DISCLAIMER: Semantics, really.
On the last day of summer break, I could almost feel the mansion waking up around me, preparing for its sisters to come home. From the safety of my chair (those huge comfy armchairs that could easily fit two girls, a boy, and possibly Chuck Norris), I hear Mr. Mosckowitz squealing—eerily resembling the schoolgirl I'm supposed to act like—about his new clone to a very unimpressed, or possibly bored, Joe Solomon. Either way, his impassive face didn't change for the whole 5 minute (and 23 second) conversation.
It was the last day of summer break and I was tired of being locked up in this mansion, or more specifically this old room situated above the Hall of History. It wasn't exactly top-secret, considering maintenance had turned it into a storage room. Because of this, the old chairs they tossed in here were great to curl up in on a rainy day and just observe life move around you. And by "life moving around you" I mean it was a totally great vantage point to spy on the happenings going on just below. Granted the "happenings" actually meant the action of my mothers office and the accompanying hallway. Bear in mind "action of my mothers office" meant the suspicious visits of my teachers, and the occasional gifts they would bring by. Acknowledging that "occasional gifts" to spies were the manila folders, unmarked boxes, and coded messages that kept my curiosity up all night.
So when my mother stepped out of her office, looked straight at me and said loudly "Cammie, may I talk to you please?" I blushed, even though no one could see me, and booked it into her office.
"Hey Cam," she laughs, "you came down here faster than when I told you there was a Costco sized shipment of peanut M&M's coming in. You were falling all over yourself."
I could easily recall the frosty winter night of my first year at Gallagher. My trained memory didn't work much to travel back a few years—the hard part was the rush of emotions and memories that came with. It was a different time then, and we were different people. It was so soon after dad, and what I remembered most clearly about that time in my life was my mother—my strong, smart, beautiful mother—struggling to keep things together, to keep things running. I quickly reverted my mind back to the present, summoning the fond memories in my life, clinging to that happiness. So I smiled at my mother, and we briefly recounted a tale of arriving to a slightly undercooked pepperoni pizza instead. "At least I didn't burn it" I remember her mumbling.
My mother beckoned me inside, still smiling, and delivered the next bit of news so casually, I would have never guessed what I later knew, that there was more to this upcoming party from the start.
"Macey's people called and," I laugh and can't help interrupting.
"'Macey's people'? She has 'people'?" But my mother just ignores me and continues on like I'm invisible. An act I've gotten very used to.
"And she wants you to come down to Boston for one of her dads political events."
"Oh!"
"Is that alright?" my mother asks, and begins to go into details about the evenings plans.
But I'm not listening; I'm too excited now to listen to a word I tackle my mother in a hug, look up at her with wide eyes, and in a more controlled voice ask, "Really?"
"Well, I can understand your hesitation to leave your loving mother and beautiful school but you'll be back tomorrow so don't worry," my mother replies with a smile and glare of her own.
"Yay!," I exclaim again, "When can I leave?" feeling only slightly guilty for being so upbeat about leaving her. I mean come on, my mom's pretty awesome but I only get to see her a couple hours each day. The rest of that time is spent wandering the halls, both public and secret, and chatting aimlessly with teachers. Note to self: never offer to be a test subject for one of Dr. Fibs new experiments. Ow. Who knew combining anti-gravity and the new compact edition of rocket heels would be so deadly?
"A helicopter will pick you up in five. You'll be dropped off at one of the McHenry's private jets, it should take you to Boston in a little over an hour."
"Five minutes!" I demand, "I can't pack enough to satisfy Macey in five minutes!" Of course, I could pack my whole wardrobe and not satisfy Macey. Then again, I was in training to be a spy, and time crunches were something I'd have to get used to—Just part of the job.
