Hey guys! I'm back, and sorry for the CRAZY long wait! Here's the next chapter, but it's a bit shorter than usual though... because I need to get back into the swing of things. J
Macey's POV
"So, what happens now?" I casually leant against the wall of the cinema. I spied a group of boys eyeing me approvingly and a few girls gasping and pointing at me, but I ignored them with the professional ease of a top spy.
"Now… I suppose we wait," she sighed. "The email isn't really specific, is it?"
"We shouldn't have come," I sighed and bit my lip nervously. "I have a bad feeling about this… Something's sure to go wrong. I mean, it's all a bit vague. Come to the cinema at this time and only bring Macey. That was pretty much it."
"Everything's fine," Bex assured me. "We're armed, remember?"
"With two knives, napotine patches and our bodies," I rolled my eyes. "They've got something called guns. And they use them, unlike the CIA."
"We'll be fine," she muttered, though it seemed a bit doubtful to me.
"Whatever."
One of the giggling girls, pushed forward by her friends, approached us. "Excuse me…?"
Bex blinked in surprise and I rolled my eyes upwards to the heavens, hoping she wasn't going to ask what I thought she was.
She did. "Are you… are you Macey McHenry?"
"No," I smiled warmly at her. "We look very alike and people sometimes mistake me for her, but the answer is no."
"Oh…" Her face fell and she walked back to her friends, shaking her head.
"People these days," I muttered sarcastically, so low that only Bex could hear. She chuckled, but she was still carefully aware of everything around us, as was I.
A woman brushed past Bex as she was on her way to the toilets. Bex blinked and brought her eyes up to mine. After so many joint missions, I knew that it meant she had found something. She discreetly flashed two tickets at me and I realised the woman had brush passed Bex, a simple but ingenious method.
"Let's go watch a movie," I grinned.
Cammie's POV
"Hey," a voice whispered softly from the doorway, seeming scared to enter.
I pointedly swivelled away from the owner of the voice, that annoying, silky voice that I had once (once, and never again!) loved. My arms were clasped around my knees as I hugged them tightly. I resisted the urge to rock back and forth – not because I didn't want to make Zach guilty; it's just that it was because it was becoming a bad habit.
With a sigh, Zach crossed the room and sat on the sofa. He wasn't doing anything; he merely watched as I gazed out of the window, with my hardened expression. Eventually, after about ten minutes of doing nothing, Zach burst out, "Cammie, say something… please! The silence is killing me."
Slowly, ever so slowly, I raised my eyes to his, careful to keep my (hopefully non-existent) emotions under check. "Where's Morgan? I haven't seen at all apart from in meal times. What does my daughter do during the day? Does she-?"
"Our," he interrupted suddenly.
"What do you mean?" The crease in my brow deepened as I furrowed it.
"Our, as in our daughter," he whispered, and I could tell he was wishing he could take the words back; he was terrified that I would reject what he had just said and widen the hate between us.
I took the opportunity to do so and scowled, "She might be half you, but that doesn't mean she's yours!"
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"And stop acting so careful around me," I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. "I hate it. Everyone's treating me like I'm going to break any second. I don't want to be treated any different from anyone else."
"Sorry," he repeated.
"Ugh." I groaned in frustration and swivelled to face the window, for what seemed like the fiftieth time this week.
Zach came to sit next to me on the bed. "Cammie…"
"Get away from me."
He ignored my words. "Cammie, I know you don't want me to be anywhere near you, but can't you just put that aside for one moment? I have something really important to say."
I scowled, but eventually nodded. "Fine, but make it quick."
"You need to run away with me."
"Why would I do that?" I spluttered, jumping to my feet and gave an intensifying glare. "Zachary Goode, I don't know who you think you are, but there is nothing in this world that would make me run away with you."
"Really?" he raised his eyebrows and smirked. Oh, that horrible smirk was doing my head in. "Even if it was putting Catherine in danger?"
"Why would Catherine be in danger?" I demanded frantically. Then I realised how desperate I had sounded and hastily corrected it by clearing my throat and repeating it in a business-like manner. I wasn't the only one who slipped up, though. I noticed the flash of jealousy in his eyes when I got emotional about Catherine.
"This runaway escape plan was designed by her. She even organised a meeting with me in the middle of nowhere for it and probably risked her life in the process. Do you really want to repay her by not doing what she asked? And you call yourself her best friend. It would be like going against a dead person's last wish."
