My eyes hurt when we are finally done looking at every single detail of the pictures. And I mean every detail. I will have the pictures of the enemy operatives engraved into my brain for eternity.
I feel my eyes get heavy and they begin to droop. Through half-closed lids, I see the other girls trudge towards their beds like the weight of the world is on their shoulders.
I drag my feet to my messy bed and throw myself down on it, not bothering to pull the covers over me. The mattress bends beneath my weight and bounces back. I settle into the pillows and close my eyes. I don't have time to think about my stressful day, I just let sleep pull me under.
"Jonas, Grant." I say, demanding their immediate attention. We needed to get this task done. I know I said before that I wouldn't let Cameron come into the spy life, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to complete my assigned mission. "Give me a report. What'd you find?"
Jonas, the more organized of the two, starts rattling off information. He picks up his clipboard and I smirk. He made a stupid list to organize all the information. "I found some information about Cameron Morgan. The CIA database had barely any information on her and I couldn't access any more: Security measures were too tough for me to crack."
Grant gapes at him, and I'll admit that even I was a little amazed. Jonas was amazing with computers. I had never met-or heard- of anyone that could beat him at it.
Oblivious to the looks we were giving him, Jonas continues. "But I did find out that the school will not be making any scheduled trips away from the campus, but that is subject to change. And I got the blueprint of the academy on my laptop. I've already memorized it so I can guide you through the school after you enter via commas but you may want to look at it yourself."
Grant and I grab the laptop off the nearby coffee table and run our eyes over it multiple times. Grant points out the gates of the school to me and where he positioned multiple cameras. He also shows me the easiest route to the girls' rooms. The school was big and I hoped I could find my way through it at night.
"Got it," we both say at the same time.
"How is that possible!?" Jonas asks, confused. "For the brain to commit an entire blueprint should take multiple hours, not a few seconds! I'll need to recheck my data, recalculate the-"
"Jonas," I stop him before he goes off on his rant. He hates to reconsider his earlier work. "Remember," I say slowly, pointing to Grant and myself, "we're trained spies."
"Oh. Ok? I still have to change my theory on memorization, though."
I smile and shake my head. Jonas will always be Jonas.
I turn my head to look out the large bay windows on one side of the lobby. Stars shine brightly against the backdrop of darkness. The moon hangs high in the sky already. Where did time go?
"Time to go boys."
My eyes shoot open. I listen, but all is quiet. Grit is crusted around my eyes and they burn in the darkness.
The soft, even breathing of my roommates and the growling of my stomach are the only things I hear.
I slowly sit up, careful of my movements, and try to slow my racing heart. Climbing out of bed, I pad barefoot across the rough carpet and cautiously open the door. Before I leave, I glance in the mirror. I am wearing my favorite blue cami and black short shorts as pajamas and my hair is a tangled mess. I would fix it, but that would take too long and no one is going to see me.
I walk softly through the halls and they look different in the dark. The moonlight shines through the large windows and reflects off the tiled floor, turning the black-silver. A breeze blows in through one of the windows overlooking the side-yard.
"Watch out for the laser beam to your right."
I carefully side-step it as I make my way over the snowy lawn of Gallagher Academy.
The ivy-covered wall towers over me and I tilt my head up to look at it. It's big, but I've climbed bigger. I reach a few feet above my head and grip the tightly packed stone. My foot easily finds a hold and I quickly make it up the wall.
I see a window to my right. It's obviously locked.
"Hacker," I say using Jonas's codename, "can you see if there are any trick wires attached to the window to my right?" I hear furious typing in my ear.
"You're clear."
I pull out some of my equipment and set to work on opening the window. It takes some elbow grease but I finally get it open.
Using my muscular arms, I swing myself inside. My shoes make no sound as I land gracefully on the balls of my feet. The mansion is dark and the moonlight reflects off the well-polished tile.
I press my back to the wall and sneak towards the dorms.
"Which way do I need to go?"
I hear some mumbling in my ear but I don't get a clear answer.
"Greek God! I swear if you are distracting Hacker I am going to kill you."
