Seek
chameleon
chapter one
I tug at the bottom of the black skirt, trying desperately to pull it down so it will touch my knees at the very least. As soon as I let go, though, the skirt jumps back up. I sigh, pushing at my sleeves. The blazer, too, is short and is tight around my arms, waist, and chest. It's my uniform from last year, seeing as my current one is covered in dust, cobwebs, and has a hole in the one place where I don't want a hole.
I could have stolen my friends' uniforms, but Liz is too skinny, Macey's is most likely shorter than mine, and Bex... well, Bex probably has used hers to strangle or gag someone. I'll wear my own at this point. I sigh again, glancing in the mirror. I look terrible, with my flat chest and no frame, but that's okay. Less attention to me, I suppose. Just how I like it.
There's someone pounding on the door, yelling my name for the whole school to hear. I can tell that it's Bex, and she probably needs (wants) the bathroom more than I do, so I take a last look, tie my hair back, and open the door.
"Finally," she huffs, looking me up and down. She picks at my clothing. "Are you actually putting an effort into your looks, Cameron?" I roll my eyes.
"Yeah, uh... no. My current uniform is having some problems," I say, and she shrugs, not really caring.
"You can borrow mine." I shake my head, thinking about what Bex can do with just a Gallagher uniform alone.
"Um, no thanks," I tell her, moving out of the way and shoving her in before she can say anything. The bathroom door clicks behind her. Liz is still sleeping, but Macey is up, throwing clothes all over the place. She looks up and tells me I look fabulous, but I just give her a look. There's no one to show off to, anyway, unless the Blackthorne boys come around for a little visit. Which could happen at any time in the nearby future with Joe Solomon around, anyway.
Before I know it, fifteen minutes (and twenty-two seconds) have passed, and I stand in the midst of chaos. There's Liz, falling out of her bed. Bex and Macey are fighting over some fashion thing - probably for me, seeing how much they bug me - so I take the chance to slip out the door, unnoticed.
I feel so self-conscious walking down the halls while rubbing at my bare arms. It wasn't my fault when I'd had an accident with a few secret passageways. Not taking that one again, I tell myself. No, indeed.
Breakfast is simple; I get myself waffles. My mom notices my look, and since it's early, and there's no people, she walks up to me.
"Cam." I hear her footsteps. They're muted on carpet, but I can hear them. Even for a spy, I can be paranoid. Some things have happened, and I don't want to remember them.
"Mom," I greet. She raises an eyebrow at my clothing before smiling softly.
"Uniform?" she asks. I wince and tug at my sleeves, meeting her eyes instead of staring at what I know is a very delicious breakfast in my hands. I turn red - or, at least, I think I do. She sighs.
"I'll get you a new one," she says. "Actually, I'll get you two. Why didn't you borrow one?" I freeze. Is she insane?
"Liz is too small. Macey's will be shorter. And Bex? I'm afraid of what she's used hers for. I heard that someone fell down the stairs the other day, and she said all she remembers about it is clothing." She chuckles and shifts the plate in her hands. She looks so happy, I think, but then I remember; she doesn't know. No one knows.
"Alright. Careful, Cam. Let's hope those uniforms come soon." She walks off, and I go to my usual seat, waiting for my friends. What does she mean by that? No one will care about my uniform, not really, because this is an all-girls boarding school for spies. I look down at myself, noting how different I look from myself. Boys. Boys will care about how I look.
When I look over at the table my mom sits at, she is watching me. Her eyes meet mine, even from far away, and I know she's warning me. Telling me to be prepared. Just like Dad would.
I turn away first, using a fork to stab into my waffle. It's fluffy, and there's whipped cream all over it, which makes it better. I don't think about my dad; I don't like to. But it's hard. It's hard not thinking about him when he was the one helping me sneak out, was the one who taught me to fight, who taught me to hide, who taught me to shoot. It's hard not thinking about him when he was the one who told me everything he knew - and what he didn't tell me, he left in a diary.
