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Chapter 5

"What are we doing?" Grant mumbled to me as we took our seats in the front of the van. Mr. Solomon had left us for a bit so now we were free to talk. It felt weird being the only guys here but I had no complaints.

"I have no clue," I responded. "We're probably going to Roseville with the girls or something." Grant nodded before smiling foolishly.

"Finally," he said. "I can't wait for some action." I couldn't deny my excitement either. We hadn't done any practical stuff since that one day at the mall when we first met the Gallagher Girls. That was probably one of the happiest days in my spy life

Before I could answer, the door to the van opened up and then eight girls, Mr. Solomon, and… Dr. Steve poured in. I saw Cammie study me briefly as I sat by Mr. Solomon, and I kept my breath calm. The girls were muttering excitedly, but I was oblivious to all of them, waiting for our teacher to speak.

Instead, I got Dr. Steve. "I say, Mr. Solomon," Dr. Steve droned on, "you've done an excellent job with these young ladies. Just excellent."

Now I really had to know what we were doing. It couldn't be throwing someone out of a moving van, right? I know Mr. Solomon lectured on rolling exists the week before, but Dr. Steve was driving so it would be a hazard to us to throw him out.

"You ladies need to pay attention to this man," Dr. Steve continued, forgetting about the gents in the car. "He's a living legend."

"Just as long as they remember the most important part of that is the living," Mr. Solomon said and I shuddered, knowing what could happen to a spy if they got caught.

I felt the van stop at the Academy's front gates, then turn right and start down a road I knew Cammie knew well.

"Today's about the basics, ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Solomon said, actually acknowledging that there were two guys in the car, unlike Dr. Steve. "I want to watch you move; see you work together." This reminded me of the mysterious talk Mr. Solomon and I had at the cafeteria the other day--the working together part I mean. "Pay attention to your surroundings, and remember--half of your success in this business comes from looking like you belong, so today your cover is that you're a bunch of private-school students enjoying a trip down town." This was simple enough. Anyone could pull this off, especially since this was partly true.

"What are we really?" the girl named Bex Baxter asked.

"A bunch of spies"--Mr. Solomon pulled a quarter from his pocket and gave it a flip-- "playing tag." Before the quarter had even landed in his palm, I knew this wasn't going to be heads or tails.

"Brush pass, Ms. Baxter," Mr. Solomon said. "Define it."

"The act of covertly passing an object between two agents," came her quick reply.

"Correct," Mr. Solomon approved. I felt Cammie glance at me and my heart flopped. I tried to ignore that and concentrate on the mission. Sure, brush passes were pretty elementary, but there was obviously a reason for bringing them up. Just like there was a reason for Mr. Solomon talking to me in the cafeteria. "The little things can get away from you, ladies and gentlemen. The little things matter." Too true.

"So right you are," Dr. Steve chimed in. I almost forgot he was there, but being the spy I am, I couldn't forget (unfortunately). "As I was telling Headmistress Morgan just this--"

"It's you and the street today," Mr. Solomon said, ignoring Dr. Steve. I applauded him. "Today's test might be low tech, but this is trade craft at its most essential." Still, there was no way I could mess up a brush pass, even if I was going to work with girls.

He pulled a small box from beneath his seat, and I instantly recognized the cache of comms units and tiny cameras that were concealed within pins and earrings, tie clips and sliver crosses. They looked exactly like the ones Cammie used last quarter. This school was really into looking religious, at least to the public anyway.

"Watch. Listen," Mr. Solomon said. "Remember to communicate. Observe."

Some girl--Kim Lee I think--was struggling to pin an American flag-pin-slash-camera onto her goat, and then Grant said, "Allow me," and she batted her eyelashes and swooned a little as he helped her. Go Grant!

"Pair off," Solomon continued his instructions as the van stopped. "Blend in, and remember, we'll be watching."

I looked at Grant and waited outside the doors but then I heard Mr. Solomon say, "Oh no, Ms. Morgan. I believe you already have a partner."

***

Well Mr. Solomon was definitely taking this future partner thing seriously, not that I really minded. And as I made my way with Cammie, I knew that Mr. Solomon was true to his word about both the partner thing and making this mission hard. Because everyone knows pedestrian traffic is the key for trying to covertly pass something between two agents and the streets today were pretty close to bare. Plus it was cold and gloves made it more difficult to brush pass, but not difficult enough to not achieve.

"Come on, Gallagher Girl," I said to my hesitating partner as I headed for the square. "This should be fun." I strode to the center where a gazebo stood and I could tell that this small town hasn't changed in years.

