"Did you see My Mother: The Spy last night?"

"What?" Grace asked, looking over at her friend in confusion.

"My Mother: The Spy..." She repeated. "Did you see it?"

"Oh," Grace said, shaking her head. "No."

"It was like the best episode they've had all season! First, Lucy's mom gets this death threat, and then, these agents show up to keep an eye on the family, and then, Lucy's dad shows up and he's a spy now too, and..."

"There's no way that would ever happen," Grace said, rolling her eyes.

"Come on, Grace, the show isn't supposed to be realistic! If it was, it would be called reality TV, and I wouldn't like it anymore."

Grace shook her head with a small chuckle before she paused, having spotted Trevor.

"Hey, Grace," he said, looking over at her.

"Hi," she murmured, timidly.

"So, my brother said he'll take us to the dance. Pick you up?"

"Uh-huh..." She whispered in awe.

"Grace, I told you you're grounded," her mother said with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Trevor, but she can't come out tonight."

"Mom!" She cried, looking at her mother before she looked back at Trevor. "I'm sorry, she's..."

"Look, I gotta go," Trevor said with a disgusted look.

She turned back to her mother. "I hate you!"

A shot came from nowhere and her mother crumpled to the ground, her eyes glazed over in death.

"MOM!" She screamed, desperately.

"It's all your fault, Grace," her father said, looking over at her hatefully, as he held her mother in his arms. "It was your mother's idea to adopt you, and it's your fault she's dead."

"I'm sorry," she whimpered as tears slipped down her cheeks. "I didn't mean it..."

Her father sighed as he caressed her mother's face.

Grace awoke with tears wetting her cheeks before she rolled over, wrapped her arms around her pillow and cried herself back to sleep.


A strange clanging awoke Sam, and she rolled over to her husband. "What's going on in the kitchen?" She asked, looking over.

"Dunno," he admitted, groggily. He rolled out of bed and onto the floor. "I'll check it out."

Sam smiled as he managed to get up off the floor and headed out of the master bedroom door.

"Jacob!" He cried in surprise.

"Jacob?" Sam asked, wakening more fully.

She hurried out of bed, throwing on a warm robe, before she walked out to the kitchen which was covered in flour, sugar, eggs, and milk. "Ho...ly...Hannah..." She murmured, eyes widening as she took in the whole sight.

Jacob stood in the center of the kitchen, his hands frozen midair like the frying pan which was suspended in air between the cabinet and the stovetop. The gas burner was on full, and almost every dish the O'Neills had ever owned were out on the floor and counters, filled with varying amounts of a nebulous egg, milk, flour, and sugar mixture. "What happened in here?" Sam asked, looking disbelievingly at her five-year-old.

"I wanted to make breakfast," he said with his lower lip trembling. "But I made a mess!"

"Oh, baby," Sam murmured with a small chuckle. "It's okay, but what do you think you can do next time?"

"I could ask you to come and help," he said, trying to be brave.

"You better believe it, buddy," Jack laughed as he picked the little boy up and tickled him. As his concentration broke, the frying pan fell to the ground with a bang. "Now, how are we going to fix this?"

"Maybe we could clean up and make breakfast together?" Jacob asked, hopefully. "Just you and me?"

"You read my mind," he said with a grin.

"Jack..." Sam protested.

"Go back to bed, hon. We've got it under control over here."

"Okay," she laughed.

"What happened?" Grace asked, poking her head out of her bedroom.

"Jacob and Dad are making breakfast." Sam said, looking over at her daughter. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said with a groan as she slipped back into her bedroom.

Sam shared a shrug with her husband before she walked over and kissed her husband's cheek and her son's forehead. "Well, I'm going to start getting ready for work. I trust you'll have breakfast ready when I'm finished?"

"You got it." Jacob said, offering his mother a thumbs-up.

She laughed, softly. "Have fun, kiddo."


"I should probably get to work early," Sam said as she took a bite of her pancakes. "Jack, can you drop the kids off at school?"

"Sure will." He said with a grin.

"We're going back to school?" Grace asked, gulping.

"Your dad got the bad guys, I don't see why we shouldn't all get back to normal." Sam said with a shrug.

She swallowed. "Uh...well...I'm behind on my school work..."

"That's why I'm going to drop Jacob off at Vala's, so she can take him to school, and I'll talk to your teachers and your principal and let him know what's been going on."

Grace managed a thin smile. "Sure. Great."

"It'll be okay," Sam said, patting her daughter's hand as she offered a supportive smile. "Maybe when we all get back from school, we'll have a game night."