Reverse psychology. Telling yourself to not do one thing with make you do the thing. Telling yourself to do the thing leads to you doing the thing as well. Great. I stab my waffle again and wait for my roommates to come down. They finally do, grumbling and muttering about how early it is, though Liz is reading a book, Macey is checking her hair, and Bex has picked up a butter knife to play with, so I'm not sure if they're actually that tired.
"Hey," I say. Liz looks up long enough to wave at me, but Macey is too preoccupied. Bex, on the other hand, looks a bit too cheery as she leans over to steal part of my waffle.
"I heard we're going to be having some fun soon," she comments, taking a bite. I glare at her, but I don't say anything because a) she's the best fighter in the school and will kick everyone's butt and b) I might be a tiny bit interested about what she has just said.
Fun = fighting. Or missions. Or crawling through vents. Or, of course, Cove Ops - the best class we have to offer at Gallagher. I wonder which type of fun she means. But then again, Bex is my best friend, and I've known her for years; naturally, I know exactly what type of fun she means.
From across the room, I can feel Mom's gaze on me again. Careful not to alert Bex, I look over. Our eyes meet, again, and I can practically hear her voice in my head, telling me one word: Blackthorne. I can't help but grin and tug at my sleeves again.
A few hours later, the "fun" is defined, even though I am pretty sure we already knew what it meant. Joe Solomon, resident godfather a.k.a the most awkward family guy ever, stands in front of us. And tells us that we're going on an impromptu Cove Ops mission.
We're loaded onto a helicopter - where we got that, I'm not sure; note-to-self: investigate - and are asked to put on blindfolds. Like that's going to help, I think, but I slip the dark cloth over my head without protest. Some girls are complaining, but I tune them out. This is a mission for sure.
I lean my head back against the headrest and close my eyes even with the blindfold on. I can't see, after all. There's always a time for waiting. That time is right now, and although most of the class doesn't agree with me, I daydream about what's going to happen.
The helicopter bumps a lot when we land, and every single one of us groan as we clamber out and rip off our blindfolds. The sun is bright; I wince and stare at the ground until my eyes have adjusted.
"Girls," Joe says, his voice yielding no emotion. "Welcome to Washington D.C. Well, sort of. Do you like it?" This, like many of his other questions, is rhetorical. He is asking us if we are ready - I know I am. Well, until I see our destination.
In front of us is a mall. Like a mall mall. Jaws drop. Whispers start up. Macey begins to squeal and jump up and down, excited. I mutter a curse word in Farsi. Malls don't mix very well with Chameleons at times. Sure, it's great; there are crowds, there's cover, and everything that a spy could think of.
But it's loud. Filled to the brim with people. I gulp. I may have hundreds of sisters, but at least I'm not pushed and shoved around with a crowd of perfume-scented/sweaty, gossiping people. Ish. Macey raises her hand.
"Yes, Miss McHenry?"
"Can we shop?" Liz and I let out small groans. Shopping. What a terrible thought.
"If you can still complete the mission, the floor's all yours. No maiming. No killing. No knocking-out of your counterparts. In a minute, I will be passing out your covers. Your goal today is to compromise all operatives besides yourselves - what I mean by that is no, you may not turn on each other. Do whatever it takes. You have a hour to complete the compromising and meet me back where we started." I look around, memorizing my surroundings. Got it.
There are no more questions, so we are each handed a small manilla folder. When I open mine, I read through my cover silently.
NAME: Isabelle Carter
PERSONALITY: Shy, loves to read. Enjoys wearing dresses on hot days. Loves coffee.
EXTRA: At times, wears glasses. Red hair, brown eyes. Does not like shopping, but was dragged here by a friend. Associates with Ally (REBECCA BAXTER), Kacee (MACEY MCHENRY), has a younger sister Emma (ELIZABETH SUTTON).
Liz is reading over my shoulder; apparently, she has finished reading her file. She looks nervous, but with her free hand, she's already holding the hair dye and contacts. And clothes.
