BAM!

I don't own Gallagher Girls D:

Cammie POV

After a very long and awkward car ride with Zach to a small town on the border, we were parked in front of a cheap motel. I could almost smell the bacteria.

"No way." I said, shaking my head rapidly. I closed my eyes tight, and pushed down the door lock on the Corvette (did I forget to mention Zach 'borrowed' a car?) "I am NOT going in there." I crossed my arms tight over my chest, keeping the seatbelt in a firm grip. "Wipe that smirk off your face, Goode." I warned, feeling his smirk grow stronger.

"Who said I was smirking?" He retorted. I heard him unbuckle his seatbelt and take the keys out of the ignition. I shook my head, opened my eyes, and pointed to myself.

"Spy." It was my turn to smirk as he pouted. I reached my hand over, resting it on his cheek for a second, while he closed his eyes, leaning into it. I mentally chuckled, then took my hand away, flicking his nose. I used to do it with dad, laughing at the expression he'd get after I did so. And it made me sad when Zach wore the same one. I was expecting him to do something Zach-like. Smirk, or glare, or make a stupid comment. I leaned back in my seat, staring at the starry sky through the windshield. I closed my eyes again, but this time, it was from exhaustion instead of disgust. I felt Zach reach across me to unlock the door, (A/N: I know he could just press unlock, but I find it cuter that he reached across her ;] ) and I didn't bother stopping him. For dragging me out of my hotel room, and refusing to tell me why, was enough for me to make him carry the bags in… and myself. I heard him get out of the car, head around to the trunk to retrieve our suitcases, then open my door.

"Cammie," I felt Zach shaking my shoulder. "We're here." I picked up on the mock in his voice, smiling slightly. I opened my eyes like I had been sleeping for hours. I stretched my arms towards him, wiggling my fingers in his face.

"Zachy?" I made my voice as groggy as I could. "Can you carry me?" Zach sighed, shaking his head.

"Fine." He wrapped an arm around my waist, and flung me over his shoulder, like I was a sack of potatoes. I squealed through my ear to ear smile.

"Zach!" I pounded my fists on his back. He tickled the back of my knee, careful not to drop me. I laughed like a maniac, pounding his back harder. "Zach, stop! Put me down!" I managed to get out between my squeals of laughter.

"Oh, but Gallagher Girl, I thought to wanted to be carried…" I could almost feel the smirk on Zach's face. He walked all the way to one of the motel rooms with me still over his shoulder, tickling my leg. I heard him unlock the door, but not open it, then set our bags down. He reached over with his extra arm, to shift me, and hold me bridal style. I giggled, resting my head against his chest. He kicked open the door, as if this was our honeymoon, and he couldn't be bothered to take his hands off me. I heard him push the suitcases in with his foot, while I worked up the energy to lift my head back up, and take in the room. It was the smallest I'd ever seen, and that includes the hotel room I had in Toronto. You walk in, and basically right in front of you is the bed. There was no door to the washroom, which was on the other side of the bed. Did I forget to mention that there is only ONE bed? And it didn't look like the bathtub was big enough for a person to lay in, much less bath in.

"Uh…" I felt the heat creeping up my neck, making it's way to my hairline. The only good thing about the room was that there was no bugs on the walls (I hope,) clean sheets on the bed (I think,) and at least a little privacy for the changing of clothes (I wish.)

I stood on one side of the bed, facing the closed door, Zach stood on the other, facing the bathroom. It was what I had come up with, and was sticking to it (mostly because I was not wearing my best looking undergarments.) I pulled on my comfiest pair of sweat pants and a dark blue tank top, only standing without clothes on for about two seconds (you learn how to change fast when the bathroom's occupado and you're trying to hide the fact that it's that time to your friends.)

"You done yet?" I whispered, sitting down on the bed without my eyes leaving the wall. I heard Zach's grunted reply of "Yes" and the squeak of bedsprings as he sat down too. "So what was the point of dragging me out of Toronto?" I asked for about the billionth time. He sighed a fairly dramatic sigh as he flopped down on the bed. I stood up, pulled the sheets back, and crawled in, not even taking up a quarter of the bed.

"That's a secret, Gallagher Girl." He whispered, though I heard the strain in his voice. I knew whatever had made him come and take me was something bad, really bad. I sighed through my nose, flipping over to look at him. He laid on his back, eyes dancing across the ceiling. I propped myself up on my elbow, staring at him, taking in his harsh jaw line, the way his hair was falling on the pillow… He rolled his head over to look at me and I could see the pain in his shining green eyes.