I thought for a moment, but still shook my head stubbornly. "I'm not going. She's not dead yet. I'll just run back to the Circle and save Catherine."
His smirk vanished. "You weren't kidding about your non-existent emotions. Cammie, Catherine is going to die if you get found, because she's the one spreading rumours within the Circle that you're in various places across the globe. If they find you at Gallagher or trying to free Catherine from her prison cell, they won't only kill you. Catherine and Morgan will be dead too."
I scowled. "And I suppose with this 'brilliant plan' Morgan is just going to stay here where the Circle could kill her? I won't go if she doesn't come along."
"No, Catherine has other plans for her," he replied. "She said it's just me and you –no one else can be in on it… According to the plan, whoever's taking Morgan will bring her to us in a couple of weeks."
"Ugh, I have to spend two whole weeks with you?" I groaned. "Why couldn't it be Macey?"
His answer came without hesitation. "Let's face it: I'm the best agent she can trust not to be a secret spy for the Circle… and she knows that I would jump in front of you if a bullet was flying towards your face."
There was a long awkward silence. What was I supposed to say to that? Was I supposed to lie and say 'ditto'? Or should I say 'I hate you'?
Finally, I spoke. "Fine, I'll go with you, Goode, but let's make it clear that this is no victory for you and your player ways. This is strictly for my family, not for you."
Macey's POV
"What do you want?" Bex demanded coldly.
Catherine laughed. "For the 'good guys', you CIA agents aren't really that polite. Even the 'bad guys' are… although it's all a fake show."
"Get to the point," Bex hissed. "We haven't got all day."
"Short and straight to the point," she observed, with a small smile on her face. "Cammie was just the same, but she's learned real manners by now. It's much more pleasant to have a bit of small talk before you get to the serious stuff."
"This is a waste of time!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms into the air in exasperation. Some people at the front yelled at me to shut up. Catherine rolled her eyes, but her facial expression became more serious.
"It really isn't," she whispered. "I've made a plan for Cammie to leave Gallagher, because she's in danger there – and so is the rest of the school. But you're not part of that plan. You're part of Morgan's."
"So what do you want us to do?" Bex looked suddenly interested.
Catherine leaned forward and took a folder out of her handbag. "All the details are in here, though you must understand that this is for your eyes only. Others are allowed to be involved, but you two are the only ones who can know where Morgan is."
"So not even Cammie can see it?" It was me who spoke. "I mean… Morgan's her daughter, right? Wouldn't Cammie be worried if her daughter suddenly disappeared?"
"I suspect she'll be too busy spending time with Zach," she mumbled, a small laugh escaping from her lips.
My jaw dropped open, but I hastily closed it, hoping that it was too dark for anyone to see. Then I grinned flippantly, impressed at this woman's abilities. "You managed to get them together? You, ma'am, are a genius."
"Well, not exactly," she grimaced modestly. "I didn't get them back together. That's would be a bit weird, seeing as I consider them both my children. No, right now Cammie is probably sulking and ignoring Zach, while Zach is trying to lighten the mood. It will be a while before they get anywhere close."
"How long is 'a while'?" Bex demanded and her dark orbs narrowed into slits.
Catherine shrugged. "It won't be long. Knowing Cammie and Zach, they'll fall in love in a couple of days."
"And they'll fall hard," I added, just imagining the way Zach and Cammie were when we were in high school. They were both so crazy about each other, but they had serious denial problems and were both so stubborn that they vowed not to admit their crushes on each other until the other did.
"That's the plan," Catherine spread into a toothy grin. "And we need Morgan to be safe too, which is it your jobs."
"I like it," I approved, tilting my head to look at Bex in a sidelong glance. "Are you in?"
"I don't like trusting a killer. And doing deals with them is against the law," she mumbled uncomfortably. "But Cammie needs our help. I'll do it."
Cammie's POV
"What are you doing?" I placed my hands on my hips and shot him a half-disapproving, half-amused look as I stared at the man crouching on the floor in the bathroom. He was wielding a wrench like a weapon and peering into the basin of my toilet intently like it would give him answers or instructions.
He spun around to face me with a look of surprise, which quickly faded into a boyish grin. He waved the wrench. "This is our ticket out of here. I'm using it, Cammie."