"Come on," she murmurs to me. I look at Joe - he nods. We sprint (not too quickly) to the nearest bathroom, ducking in one of the handicapped stalls for space. Quickly, we change clothes; I pull on a navy blue dress. She wears easy clothes - jeans and a loose T-shirt.
I have a bottle of water, so we take turns leaning over the toilet to dye hair a vibrant red. It's too risky to do it in front of the sink, in case anyone walks in. Liz helps me with dark contacts, and I blink, my eyes irritated for a second.
"Ready, Emma?" I ask her. She really does look like my younger sister now.
"No," she mutters, but I drag her out, anyway. We step into the mall, which isn't really a mall at all, and part ways. It's time for the game to begin.
Ten minutes later, I'm sitting with my back to the cold stone of the fountain, spray hitting me every now and then. There's a book in my hand, a recently bought one. Of course, Kacee had money on her for who-knows-what (oh, right, shopping), so I might or might not have stolen some of her cash.
The book is actually a good one, so I keep reading. In two minutes, I will pull glasses out of my handbag (which was also bought) as if I can't see the words completely clear. After all, it was never said what type of glasses I have, so I will deem them reading glasses.
In five minutes, one of the boys will probably walk by. The Gallagher girls have been positioned all around the mall (after staring at a map on the wall) in different places, to cover more space. It's what we call protocol on CoveOps, but there are usually three or four people in the same area.
There's a soft buzzing in my ear as the comms units are activated. Voices. All of them are female, and they all say the same thing: Paparazzi is ready. Duchess is ready. Viper is ready. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. I wait calmly until my turn, this time saying I'm ready, pretending to mouth words from the book. There is another wave of static before Joe's voice comes on.
"Ladies, I am now connecting your units with the boys. You will be able to hear what I tell them, but you cannot contact them and vice versa. That way, both you and the boys know what is going on and who is compromised."
There is a chorus of: "Yes, sir." I smile. Some things will never change.
"Alright. Gallagher, meet the Blackthorne Institute for Troubled Young Men."
As Joe speaks, I squint at the small black font in the book and shake my head in mock disappoint. Dog-earing the page, I paw through my handbag and put on square black glasses. Then I return to my book and wait.
The minutes tick by slowly. Spray from the fountain hits my back at times. I'm getting bored of my book - no, I'm not, really, but I'm starting to get impatient? Where are the boys?
And then I spot him. He looks like any other teenager, in fact. Whoever he is, he's good - the thing is, though, I'm better. I can see it in the way he moves. The way he walks too lightly, a fact hidden by the crowds of people who pay him no attention. He glances in the shop windows every three seconds - exactly every three seconds. His hair is a light blonde color, long and reaching the collar of his shirt, but if I look hard, I can see tufts of black.
Quietly, I pull out my burn phone and call the others.
"Blondie, near the flower boutique," I say into my comms. I've got Liz, Anna, and Macey as back-up. They all murmur their confirmations into my ear. "Watch him," I tell them. "See if anyone joins."
Joe seems to know that we haven't quite called him out yet. He says nothing to us.
My guess had been right. After three minutes, another boy joins him. They talk in the shadows, which only confirms our suspicions. Macey calls them out.
"Blonde, dark green tee and jeans. Brown-haired, blue windbreaker, jeans. Both near Allison's Flower Boutique."
"Mr. Jones and Mr. Kilt, you have been compromised." They groan and look at each other before walking away. Mission success.
Over the next forty five minutes, we compromise fifteen of the twenty boys. Liz was compromised, as was Tina, Alice, Emily, and Mia. One third of the compromised boys. Which, by the way, completes my theory: Boys are way too sexist, overconfident, and arrogant. That's why we've been chosen; we pay attention to every last detail. We're not operatives that anyone would expect.
Evidently not what the boys expected.