"Oh, I forgot," I look at her curiously because spies never forget anything. It was a very unfamiliar phrase in my family, "Oh, I forgot." I studied her a little closer and was surprised to notice the bags under her eyes, the slightly smudged makeup and half-hearted attempt to look happy and presentable. My gaze turns worried and a little skeptical. She's definitely hiding something. Big, probably. I sigh. Not noticing my revelation (sloppy again, especially for an ex CIA operative) she continues, "she mentioned that she doesn't want you packing, just to come in something semi-formal for the day, and she has clothing for you for dinner and the event."
"Ugh," I groan, "she's probably going to put me in a neon green bikini with a hula skirt."
"Why would she do that?" my mom asks, her tone and voice evidently containing laughter. I glare.
"Well duh, for payback. She totally wants to get me for that time I convinced her they kill people who fail so they don't spread our secrets when they leave. I didn't think she'd believe me, but she actually studied twice as long every night, it was hilarious."
But my mother just laughs and tells me I need to leave. I kissed her cheek, and sprinted up the stairs to get changed.
A few minutes later I'm in a copter waving goodbye to my mother with just a toothbrush, my favourite lip gloss and a few spy essentials expertly hidden inside my purse. If I could go back in time, with the knowledge I had know, I would have looked at things differently. If it was still September, and I was still within the safe walls of the Academy, I would have studied my mother a little longer. I would have listened to Mr. Solomon's conversations a little closer, studied my schools secrets a little harder. But it was December, and I was in a Safe House in a foreign country, and every part of me knew it was too late, and a small part of me wondered whether it would have helped anyways.
I didn't think of any of those things right then though. Then all I could wonder was whether Macey would approve of my simple black flats, dark wash skinny jeans and a turquoise tee with a thick black belt wrapped around it. Half of which stolen from her closet. The Macey inside my head said 'Funky' and 'It brings out your eyes'. My plain blue eyes, they were darker than hers, more a light blueberry as opposed to her crystal orbs. It's not like I'll be seeing anyone I know, or could possibly start a relationship with. Not that I wanted a relationship. Or needed one. Then again, if I'm going, and the Secret Service is there, then maybe Zach would be there. Not that Zach had anything to do with the aforementioned thoughts on relationships.
Sigh. Zach. The object of my attention all summer (something I tried to convince myself was purely out of curiosity and suspicion). He probably only kissed me because he was leaving. A simple good-bye kiss. No commitments. Probably no big deal to him. But then again, he did pay more attention to me than anyone else during the exchange. And I had trusted him during our final. I mentally slapped myself mid-thought. I couldn't be thinking about this. Boys were confusing. Boys were mysterious. And boys can break hearts. Especially Blackthorne Boys.
I couldn't afford another broken heart, not in Sublevel Two. Who knows what Solomon would throw at us (sometimes I doubted that even he knew). I had to admit his hard and fast methods were quite effective, my spy skills were much better than before.
Maybe it was training, maybe it was instincts, but as the helicopter started to descend, some subconscious part of me rigged up for battle. I was going into foreign ground, without a sister by my side. New circumstances, new surroundings, new adventures. When I looked out the window, saw the Secret Service Agents waiting, and the inconspicuous black vehicle, I knew that any choices made my Sophomore year that may seem wrong now didn't matter anymore. If I had faith that my mistakes were part of a natural path towards success, then I would continue to learn and grow and be the best Gallagher Girl I could be.
Feeling like I could take on the world, I stepped off the helicopter, and came face to face with a really cute guy.
My previous resolve disappeared as I stared into the face of an angel. Well, not angel. No angel wore crisp black suits and a Comms units and Secret Service regulation loafers. Insecurity began to build in my chest, replacing my earlier confidence, as I reminded myself that the Gallagher Girl curriculum had nothing to do with boys.
Well, Goddamnit.
AN: Some of you may have already read this story, its Maysun Rain's former GG3, just redone after the release of the actual book. If you do recognize this chapter, skip to Chapter 19 and read the AN there.
Oh and all comments, critism, and ideas are welcome. Critism must be specific, no "You suck." Try, "You suck at keeping people in character." Because then I actually know what to fix. Im pretty much open to anything. THAT sounded sexual. Right. -Mayson