I push myself to move forward, to keep running. I have been running for only a couple of months. After the second mile, my legs burn, and my lungs feel like they are about to burst out of my chest. I feel like my body is being stretched an innumerable sum of times. After that-after the pain I feel in my body-it just become easy. I go faster, farther, each time. But today, I can't make it to my second mile. I bend over and practically choke on my own coughs. I sit down on the curb of the road and rest my head on my knees. This slows my breathing down considerably even though my head throbs to such an amount that the whole world moves around me.
It's the running. I know it's the running. In a few short months I have pushed myself harder than I have ever done before.
I run for the exact opposite of some people on the track team. Some of them do it to clear their mind, or just for competition. I run to enhance my ability to look for things people may miss. After Cammie, I stopped trusting things that seem too good. I run to practice seeing things that aren't noticeable. I run to remember.
I feel like there is this piece of my life I cannot remember and if I run I'll be able to catch the memory. Of course it is ridiculous. Ridiculous to such an extent where I actually make myself believe that I will find that memory if I run far enough.
"Stop kidding yourself..." I whisper. Suddenly there is a voice at the back of my head.
"Josh...government...secrecy..." the words are jumbled. Spinning like a pinwheel. I groan. I have to make it home, I smell rain in the air. Maybe-or for sure- I'll put running of for a couple of days. It's almost dinner time, and when I get home I'm eating extra servings. I get up and start to trudge back the way I came. Suddenly, my foot hits a loose brick in the road and I glance down. My heart squeezes and I feel sharp anger stab me in the chest.
Without a thought as to what I am doing, I bend over to look under the brick. I wince as excruciating pain hits the back of my head.
I come back up with a small piece of paper. My heart ebbs. Cameron and I. Our note system. Slowly, I unfold the dirt crusted, slightly damp piece of paper.

'Cammie, if your reading this...I miss you. That's all.
-josh

P.s Spy or not.'

Frowning, I pocket the note and start to walk home.
What does this mean? Spy or not? Did I write this? I'm sure I did, it's my handwriting. But I have no memory of it. None at all. Suddenly the whole world spins all around me and if my feet are on the ground I don't feel it. 'Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.' My head throbs with each heartbeat.
Again, I sit down, in the middle of the road. It comes as a relief to feel solid ground. I close my eyes and rest them on my knees. This helps, because I don't feel like I am spinning anymore. I get up when I hear a car rolling down the road. So I get up and move slowly.

After I am finally at the Pharmacy, my father is a half-hour until close up. I walk into the air conditioning and welcomed with icy relief.
"Josh, what are you doing here?" my father asks.
I wince as I make my way up to the counter.
"Killer headache." I groan. I rest my head on the cold counter. It feels good but the small gesture kills me.
"Here son, take these, they work really fast." he hands me two big blue and red pills and a bottle of water. "Oh, and DeeDee called."
I take them and sit behind the counter and wait for the relief.

I ponder the mystery behind the note and the words I don't remember writing. I try to put the puzzle together about how I feel about Cammie. Honestly, I am more upset she admitted I was just a toy to her than anything else. Even the part where she lied to me about her whole life. I think of DeeDee, whom I have been dating since the beginning of the summer. DeeDee's sweet, beautiful and kind. But I feel like she's so transparent. Easily seen through, but hard to see. If that really makes sense.
I sit there for ten minutes until I feel the slightest bit of relief.
"Dad, I'm going to walk home." I say.
"Are you sure? I just have to deal with these last few prescriptions then we can get out of here."
"No, I'll be fine. See you at home." I wave good bye and start on home, because a few prescriptions will become more. I feel the slip of paper in my pocket and stare at my feet as my mind wanders to Cammie again. Or more, the note.
Suddenly, I hear the voice again. Feel the pound in my head.
"Woman...test...sp..." The last part is fuzzy and disoriented. The whole thing is fuzzy. Like when my dad is trying to find a good radio station in the car, and you can hear the distant voice of another radio station while you are also hearing a different station at the same time. It is sub-continuous and buried deep in my head.
'Cameron...cameron...Cameron.'
"Enough!" I whisper to myself. I rub my temple just as I hear footsteps. I turn.

My heart freezes and I hold my breath. It's Cammie.
"Cammie?" I say, only noise does not come out, I just open my mouth and close it like a fish. She also freezes, standing in the shadows. I wouldn't have seen her. I would have just walked right by her. If I could. But I always see her, she's just that outstanding.
She illuminates the shadows, a spark in the crowd, a tree in the desert. She's like a lake in the Sahara.
"Cammie..." this time the words come out. I widen my eyes as I see what she's wearing. A school uniform with a Gallagher Girls badge over her heart.
"Josh?"
I have to push my anger back, to push all the doubt, pain and negativity away. I have to be polite. That's the least I can do.
I begin to walk to her, fighting not to wince because my head ache is still fighting to stay.
When I reach her, she still has not moved a bit.
"Hey..." I start. Not knowing what else I can say.
"H-hi." I can tell she's uncomfortable by the way she keeps trying to subtly looking around.
"It's...it's good to see you. How are you?" Great. It's a start. Her eyes flicker to me for a couple moments before looking at her feet.
"It's, well you know. Life is going on..." she sighs. "What about you, you look good." She gestures to my clothes. I look down, but before I do, I see her wince. I pretend not to notice because it would make her even more uncomfortable. The sun beats down on my back making sweat bead down my neck.
"Yeah, I've been running." Talk. Talk. Talk. "So what are you doing here?"
She turns her blue eyes to me, her hair blowing with the gust of wind.
"It's a class thing," she stretches onto her toes for a second, and it looks like as if she's a bird wanting to take off, but if earth bound.
I nod, and think, 'Im the bond between her and flight.'
"Hey Cammie," I start. But have to idea how it's going to end. I have no idea.
"Yeah?" she asks. Suddenly, the words are back.
"Over a century ago...training..." they are clearer. More defined than last time.
I wince and touch my temple. "Actually...I have a killer headache, I have to-"
"Cammie!" I look up, I see Cammie look around her shoulder, and see a tall boy stride toward us. His face seems familiar. There is a bell going off crazily in my head but it's so far. Suddenly, everything rushes back to me with such a force that I go cold. It feels as if I have never even took the pills. I remember everything all at once, just as he slips his hand in hers. Just as a see a small glint between their two entwined hands.
"'Gallagher Academy is not all it seems to be, over a century, this school was founded by Gillian Gallagher. This school is a school for spies, and Josh, Cameron happens to be one.'" I repeat the woman's -Cameron's mom- words. Cameron Morgan is a spy. "Guess Suzie isn't real."