While my friends and I had already known about Blackthorne, I suppose the boys had never heard of Gallagher. (Except for the past generation of students, but that was a different story.) It didn't surprise me at how much harder they had to look, whether it be because of our skill or the fact that they'd never seen us before.
Forty-nine minutes. We have eleven left to compromise all the boys. Considering the last five have probably realized something about us, we're going to need to step it up. I pull out my fake phone again.
"I'm going to get coffee," I tell my sisters. "Anything you guys want?"
"Yeah, sure. You know us. If you want, we'll be shopping at Macy's." Our information has been exchanged. That's all I need to know.
"Okay, bye, guys." I hang up, mock pressing the end call button. The phone really does work, but I haven't been using it. I want to save it for another time - whether I need it or not.
There's a Starbucks nearby. It's not completely filled with people, so it doesn't take long for me to walk out with our drinks. I put the other drinks in a bag to make it easier to carry and leave, heading for Macy's.
We meet outside. Macey and Anna are equipped with tons of red bags all filled with clothes. When I ask, my roommate tells me she's preparing for the exchange - which I told the Operatives about over breakfast. Now, though, we have to talk boys; somehow, we're going to have to make it believable to the passer-by. This is comms speak, too - after all, we hear every word that's being said by one of us.
"We need to hurry," I say, acting worried. "Dad said the dogs ran off in the mall again, and he can't find them. They almost got hurt last time." Macey touches my arm.
"Okay, calm down, Iz. I'm sure they're fine. I'll help you look, okay?"I nod.
"We could try tricking them out. You know that they love the food court, and if we play it right, the dogs will come right to us. They always do." Laughter over the comms.
I nod. Together, sipping on coffee, we go to the food court to look for our dogs - which isn't far from the truth. Boys like eating. They're probably tired and hungry by now, because it's almost noon. They can get food, look like a civilian, and search for girls all at the same time. It's only reasonable.
"There," Anna mutters as soon as we walk in. The last five boys are playing their parts - rowdy, trouble-making teens who've come to enjoy themselves. With a start, I notice one of them looks very familiar. Without thinking, I take a step closer. He turns, and I freeze, staring at him.
It's Goode - he's definitely a Goode. He has the same nose, the same slanted sort of smile; there's just something in his face that I can't ignore. Macey nudges me. I keep walking, glancing at them every now and then.
I am suddenly hit with a memory of Catherine Goode - her vibrant, unforgettable red hair and her face. I remember her too well and shiver. I spent twenty-one days in a cell with Amirah, being dragged out and tortured by her. And then, at the end of the summer, I was let go.
The Circle of Cavan. I think about Dad for a moment, what he would say to me. Cover up. Stay strong, Cam. You have this. I slip a mask of happiness back on, trying to push away the bad memories.
The other girls - not compromised - have come here, too. We call them out, all five: Zachary Goode, Nicholas Johnson, Jonas Anderson, Grant Newman, and Addison Chase. Just in time, too - we have four minutes to sprint outside and meet Joe.
Once we get outside, we start jogging. While the mission was a success, we still need to get there in time, or it won't be a complete success. Every single second counts. We arrive at the landing pad of the helicopter, almost cutting it close with twenty-seven point two seconds to spare.
"Good job, ladies," Joe announces. "I'm proud of your work today. Everyone board the helicopter, please. We will discuss your mission on the way home."
Hello, everyone. I'm achieving elysium, more known for my PJO fics than anything else, but I absolutely love GG. I know it's been done before, but I've added a couple of twists: Matthew Morgan trained his daughter and told her everything he knew - including what he knew about the COC. Blackthorne - wait, no spoilers. Joe is an awkward family guy. Cammie was kidnapped last summer by Catherine Goode, but she was let go at the end. During her imprisonment, she met Amirah, a young girl who we all know.
What do you think? If you could add a bit of feedback and anything you want to see, then do! In regards to pairings, I'd like to make this more of a slow burn than having people start making out in the fifth chapter.
achieving elysium