Ever since I learned about Blackthorne, I've been having strange dreams. Dreams involving a boy. A green eyed boy. I feel like I know him, but a name never comes up. It's so frustrating. The dreams are always at the mall. I don't know why though. . .

Anyway, right now Bex and I are roaming a mall in D.C. For CoveOps, of course.

We're supposed to meet up with Solomon at the ruby slipper exhibit without tails. Emphasis on without tails. I was sticking with Bex, and we were just walking out of a store.

"Look at the bright side, Cam." Bex twirled. "We could be in Ancient Languages right now." Her twirl ended as she said, "We could be locked in the basement with Dr. Fibs." We laughed at this. That would be pure torture. "And the view is infinitely better," she said looking straight at these two boys who were looking at us. One of them was very familiar . . . as if from a memory or dream or something. "Oooh . . . I want one."

"They're not puppies."

"Come on. Let's go talk to them! They're really cute!" They were. One had blue eyes and dirty blonde hair that was in a buzz cut. The familiar one had green piercing eyes and dark hair that fell in his face. Suddenly, the different face of a boy with slightly lighter hair flashed in my mind. Weird. . .

"Bex, we have a mission!"

"Can't we multitask?" she pleaded.

"Think about last semester, and then you'll understand why I don't want to go over there."

"Wow. . . You're really . . ." Bex paused.

"What? I'm really what?"

"Not over Josh."

"Of course I am. . ." I answered and kept walking. Until my eyes landed on the boy from my dreams. The actual one. I could only see the side of his face as he talked to his friend, but I could tell who it was. Something told me I shouldn't see him, but something else told me I'd see him anyway.

I looked back at the bench kids. They were looking at me kind of strange. Turning Bex around and quickening my pace, I said, "Bex, we need to get away from here."

"Why? I want to talk to the boys on the bench!" she whined.

"Tail." My lie fell easily off my tongue.

Her spy skills were flipped on. "Lady in a beige suit, on a cell phone." I didn't even see her. Stupid boys. . .

After a few hours of loosing tails (and me making sure we didn't run into that one boy whose name I still don't remember), I was headed towards the elevator. I was about to press the elevator button, but another hand beat me to it. That hasn't happened in four years. At first I was thinking it was the boy I've been avoiding, but I looked up to see the green eyed boy from the bench.

"Hey," he said. This is too familiar. . .

"Hi?" I said nervously unsure if this would end like the first time. I repeatedly pressed the elevator button. It didn't go faster. When the elevator doors finally opened, I didn't waste time darting in. He came in a little slower, leaning on the railing.

After a few moments of silence, he pointed to the crest on my shirt, "The Guggenheim-"

"Gallagher," I corrected.

"Never heard of it."

I wanted to say, 'Because you're not supposed to,' but that would blow my cover and it's rude. So I sharply replied with, "Well, it's my school."

"You in a hurry or something?" he asked.

"I have to meet my teacher somewhere in twenty minutes," I said trying not to give away too much like last time.

"How do you know?"

"Because he said, 'Meet me at the ruby slippers exhibit.'" DAMN IT!

"No, I mean how do you know you have twenty minutes? You're not wearing a watch."

Josh never noticed I didn't have a watch. . . With slight hesitation, I said, "My friend just told me." He nodded. Once the elevator opened, I walked four steps and noticed his footsteps behind me. I spun around to face him. "Where are you going?"

"I thought we were going to meet your teacher in the wonderful Land of Oz," he responded cockily. As another boy I know would. . .

"We?" I asked.

"Sure. I'm going with you."

"No, you're not."

"Look, its dark. You're alone, and this is D.C," he said, sounding way too much like Dream Boy.

"Fine," I said and turned around, walking faster.

"You walk fast." I ignored him. "You got a name?"

"Sure. Lots of them." Now I'm repeating history.

"You got a boyfriend?" I stopped short and almost tripped. I hate this question. I turned around and tried really hard not to glare at him.

"Thanks for the chivalry and all, but it really isn't necessary. It's just up there, and there's a cop over there," I said. I can't let this end like last time.

"You think that cop can protect you better than I can?" Of course I do.

"No, I think if you don't leave me alone, I can scream and that cop will arrest you," I said threateningly. He got the message and backed away. "Thanks anyway." I couldn't help thinking he would come back to haunt me. I shook the feeling and took an alternate route to the exhibit to get rid of last minute tails.

I walked into the exhibit and Mr. Solomon said, "You're four seconds late."

"But I'm alone."

"No, Ms. Morgan, you're not." What?

Then Green Eyes (hmm. . .) stalked in from his place in the shadows. My eyes widened, and he smirked a familiar smirk. "Hi, Gallagher Girl."

"Nice work, Zach," Mr. Solomon said. Some godfather he turned out to be. . .

"Hi Blackthorne Boy," I said, and watched as they stood there shocked.

Mr. Solomon recovered. "Very good, Ms. Morgan." Soon after that, Mr. Solomon took me back to the helicopter and we went back to Gallagher, where there aren't boys who beat me.

Hopefully.