"Sorry, boss! I won't anymore... but if you have to go into any sleeping girls rooms, make sure you turn on the camera, okay?"
I groan. Grant is always a pervert, no matter where he is. And sneaking into an all-girls' school must be overwhelming for him.
"Shut up, Greek God!" I whisper too loudly. Grant better shape up, but before I can tell him to do so, the feed goes out. I'm alone, in a school I'm not supposed to be in.
I give up trying to see in the shadows and step out into the light coming from the window. A gasp rings through the room. I freeze; the worst thing to do. All is quiet though, so I write it off as a sound that came through the window on the breeze.
I continue down the hallway, but I don't get far.
A muted thud comes from behind me. I spin and try to come up with some excuse for why I am out of bed in the middle of the night. Should I run and get back to my dorm? Or should I stay and home to win the teacher's favor?
I see the shadows move and instinct tells me it isn't a teacher or classmate. Raising my hands in defense, I sneak back towards the wall and do what I do best, disappear.
Eyes peer through the darkness and I see a pale face attached to it. The figure is still invisible, clothed in black, and I see why when they step into the light.
My eyes run over his body, memorizing every detail so I can analyze it later. As I do so, a memory tugs at the back of my mind, trying to break free. I can tell it's important, but for the life of me, I can't remember.
Frustrated, I focus back in on him. He has broad shoulders and muscular arms. He is tall, but not skinny, and has an athletic look.
I tilt my head to search his face for recognition. He hasn't seen me yet, but I'm afraid he'll hear me when I cover a gasp.
He turns his head slightly my way at the sound, his back now stiff. He knows he's not alone. Apparently satisfied when he doesn't hear anything else, he continues in the direction he had before.
I hear his breath, and the sharp hiss of words. He's wearing a comms unit. I can't believe it. He's the guy from the bar. He's been watching me and following me. He broke into Gallagher Academy, the one place I thought I was safe.
Anger turns my vision red and this time when I look over him, I look for his weaknesses.
As he starts across the moonlit floor, I see he has a slight limp on his right leg. When he climbed in the window-which I figure he did-he must have gotten hurt.
His eyes repeatedly blink and I realize his biggest disadvantage: He doesn't know anything about where he is going. He's walking around in an unfamiliar building, in the dark, and trying to not get caught. I smile wickedly. I have the home court advantage. I know the mansion like the back of my hand and maybe more than anyone besides Gillian Gallagher.
Using the advantage of bare feet, I pad cautiously across the Grand Hall and my sweaty feet stick to the cool tile. As I step behind him, I sweep my bare leg underneath him, trying to knock him down. He anticipates the move and jumps gracefully over my extended leg. When he lands, he spins to face his attacker: Me.
I see his arm swing, trying to hit me. But as soon as he completes the rotation, my foot connects with his stomach. A flash of pain sweeps through my ankle but I ignore, instead watching the enemy operative in front of me.
He double over and gasps, never looking up to see who I am. The look on his face is full of confusion, surprise, and a hint of anger. His hands cover his abdomen and I aim another well-placed kick there, bruising both hands and knocking him over.
But he can't see me. That would blow my cover, what little cover I have left. He doesn't know who I am yet, and I want to keep it that way.
I race over to him. Using my bare-foot, I kick him in the stomach while he's down. It doesn't cause as much damage as I had hoped, but it does the job and he flips over to cover the unprotected area, leaving his back open. I quickly straddle his back before he can move. I lean down and shove his face into the floor, my nails digging into the soft skin of his cheek.
"Do you know how much I want to kill you right now?" I ask angrily through gritted teeth. "Do you have any idea?!"
I move my hand to his ear and smash his head between my fingers and the ground even more. It had to hurt. When he moved, if he ever moved from that spot beneath me, there would be a line etched into the side of his chiseled features from the grout between the tiles.
"No idea," he grunts. I know I am not the heaviest girl or as strong as Bex, but he flips me off of him like I weigh nothing. I land hard on my tailbone and roll backwards, landing on the balls of my feet.