"Okay," she sighed. "Game night...and school. This day just gets better and better..."


"Girl, it's about time you showed back up at school!" Makayla said, walking up behind Grace, as she put her backpack in her locker. "People were starting to talk about you being pregnant or in jail."

Grace jumped as she realized someone had been following her. "You scared me," she said, her voice shaking.

"You're awful jumpy , what's going on?" Makayla asked, looking at her friend, curiously.

"I'm fine," Grace lied, trying to hide her trembling hands. She turned slightly to find her father speaking with the principal and the SRO. That only made her a little less anxious about the day ahead.

"You sure?"

She nodded.

"You've been gone for a while. What happened?"

"Just...been sick..." Grace murmured, turning back to her locker.

"So, how's Trevor? Did you find a dress yet?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Grace murmured, clutching her math book and a notebook to her chest as she closed her locker door.

"Don't want to talk about it?" Makayla asked, raising an eyebrow. "The dance is this weekend! If you don't have something to wear, you're in trouble."

"I said I don't want to talk about it," she said, more forcefully.

"Fine." Makayla said, quieting instantly.

Grace walked down the crowded corridor to her math class. It was all a blur to her – a welcome, but somewhat intimidating blur.

"Grace!"

She tensed as she heard Trevor call for her. Pretending that she hadn't heard him, she ducked into her math classroom, grateful at once for the cover that the crowd had afforded.

"Why are you avoiding Trevor?" Makayla asked, instantly.

Grace was silent as she got to her seat.

"What's going on between the two of you?" She pressed. "Why aren't you thrilled about the fact that he asked you to Winter Wonderland?"

"Leave me alone," Grace mumbled, almost incoherently.

"You know, you used to be fun," Makayla said, a moment later, clearly hurt by Grace's emotional shove.

Yeah, and I didn't used to wonder if people were out to kill me or my parents, Grace thought grimly.

"Are you in this class?" A tall, lean man with curly black hair, green eyes and a well-trimmed goatee asked, causing everyone to look to the front of the room where Trevor stood, hurt by Grace's cold shoulder.

"No, sir," he mumbled, humbly, when he saw that Grace had turned her gaze the moment she'd realized it had been him at the door.

"Then, I suggest you get to class," the older man encouraged.

"Yes, sir." He said with a small sigh.

The tall man turned back to the class. "I assume you're all here for Mrs. Huffman's algebra class."

They all nodded.

"I'm Mr. McNamara. Mrs. Huffman was in a terrible car accident last night. She's in the hospital, and I'll be your substitute for the next few weeks while she recovers."

Grace's heart began to pound loudly in her ears.

"Well, well, well," another man said, approaching her. "If I'd have known we'd have guests, I would have spruced the place up a bit."

Her hands trembled at the memory of the voice and the face that had accompanied that poor young woman's last few moments. There he was – the goatee was new, and his eyes were green instead of blue, but it was him.

She sunk into her chair, hoping that he hadn't seen her. She won a look from Makayla.

"All right, let's see who's here," Mr. McNamara said with an amicable smile as he reached for the roll. "Tracy Anderson."

The cheerleader, dressed in her uniform with her red hair pulled into a half-ponytail with ribbons made of the school colors, raised her hand.

"Sara Carmichael?"

"Present." The blond, dressed in an almost Catholic school uniform, raised her hand, her long legs crossed to the side of the desk. "Present."

"Adam Clarkson?"

The boy in the back whose eyes were hooded beneath his long hair barely looked up in acknowledgment of the roll call.

Grace let her eyes dart about the room as she considered how she could get away from the substitute if he turned out to be a threat. They were in a second-story classroom, and the window wasn't real glass, but plexiglass that wouldn't break easily. She'd have to pass him in order to go out through the door.

Upon realizing that she was virtually trapped in the classroom, she felt her breathing shallow and quicken.

"Grace O'Neill."

Grace was almost gasping for air as the rest of the class turned back to look at her.

"Grace O'Neill?" The substitute asked, looking at her.

"That's Grace, there in the back." Sara said, and Grace couldn't help but see the smug look that she had on her face. She was always trying to get "in" with the teachers.

She felt light-headed. It was getting harder to process the air which entered her lungs too quickly.

The substitute stood up, and walked over to her, placing a gentle but unobtrusive hand on her shoulder. "Grace, are you okay?"

"Don't touch me, you bastard!" She screamed, kicking him in the shin before she jumped out of her desk, thrust her palm up against his nose, kneed him in the groin and after he doubled over, hit his back so that he would fall on his face.

The class sat in stunned silence before she ran out of the room.