't eaten in a while- had she? I felt the half-finished pack of candy in my pocket, and, without thinking, held them out to her. "Here. I ate most of them already."
Her eyebrows rose questioningly. "Oh, um... that's okay. Thanks though." Yeah. That was a bit creepy- candy from a stranger. Rule number one in the real world, don't accept food from weirdos.
I slowly put the bag back into my pocket and mumbled, "Oh, okay." I didn't know I had the capabilities of being awkward, but offering her candy just caused a sudden weight in the air, a weight that carried us up two more floors, where the doors finally opened.
"Thanks again for the candy," Cammie mumbled before stepping over the threshold and seemingly darting over the tiled floors away from me.
I took a few quick steps after her, seeing if I could follow her with her permission instead of tailing her, because that'd be so much more fun. And informative.
She noticed my presence and swiveled. "Where are you going?"
"I thought we were going to meet your teacher in the wonderful world of Oz." I looked at her with my deadly smirk, raising my eyebrow and tilting my head to top it off.
"We?"
"Sure. I'm going with you."
"No you're not." She was frozen as if she didn't know how to handle an innocent civilian boy (which I wasn't, but still).
I needed an excuse to stay with her, and I found it. "Look. It's dark. You're by yourself. And this is D.C." I gestured around us to the various demographics. Though there weren't any shady individuals nearby, I gave a valid reason. I don't think she'd need any help, but if she were a civilian, she'd be in no position to deny. Still looking doubtful, I tacked onto the end, "And you've only got fifteen minutes to meet your teacher."
"Fine." And with that, she was back to her almost-jog across the museum floor.
"You can really walk fast." She could. It wasn't a lie. Though her speed would've made her suspicious to anybody watching, it was justified by the fact she was trying to get away from me. I needed to get her to keep talking. At this point, anything she said would seem important to me. "So, do you have a name?"
"Sure, lots of them."
"Do you have a boyfriend?" What was the deal with the forklift-thing anyway? Honestly, I was genuinely curious.
Cammie stopped in her tracks and slowly turned to face me. She shifted her weight from foot to foot as her eyes flitted anywhere but me. "Look, thanks for the chivalry and all, but it really isn't necessary. It's just up here. And there's a cop over there." She tugged on the strap of her backpack as she nodded towards the top of the staircase.
"What? You think that guy can do a better job protecting you than I can?" I smirked and shoved my hands into my pants pockets, knowing I was running thin on excuses for following her.
"No, I think if you don't leave me alone, I can scream and that cop will arrest you." Cammie retorted, smiling a little. She stepped one foot behind her onto the first step, and before I knew it, she was a quarter of the way up.
I watched her bound up the stairs, a speedy grace to the bounce in her step. I was about to turn and find another way up, but she stopped short. Turning to flash me one more shy smile, she added, "Hey. Thanks, anyway."
I found my face mirroring hers. "Bye, then." Raising my hands in mock surrender, I took three steps away from the staircase and turned around, already making my way to Plan B. She was gone when I looked back over my shoulder.
Almost at a run, I began to weave my way through exhibits and tourists until I found the little off-hallway. The door at the end was marked "RESTRICTED ACCESS. STAFF ONLY." I am the exception to every rule.
The door swung open with a creak and the steep, spiraling stairs led me up, floor by floor, each step bringing me a bit closer to mission accomplished. I came upon the exit marked with a giant "4" and pushed it open into the darkness that was the alcove of the hallway.
I looked around the corner for a glimpse of Cammie. It was a no-go. That meant I still needed to find her. I went from room to room, before I heard a very familiar voice.
"You're four seconds late."
I had just stepped into the large room, retreating into the shadows when I had locked eyes with Solomon.
"But I'm alone."
"No, Ms. Morgan, you're not."
I hadn't planned on showing my face, but I guessed that was my cue. I pulled myself away from the sanctuary of the wall and headed towards Joe.
On my way past her, I couldn't help but wink and say, "Hi again, Gallagher Girl."
"Nice work, Zach," Solomon said as I joined him by his side.
I leaned ever so slightly in his direction and whispered., "You teach girls? A little out of character, I'll admit. But good for you."
Cammie's voice interrupted my quip, blurting, "Hi, Blackthorne Boy."
Silence. Stunned silence.
What? I didn't say anything! How on earth could she have-? Then I remembered; she was the Chameleon. Both Solomon's and my jaw dropped. Quite literally. Solomon gained his composure faster, snapping his gaping mouth closed and merely raising his eyebrows.
"Very good, Ms. Morgan. But not good enough." Solomon's voice snapped me out of my stupor.
"Your mission was… what? To keep us from achieving our mission?" Cammie addressed me now, not even trying to hide her knowing smirk.
"Something like that," I let out an airy laugh. I really underestimated her, didn't I? She was a sneaky little thing, but she did give away a little too much. "I thought I could make you late for your meeting. I didn't think you'd actually tell me where it was and walk me halfway there." Her mouth formed an o as she prepared to combat her missteps.
But, at that exact moment, a tour group burst into the scene, flashing cameras and screaming kids. I interspersed with the chaos, wanting a clean exit and needing to rendezvous with my classmates, leaving Cammie and Joe to themselves.
And that was the last Cammie saw of me.
For now.
o-0-O-0-o
if a chapter says something like "old chapter" then that means i planned on fixing it but never got around to it... lol
Thanks for reading! Leave a review? cool thanks