"But if it affects me, I deserve to know!" I snapped, throwing my one arm up in the air. I noticed a twinkle of sadness in Zach's eye. Wait… Zachary Goode was sad? And I thought I saw everything when I saw Mr. Solomon crying.

"I know." And with that, he turned over, his back facing me. I sighed, and rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling. After about ten minutes, I heard Zach's breathing slow, and I concluded he was asleep. I crawled out of the bed, grabbed Zach's black hoodie, and slipped out the door, all without making a sound. I found the blue Corvette we had come in, and sprawled across the hood, staring up at the stars. I heard one of the motel doors open, and figured it was probably Zach coming to look for me. I sat up and looked towards the room I had come from. Not a soul wandered. My breathing sped up, and I look around the lot, my eyes finally landing on a broad shouldered figure walking my way.

"Hello?" I called. The figure paused slightly, as if trying to remember something. "Who are you?" I slid off the hood of the car, and started backing towards the Motel room.

"Cammie?" I heard Zach's groggy voice behind me, and I quickened my backward pace towards him, my eyes not leaving the figure advancing towards me. I sensed Zach come up beside me, and I stopped, hiding slightly behind him. I know I'm a spy, and I should be standing, ready to fight at Zach's side, but there's something about a tall, dark, and mysterious figure in a motel parking lot that makes a chill run down my spine. The figure reached out a hand, as if in peace. They stopped a few feet away, and I finally caught sight of the persons face. It actually surprised me. And a lot of things don't surprise me anymore. The only person that could catch me off-guard was…

"Josh?"


Macey POV

No. I couldn't have lost her. Not again. I ran up the alleyway, looking for any trace of her. I ran through the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of blonde hair or a sparkly black dress. But all I got was nothing. Cammie was fast. Cammie was good. Cammie was… gone. She knew CoveOps. She knew how to change her appearance with the snap of her fingers. And me? I was admitting defeat, and heading back to Roseville, Virginia for the second semester of my (technically) sophomore year, in a dingy old Pontiac, the radio blasting stupid pop songs all the way.

"Can I help you miss?" The security guard that chews a lot of bubblegum stopped me at the gates.

"I need to speak to Headmistress Morgan." I said lamely, shoving my hands in the pockets of the dress I hadn't bothered to change out of. My wig was itchy, my chin was sweaty, and my eyes were foggy. All I wanted to do was curl up on my bed and be home.

"Do you have an appointment?" He popped his gum and looked over his shoulder, probably expecting Mrs. Morgan to come through the doors and greet me.

"Not yet." I pushed past him and ran towards the school, his protesting shouts only making me run faster. As I pushed open the old oak doors, I could smell Chef's famous lasagne, and feel the stares of my sisterhood. Don't get me wrong, I would've been staring too if a woman I'd never seen before came bursting through the front doors of my school. I started to walk towards the staircase, dead set on going to Mrs. Morgan, then to bed. I pulled the wig off and threw it at Mick Morrison, letting my greasy black hair tumble down my shoulders (I hadn't showered for a few days, I was kinda busy driving.) I peeled off the chin adjustment, and dropped it to the floor beneath me. And finally, I paused for five seconds to pull the Hello Kitty contact case from my pocket, and slip the brown contacts in the solution. I handed it to Anna Fetterman as I passed, heading for the Grand Staircase. When I was almost at the top, I reached a jaw dropped Tina Walters. I put a finger under her chin and closed the big mouth of hers.

"Close up, honey." I tossed my hair over my shoulder. "It keeps the rumours out." I continued up the stairs, ignoring the silence of my sisters as I pushed open the Headmistress's door, being greeted by a "Welcome back, Ms. McHenry" and being tackled to the ground.


Now under most circumstances, being tackled by Rebecca Baxter is either a Protection-and-Enforcement thing or a payback's-a-bitch thing. Rarely ever a combination of both.

"Bex." I choked out. "I can't… breathe!" I wheezed as her knee dug into my ribcage.

"Good!" She snapped, tightening her hands around my arms. I know I could've been using my legs to get her off, but we hadn't covered how to get a Bex off you yet in P&E. I coughed, spewing saliva on her cheek, but she didn't seem to care.

"Ms. Baxter," A strict male voice came from behind Bex. "Please let Ms. McHenry go." Bex grumbled something very naughty (and in Portuguese) but reluctantly pulled me roughly to my feet. I rubbed my eyes and stared at the man before us. How did Mr. Solomon manage to get out of Toronto before me? And faster than me? Well he might've taken a plane…

"Macey." I turned to see Mrs. Morgan standing behind me. She smiled at me, and gave me an awkward hug. "Rebecca, Elizabeth, please excuse us." She grabbed my hand and pulled me into her office. Bex grumbled more words in Portuguese, as Liz gave a small wave and dashed out the door. Once they were gone, Mrs. Morgan sat stiffly in her chair, hands laced together. "Where have you been?" I shrugged non-chalantly.

