Chapter 1:
WARNING! This story is under editing, I think I've matured since I first started the story and I'd like the chance to try to improve it. Please read at a later time!
Disclaimer: Ally Carter owns all- except the plot and a few characters I made up.
CPOV
I strut onto the stage, and flash a smile at my audience. "Hey everyone! Thanks for coming! I'll be singing my new song."
I scan the audience as I dance and sing. I pause, something about a boy in the crowds standing out to me. As I continue to look through the crowd, my eye catches on more people. I continue my performance as rehearsed, but I keep wondering why they stood out to me. Obviously they stood out for some reason, but why? They weren't dressed to attract attention, so obviously that wasn't the reason why. Finally it hit me- they weren't paying any attention to me! And while yes, that did bruise my ego, why would they come to a concert if they weren't going to listen to the singer?
I finish my song. "Good night everyone!" I say, then head backstage.
"That was amazing!" Jenna squeals. Jenna was my manager, and the closest thing to a friend I had. She was fiercely protective, which I guess is a good thing because that's what she was here for. A year after she became my friend and noticed my skills, she spilled the secret. Apparently, she works for the CIA, and was assigned to look after me for some reason she won't tell me, though she swears that isn't why she's still here. She wouldn't have been able to tell me about her job though, if it weren't for the skills I had that the CIA director was hoping to get. After swearing that I wouldn't tell a soul, I asked if I could have a year to live as a semi-regular person before I became a spy. He agreed, but made me promise to work on my natural skills while I was at it.
See, ever since I was younger, I'd been able to do these crazy things no regular person can. So I came to an awesome, but scary, realization- I wasn't regular. I can speak multiple languages, and no, not the impressive-but-still-regular two to five, I mean nineteen languages, twenty-four if you count the ones that I can speak but not write. I also know fifty-four ways to kill a man, probably more if I spent sometime thinking about it, though realizing that was insanely creepy.
But I guess to the Director, those were skills.
"Thanks Jenna." I reply smiling. Then I remember about the people. "Hey, there were these kids in the crowd that seemed really cool. Think I could let them backstage to speak with them?" Cool of course, wasn't the word I was actually trying to say. You always had to be wary of eavesdroppers, so cool was our way of saying suspicious.
She looks into my eyes and says, "Sure, but be careful, you can never know what kids are up to. You want me to come with you?"
The last line made me pause. It meant that I had to judge how bad I thought the situation was. Yes would mean that there may be actual trouble with these kids, but a 'No' meant that it was completely fine. I decide to play it safe.
"Why don't I go get them and you can just meet us in the dressing room?" That meant that I didn't think they'd attack me, but we should still question them.
"Alright." She gives me a look, reminding me to be careful before walking away. Taking a deep breath I poke my head out of the curtain. Most people have cleared out but some still linger, and luckily for me, they were still there.
I walk over to one of the girls that had caught my attention and ask her to follow me, not giving any clues as to why I would want her to.
She looks shocked at me, but she replies with a slight British accent, "Okay..."
I smile, and continue on my little round up of people.
Finally, I walk over to an older man. "Hello. I'd like for you to follow me backstage, if it isn't too much of course."
He nods suspiciously, and I lead them backstage, ignoring the whispers behind me.
When we get to my dressing room, I turn towards my guards, who'd been 'secretly' following me the whole time.
"You're free to leave now." I say. One nods and walks away, but the other pouts.
"How'd you see us?" He whines.
I huff. "Oh come on Dale, it wasn't that hard to see you! Besides, you know you'll never be able to sneak up on me."
"I will one day!" He insists. "And why do I have to leave too- why can't I stay and watch?"
"Fine- but you better stay out of this!"
"I always stay out of things don't I? Unlike you, Miss Stick-Your-Nose-In-Everyone's-Business!"
"What are you a first grader?"
"What are you? A seventeenth grader?
"Idiot, that didn't even make sense!"
"Oh 'cause you just know everything, don't you smarty-pants?
I open my mouth to retort, but a throat clears behind me. Flashing one last playful glare at Dale, I turn to smile innocently at the man standing in front of the kids who are looking at me like I'm nuts. Dale, seeing the innocent look on my face, snorts. I throw him another glare before turning my attention to the group.
