Slowly, I was coming back into consciousness. I heard voices, none of them recognizable. Except one.

I tried opening my eyes to see if he was really there, but I couldn't move. All I could do was hear him and the two other men talk. Their words didn't make sense. After a while, my mind started to process. So I started to listen.

"What's the plan, Joe?" one of the men asked.

"We can't take her back like this. Everyone will freak," the other said. Were they talking about me?

"Drive to Gallagher. She'll be up by then," Mr. Solomon ordered. I wanted so bad to see him, to ask him what they were talking about. I could feel him stroking my hair. My mind felt fried. Like it didn't know anything it was supposed to. I tried to think back to how I got here, where ever 'here' is. I tried to think back to my past, but I couldn't think of anybody or anything.

Names and Identities were brought up from the back of my mind, but none of them seemed to match up. A headache found its way into my system, and I heard myself groan.

"Cammie?" Mr. Solomon asked. I couldn't be more confused.

"Who?" I asked. My eyes fluttered open and easily adjusted to the low light of the limo. I as laying down with my head on his lap. I saw hope rise and shatter in his eyes.

"You don't remember. . ." he whispered almost inaudibly.

"What?"

He looked at a man sitting next to him, then back at me. "Do you know who I am?"

"Joe Solomon." He smiled.

"Correct. Now, who are you?"

"I have no idea," I whispered, shaking my head slightly.

"Don't worry. I'm going to fix this," he assured me. I felt my body drifting, but I wanted to stay. My eyelids were heavy, and I couldn't keep them open. "Sleep, sweetheart," Mr. Solomon said softly. I did as told and slipped into a dreamless slumber.

I felt Mr. Solomon pick me up. I kept my eyes closed but ran my fingers through my hair, smoothing it. He chuckled and set me down. My feet met concrete, and my eyes opened to a mansion. It was beautifully built, and the sunlight gave it a friendly air.

My teacher put his arm around my shoulder and asked me, "Do you know where we are?"

"No."

"This is your home. The Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. You go to school here." I listened to the words and tried to remember from them. But that didn't work. I just nodded at the information to show him I understood, even if I didn't. He smiled, and that killed a little part of me. I wanted to understand for him. I was trying my hardest to know, to remember. Walking on further, Mr. Solomon told someone that no one could know I was here. I wanted to ask why, but I didn't want more information than my mind could handle.

"What are we doing here?" I asked.

"We're going to the headmistress's office, and hopefully, we can get your memory back," he answered.

He took me inside. We didn't have to sneak around the halls, because (I'm guessing) the girls were in their classes. We finally made it to a door in the Hall of History. Mr. Solomon took a deep breath and knocked. We heard a soft "Come in" before opening the door. Mr. Solomon told me to stand in the hall for a minute, so I listened through the door.

"Rachel?" I heard him say.

"What do you want Joe?" a woman said. I also heard a sniffle.

"No need to cry, Rachel," he soothed.

"My daughter is MIA, and you're telling me I can't cry?" Her voice was rising.

"I found her. Can you came in here?" he asked me.

I took my cue and walked through the door. I saw a woman with green, bloodshot eyes, and brown hair. She looked deprived of sleep and food. She looked me over many times, trying to figure out if I was really here. I know she's related to me, but I don't know who she is. She came to me and gave me a huge hug, and I hugged her back.

"I missed you, kiddo," she said through my hair.

"I missed you, too. Please don't get mad when I ask who you are." She stepped back and looked at me with confusion and worry in her eyes.

"Mr. Solomon, what is she talking about?"

"She's having some memory loss. Who do you think this is, Cam?" Mr. Solomon asked. I'm assuming I'm Cam?

"Um . . . Aunt Abby?" She looked as if I just slapped her. I guess that wasn't it.

"I'm your mother."

I felt so stupid. "I'm so sorry! I can hardly remember anything!" She stroked my hair.

"It's okay Cammie. Let's sit down, and you can tell us everything you can remember." So we did and I started at what I've been told today.

"I go to school here; you're my mom and the headmistress. And my name is Cammie, right?" They nodded and I continued, "Joseph Solomon is my CoveOps teacher. He's a double (triple?) agent for the Circle of Cavan, the international terrorist group that's out to get me for reasons I don't know. Mr. Solomon is thirty-something, and black hair and gray eyes. He was my father's best friend, and the reason he's MIA. He was put into a coma from an explosion from the Blackthorne Tombs, right before I . . ." I was at a loss for words because I didn't really know what I did. "Before I did something really big."

"How do you know every detail of my CIA profile, but not know your own name?"