"Well, I just came in to say that I've finished packing," I told him, holding up a small black handbag. I had picked it especially because it didn't stand out. It wasn't too flashy and didn't stand out, like everything I owned.
"That was quick," he mused, standing up and brushing himself off to talk to me easier. There was a dark patch on his large grey top, marking where the toilet water had hit him. I snorted, but he decided to ignore it and continued, "You know, most women would need a huge suitcase to fit everything in. And you're standing here with a handbag the size of my shoe. What have you got in there?"
"Just a couple of clothes that I've never worn before," I replied. "The Circle would recognise everything else. I'll buy something while we're on the run. Speaking of which, can you tell me where we're going?"
"No." His lips pressed together tightly as he stubbornly folded his arms over his chest. "And don't try manipulating me. I'm not telling you or you might run."
"Why would I do that?"
He sighed. "You'd probably try to free Catherine or join Morgan in her own expedition."
"Excuse me!" I exploded. "You might not care for your own daughter or mother, but I do! You can't blame me for wanting to be with them! They might be your blood, but they're my family!"
"I do," he murmured, almost inaudible to my ears.
"No, they're my family! Wait, what did you say?"
"I do," he repeated, now in a stronger tone. "I do care for them… well, maybe not my mother. But I care for my daughter – our daughter."
"She's not your daughter," I growled.
He frowned. "But… you just said…"
"I know what I said! It's just you're always so… Ugh!"
For a few silent seconds, his eyes searched mine for lies, but found an impenetrable wall come up instead. The hopeful look in his eyes dissolved into a helpless one. His faith that the old Cammie was somehow still there had been crushed, swatted like a fly. His shoulders slumped, and the hand holding the wrench shook ever so slightly as he slid back onto the floor. When he next spoke, it sounded like he was struggling to hold back tears. "I'll… I'll just… get back to dealing with the toilet."
A small tug in the pit of my stomach had me instinctively crouching next to Zach, before I even knew what was happening. It was almost like I was feeling something… but that was impossible. The injections and therapy combined with my absolute hatred for Zach made sure of that. The old Cammie wasn't there anymore. She hadn't come back, right?
I pushed my troubling thoughts of Zach to the back of mind as I crooned reassuringly, "Hey, I'll rephrase what I said. I'm okay with you caring for Morgan."
"You are?" The hope was back in his glistening green orbs.
"Yeah, Morgan could do with a dad, even if I hate him," I said in a muffled voice and my hands found his. At his touch, he jolted from surprise and a shock of electricity that I knew both of us felt. What was I getting myself into? First telling him I don't mind him being Morgan's dad and then holding his hand?!
"Thanks," he smiled weakly and then laughed sadly. "You must think I'm so sappy and unmanly. You're right, I'm so 'ugh'."
"Sometimes that sort of father is good for a young girl. Not all the time of course, but a sensitive guy is better than an indifferent one."
He smirked half-heartedly, while a lone tear rolled down his cheek (which he hastily wiped away). "So you're saying I'm better than other guys."
"Keep dreaming, lover boy," I rolled my eyes. "I was talking about father-daughter relationships. And you're definitely not my daddy."
"I hope not." Looking slightly reluctant, he took his hand out of mine again to hold the wrench. My own hand felt slightly empty without Zach's there… What was I saying?
I shook the thoughts out of my head once more. "What do you think you're doing?"
"You asked that before, remember?"
"No, I meant why are you trying to escape through the toilet?"
"Look at the blueprints." He absentmindedly handed me some blueprints of the school's sewerage system.
I chucked them into the bin. "I memorised that before the first year had gone by. And it was through first-hand experience, not just by staring at the blueprints."
"Why did you do that?" He looked at the bin in shock, like he couldn't believe I had just thrown the blueprints in the recycling bin. "You might have memorised the whole school, but I haven't!"
"Well, I thought we could make a more dignified exit," I shrugged. "But if you'd rather crawl through a hundred girls' waste, that's fine by me too."
He jumped to his feet. "I should have guessed you'd have a set of passageways you know."
"And it's just here," I gestured around us, at the bathroom we were standing in. I pressed my finger to the top corner of a tile and slid it down to the bottom. A narrow tunnel opened up before us.
"You ready?" I asked.
"You bet on it," he smiled.