As he stands, I run behind him. But he's faster and sees me move. He throws a curved punch aimed for my jaw that would have easily knocked out half of my teeth, or worse, knocked me out.
I duck like I am trained to and throw my own punch. He turns his head and my fist brushes his jaw line. Stubble rakes down my knuckles and as soon as I complete the swing I drag my fist back to protect my face.
Both of us swing, duck, and counter the other's moves for a few minutes, always ready, never letting down our guard. Soon enough I am panting and sweat trickles down my neck and seeps into my cami.
I see the boy getting tired too and anger is the only thing that keeps me fueled.
Finally, I see an opening and use the Baxter maneuver, which was obviously invented by my kick-ass friend, Bex.
The boy slams into the wall of windows. The curtain next the open window ripples in the wind and shivers race across my bare skin. The fabric flutter towards the guy and he reaches for it.
But I dive towards him. His head slams into the marble behind him. Before I can pin his arms with my legs he reaches out for my throat.
His calloused thumbs brush against my neck and I shudder. Surprisingly... it had felt good. I mentally berate myself, angry at the direction of my thoughts considering the situation.
He never gets a chance to close his hands around my throat. I push him down the hall till we are in front of the window. We continue throwing punches. I let out a cry of pain when my knuckles connect with the marble lining the walls. I cradle my hand to my chest for a split second before assuming the fighting stance.
I look to the window for inspiration, I can't keep fighting for much longer. The open pane angles outward and it's the perfect chance.
Using momentum from a punch I previously swung, I bring both hands close together in a butterfly, to have the most contact, and shove. My fury gives me more strength. It isn't a spy maneuver so I know the enemy operative doesn't expect it.
The top of his body leans precariously out the window. His arms pin wheel wildly and I smile. Deep inside me, I know he's not going to make it back inside. Not while I'm standing there. I'll make sure of it.
As he realizes that fact himself, a mixture of emotions break across his face. Surprise, pain, and fear. Huh. Fear. I never thought someone would be afraid of me. Or maybe he's just afraid of dying on impact from falling out of a window.
And lastly, as his eyes meet mine and he really looks at me for the first time, recognition registers.
"You?" He breathes before gravity pulls him down. His eyes close as he spreads his arms wide. The look on his face is one I will never forget for the rest of my life. It looks like he's accepting his fate. His body tumbles gracefully through the air.
I stumble away from the open window, tripping over my feet, and stand there numbly. He went, just like that. He fought his hardest and he knew he was going to die. He didn't try in the end. Was dying easier than going back to whoever sent him?
As my mind runs over this thought, I feel a quick sadness for him. His life was worse than mine. It was crazier and mine was sure crazy.
My pity disappears instantly when I come back to reality. He came to my home. He broke in. He tried to hurt me and succeeded. He damaged my image of safety of Gallagher Academy. These walls can no longer protect me.
I listen closely to the sounds blowing through the window with the breeze. No thump, no thud, no crash. I sprint to the window and lean out.
The crisp wind peels my dirty-blonde hair off my sticky forehead. It floats weightlessly and blows around my face. I stare down. I don't see him. He's gone.
Just like that.
When I had broken into the Gallagher Academy, I hadn't expected trouble. I thought it would be an easy enough mission: Break in, get Cameron Morgan, and walk out.
But luck wasn't on my side today.
I'm still in shock that she beat me. A girl beat me. I'm kind of... in awe too. And it was Cameron, I know it was.
She had looked amazing with the moon light on her face. Her hair had been messy, but it was cute. And her legs, they weren't as long as some girls' I know but they were tanned and muscular. Her arms were strong and...
I jerk myself from my thoughts, surprised not only that I would be picturing Cameron like that, but also that I could even feel those thoughts at all.
She obviously hated me. When she had looked at me with those amazing brown eyes, before pushing me out of the window, I could see it in them. And she had said she had wanted to kill me. But I couldn't blame her.
I had broken into her school, tried to harm her many times, and I had followed her. Not exactly a good way to get a girl to like you.
I sigh and sit on the edge of the hotel bed. I had failed my mission another time. But we would strike again tomorrow, and we will succeed this time.