"Yes?"
The boys and girls exchange glances.
The older man speaks up. "Hi, I'm Joe Solomon, but you can call me Mr. Sol-"
I cut him off. "Can I call you Joe as well?"
He sighs, but nods.
"What about Joey?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I said so."
"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the stupidest response known to man." I mutter under my breath.
"Um, excuse me? Didn't your mother ever teach you anything about politeness? Wait, stupid question, obviously not." says British Girl.
My jaw clenches. "Don't you ever say anything about mothers."
"Or what," She taunts, "You'll hit me?"
And even though I know she's trying to get a rise out of me, I do exactly that- I hit her. Her head swings to the side from impact and I turn to look at Joe.
"So, as I was saying-" I see a fist coming at me from my peripheral vision and sigh before turning back towards British Girl.
I catch the punch, and then swing it over her head and twist behind her back. She tries kicking me, but misses. I swipe her off her feet, and pin her to the ground.
"I'm sorry, but I believe you shouldn't try that again." I say, getting off her.
I hear a rather handsome boy with striking green eyes say, "How'd she do that? Bex's the best in the class!" Okay, so British Girl's name is Bex.
The boy beside him elbows him. "Shut it Goode, I think we need to hear the girl speak. Okay Zach?" He looked at me. "I'm Jonas."
I smile, "Hey Jonas. It's nice meeting you, but we need to talk, and I'd like it if we have some privacy." I jerk my head to gesture at my dressing room door.
Everyone nods their consent. I smile, finally, we're getting somewhere. I lead them into the room, and find Jenna sitting there looking irritated.
"You know, when you told me you'd meet me in the dressing room I pictured you being a lot faster, and without this doofus." She says, looking at her watch first then to Dale, who, true to his word, had stayed out of the whole situation. I guess I should give him more credit.
Ignoring the cry of protest from Dale, I moved my way to sit beside her on the bed- and yes, there is a bed, my dressing room was huge. Dale sits beside me, and I feel a boost of confidence with them by my side. Jenna gives me a look, this one saying that I didn't have to tell them anything I didn't want to, before motioning towards Joe.
"I'd like to know who you are, and what you're doing here." I say, turning to look at Joe and who I presume are his students.
Joe speaks up. "We're just taking a field trip."
"Liar."
"How'd you know?"
"Your heart rate sped up."
"But only extra-ordinary people can hear heartbeats."
"I thought you would've noticed by now. I'm not normal, and neither are you. Besides, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't field trips supposed to be educational? A concert isn't the most educational place in the world, now is it?"
"It is if you're us." Zach muttered.
"So I suppose the fact that you're all wearing disguises are part of the learning experience?." I ask, pulling a wig off Zach's head.
"H-how'd you know that?" asked Jonas.
"I thought we went through this already. I'm not normal."
"Apparently you aren't. Now if you'll excuse us, we need to get back to scho-"
"I'm sorry, but I can't let you leave. You haven't told me why someone would send spies to my concert."
There's a dead silence for a 3.0458 seconds.
"May I speak with you parents?" Joe asks.
I tilt my head and smile at him. I say softly, "I don't know where you'd find them. I was kidnapped from them. Can't remember anything before that. I managed to get away from the guy after an hour of being tortured."
Joe turned to me. "Lily, you're right. We can't leave. Not until you answer some questions."
"I'll see if I'll answer them, based on how personal." I say.
"Fair enough. How old were you when you were kidnapped?"
"When I was six."
"How aren't you normal?"
"I know how to speak 19 different languages, I know how to kill people with 54 different ways with my bare hands, I can hear things muttered 70 meters away, I can find trip wires, hidden cameras, hiding people, suspicious behavior, passageways and I can blend into a crowd, even though I'm so famous. It's actually pretty irritating for the paparazzi when they can't find me."
"You're definitely not normal." said Zach.
"We've covered that. What now?"
Joe speaks up. "You need to come with us. We know who your kidnapper was, and they don't attack people for no reason. From the skills you've listed, I believe I know exactly who you are, and who your parents are. What's your name?"
"Lily Wade."
"Your real name?"
"... Cammie Morgan."