"Places." Mrs. Morgan's shoulder's slumped the tiniest bit. She stole a glance at Mr. Solomon, then turned her attention back to me.

"Did you see Cammie?" It almost seemed that my headmistress and my teacher were both holding their breath for my answer. I plopped down on the sofa, crossing my legs.

"Maybe." Their breath released, and Mr. Solomon came over, sitting on the coffee table across from me.

"Did you speak?" He leaned forward, and toothpaste breath swept over me. I guess on his plane ride back, he kept up on hygiene.

"Small talk." I shrugged again, sinking farther into the couch. I want them to go away, I want to shower, then avoid Bex, and sleep (while avoiding Bex, which would probably mean little sleep.)

"About what, Ms. McHenry?" Joe Solomon was becoming impatient.

"Covers, jobs, no-" I didn't get a chance to finish.

"What's her cover name?" His eyes stared deep into mine, as I tried to hold back Cammie's cover, to keep her safe.

"Tabitha." I blurted, before I could stop myself. "Tabitha Richards. She's blonde haired, green eyed, and tall, fairly tall. She's studying architecture at the-" Again I didn't get to finish. Mrs. Morgan got out of the chair at her desk and started pacing.

"We need to get Abby." She said, tapping a finger on her chin. "Maybe the Baxter's… Where did you last see her?" She stopped a few feet from the door, not looking at either me or Solomon.

"Corner of Shuter Street and O'Keefe lane." I said, remember the small alleyway she'd disappeared in. "Downtown Toronto. By the Hard Rock Café." I exhaled slowly, staring at my dirty, blistered feet. Stupid flats. I looked up, to see Mr. Solomon and Mrs. Morgan share a worried glance.

"You may go." Joe said, getting off the coffee table, and heading to the door. "And Ms. McHenry?" I looked over at him, expecting him to scold me, or congratulate me, or some thing other than say: "See you in Sublevel Two."


Now you're probably wondering, What do you mean, Sublevel Two? Isn't Macey technically supposed to be in Sublevel One, since it's technically her sophomore year? Trust me, I'm thinking the exact same thing. See, I understand the typical boy mind, example, when he rakes his hands through his hair, he might be uneasy. I can sometimes understand the spy-boy mind, example, when he tells you to go looking for answers, he wants to come with you (an example proven true by Cammie and Zach.) But the one thing I will never understand is the spy-boy-teacher mind. That is something that makes no sense whatsoever.

"I don't get it!" Apparently, the above applies to Elizabeth Sutton as well. "I just don't get it!" Upon arriving in our suite, after the discussion that Bex and Liz so kindly listened in on, Liz has been trying to uncover what Mr. Solomon meant, and Bex… was being Bex. Sitting on her bed, glaring at me, then glaring at Liz, then glaring at her laptop, and back at me. I knew she forgave me, after all, I had found Cammie (sort of) but I knew part of her was holding back (the glaring part) because I had let her slip away (and it had taken me six months.)

I sighed, and headed to the chest at the end of my bed, picking out a pair of comfy pyjamas, and heading to the washroom. I stood in front of the mirror, bra and underwear, and stared at myself. Stared at Macey McHenry, the girl who had been lost for so long. My black hair was shined with grease, my blue eyes were dull and lifeless, and dirt was smudged on my body, head to toe. I ran my pinkie finger over a scar on my arm, one from that battle on the rooftop, lifetimes ago. It was a thin white line, running from my elbow around to my mid-forearm. It was something that tied me back to the life I used to have. Where I was kind of happy with who I was. Kind of proud of where I stood. Kind of depressed about a lot of things. But now… Now I don't know what to feel. There's so many things that have gone right, and gone wrong, that I just don't know anymore.

"Macey?" Liz's small voice came through the crack in the door. "You alright?" I stared at myself in the mirror. Was I alright?

"Sure." I splashed cold water on my face, then pulled on my pyjamas. I'll shower tomorrow morning, assuming Bex is feeling non-violent. I took one last look at myself before entering the bedroom, to see Bex, standing on her bed, a giddy look on her face. "Uh, Bex?" I cautiously walked towards my bed, dumping my dress and tights in a pile. I pulled back the sheets and climbed in, waiting for Bex to speak.

"I think I know where Cammie is."

And the end! Of chapter three… This took a little longer, I guess because I've been caught up making videos and stuff… Fanmade Gallagher Girls trailer up on Youtube! Just add you and stuff to - /watch?v=aB26fFeede0