"So," I said as I stretched out on the steps of the gazebo, "come here often?"

Cammie merely shrugged and replied, "I used to, but then the deputy director of the CIA made me promise to stop." Oh yeah. I forgot about that. So this was where she and Josh used to come. I laughed a quiet, half-laugh and squinted up at Cammie though the sun.

In my earpiece, I heard Mr. Solomon say, "Okay, Ms. Walters, you're it. Be aware of your casual observers, and let's make those passes quick and clean."

I saw Tina and Eva hand each other the quarter. If I didn't know they held a quarter in their hand, I never would know they handed each other something. "Well done," Mr. Solomon praised.

I tilted my head back, and half closed my eyes so I could observe everything behind me. The sun warmed my cheeks and I knew I looked like I came here my entire life.

"So what about you?" Cammie asked, breaking the silence. "Exactly where does the Blackthorne Institute call home?" That's the last place she would want to be I'm sure.

"Oh." I cocked an eyebrow. "That's classified."

I could see that she was dissatisfied with my answer and I would be too. But I made a vow I wouldn't spread any information around, especially when everyone was probably listening to us through the comms. "So you can sleep inside the walls of my school, but I can't even know where yours is?" That's right, Gallagher Girl.

I laughed again but not in a mocking way. She could never understand my school, which concealed dangerous secrets even I didn't know (or would want to know). "Trust me, Gallagher Girl, you wouldn't want to sleep in my school." I knew that wasn't an answer but that was the most I could give.

The second time through my comms unit, I heard Mr. Solomon say, "Two men are playing chess in the southwest corner of the square. How many moves from checkmate is the man in the green cap, Ms. Baxter?"

Bex replied "Six" without even breaking stride as she and Grant strolled to the opposite side of the street.

"What do you mean? Why can't you tell me?" Cammie asked. I really wanted to tell her. I really didn't want to have secrets all of the time, but that's what you get when you're a spy. Sometimes you can't even tell someone who's close to you. I wonder how Cammie felt when her dad was missing and no one could tell her what really happened…

"Just trust me, Gallagher Girl." I straightened on the gazebo steps, placed my elbows on my knees, and tried to will her to trust me with my eyes. I hoped she could understand what I was talking about. "Can you trust me?"

A torn and fades movie ticket blew across the grass. Mr. Solomon said, "Ms. Morrison, you just passed three parked cars on Main Street; what were their tag numbers?" and Mick rattled off her response. But I ignored her. All I did was stare at Cammie, begging her with my eyes to trust me, but she didn't look at me. Instead, she saw in the reflection of the pharmacy window Eva, who drop the quarter in the open bag at Courtney's feet.

Through my comms unit, Mr. Solomon warned, "There was an ATM behind you, Ms. Alvarez. ATMs equal cameras. Tighten it up ladies."

I nodded and couldn't help but compliment a former Blackthorne alumni, "Solomon's good."

"Yeah he is," Cammie agree with me.

"They say you're good, too," I complimented her, remembering her file, remembering Mr. Solomon and our conversation. I think I surprised her but the shock on her face was well concealed.

"Okay, Zach," Mr. Solomon said to me. "Without turning around, tell me how many windows overlook the square from the west side." That's an easy one. I had already seen everything behind me when I leaned back on the gazebo.

"Fourteen," I answered without leaving Cammie's ehe. She truly was amazing. I couldn't believe that she couldn't see it. "They say you're a real pavement artist." I leaned back on the steps again, not waiting for her response. "You know, it's probably a good thing we got to tail you in D.C. If you'd been following me, I probably never would have seen you."

I sat, waiting for some cute sassy comeback, but instead, she left. Her face was a rock as turned the corner. In the comms, I heard Bex say "I'm sorry" and I knew without a doubt that Cammie now had the quarter.

"Nice pass, Ms. Baxter," Mr. Solomon's voice rang through the comms. What was I supposed to do now? Was I supposed to follow Cammie or just stay here? Why did she leave? I couldn't decide what to do.

But that was when I heard a new voice through the comms. That voice made my stomach churl with jealousy. And that voice said, "Cammie, is that you?" Then I realized that Cammie would never think I'm good enough. Not ever. I wouldn't be the guy she would sneak out of school for. I wouldn't be the guy who passed her secret notes (unless it were for mission purposes). I wouldn't be the guy she wanted. I sat there, trying to become myself again. I've never discovered self-doubt before. I was confident. I was strong. I was tough. So I collected myself and waited for my partner, but not before I allowed a brief second of self-conscioness sweep through me.

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