Madeleine Manchester hadn't attended a real school in more than six years. There weren't a lot of real schools in Alaska, and certainly not in the part where Maddie had lived. The only other children for miles had been bear cubs and moose calves, and Maddie figured it was probably for the best that Alaska's wildlife remained illiterate.
The first thing that struck Maddie about the Gallagher Academy was the noise. A cacophony of voices accosted her the moment she crossed the threshold, crashing over her like a wave. Maddie hadn't heard such a racket in a long time, and she felt herself involuntarily shrink into the side of the boy beside her.
But about 13 seconds later, the din of voices fell to a hush, as every pair of eyes in the entrance hall, and even those on the balcony above, came to rest on Maddie.
Well, not Maddie, exactly. Every pair of eyes landed on Logan Mitchell, Maddie's companion, who also happened to be the President's son. And who could blame them? Logan was tall and broad-shouldered and lanky and dark-haired and handsome. Objectively handsome, Maddie reminded herself. It's not like she was thinking about that.
No, the reality was that the 143 pairs of eyes were focused on Logan. Logan was the only boy to have crossed the threshold of the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women in many, many years. But he was also Maddie's best friend, and had been since they met during President Mitchell's campaign seven years earlier.
Maddie drew herself up to her full five feet four inches and squared her shoulders. She adjusted a 68-pound duffle bag over her shoulder and tried to look intimidating. She'd been told before that she was pretty good at it. But the students of the Gallagher Academy took intimidating to a whole new level.
The Gallagher Academy wasn't just another fancy boarding school nestled in the hills of Virginia outside a small town with a population of 2,000 and no public transportation. The Gallagher Academy was a boarding school for spies.
"Ladies," Michael Manchester said calmly. "Enough with the staring. At least find a reflective surface to look at. We're all professionals here, after all."
Michael Manchester was a professional of ever there had been one. A former Navy Seal, who had transitioned to the Secret Service and became the head of the President's security detail for many years, Maddie's father was the kind of calm Maddie wanted to be as he surveyed the entry hall of the Gallagher Academy. Except for one arm that was still in a sling, you would never know he'd almost been killed by a Russian crime boss in Alaska less than six months ago.
Unless you were Maddie, of course.
143 pairs of eyes turned away, but Maddie could still sense their lingering gaze. And she still felt like she was about to jump out of her skin.
"Come on," Maddie's dad said, smiling. "Let's get you officially enrolled, so you have time to settle in before your welcome dinner."
It's just like every other school, Maddie repeated the words in her head like a mantra as she followed her father, but nothing about them felt true.
The headmistress's office was full of light, gently drifting through cathedral style stained glass windows in modern patterns. Three chairs, a small desk, and a microwave oven on a bookshelf were the only other furnishings, and Maddie got the impression that Rachel Morgan - Solomon didn't spend a lot of time in her office anymore.
"Welcome to Gallagher, Ms. Manchester!" Headmistress Morgan said warmly, gesturing Maddie and Logan to sit. "And Mr. Mitchell," she nodded. "I trust you'll both like it here."
Maddie was silent as she concentrated on remaining composed. The deafening roar of voices was slightly muffled by the door of the headmistress's office, though not nearly as much as Maddie would have expected. You wanted this, she chanted softly in her head. This is exactly what you wanted.
When Maddie had lived in Alaska she had wished for nothing more than to be back in a normal environment at a real school. But she'd spent almost every day of the last six years alone, and the juxtaposition with her current environment was jarring to say the least. Maddie strongly suspected that, at the Gallagher Academy, she would never be alone.
Maddie's father must have sensed her trepidation, because he placed a firm, reassuring hand on her shoulder as the Headmistress continued. And Maddie had to admit she was glad for it.
"Now, Maddie, I know you've had a lot of real-world practical experience already, but whenever we have transfer students here, we do mandate that they start at an introductory level for most of their classes. I have no doubt that you'll catch up with your peers very quickly, but for right now, you'll be attending almost all your classes with our eighth grade students. Our professors are aware of your circumstances, and will make recommendations directly to me when they feel that you're ready to move up."
Maddie nodded, as she tried not to squirm at the thought of being the only sixteen-year-old in a class of girls three years younger.
"And Logan," the Headmistress continued. "I'm sure you're aware that your presence here is a special favor to your parents, and a decision that was made for the purpose of keeping your location confidential. As the Gallagher Academy is self-contained and full of experienced covert professionals, you won't have a secret service detail on our grounds. However, you will be assigned secret service agents any time you leave this campus."
So do not leave this campus. Rachel Morgan might not have said the words, but they were clearly implied.
Maddie wondered how it must feel to constantly have people telling you where you could go and with whom. She knew that, in part, Logan had brought this on himself. Logan had slipped his security detail so many times that his parents had shipped him off to live with the Manchesters in Alaska, where he managed to be kidnapped by a Russian terrorist. He didn't have a great track record when it came to keeping himself safe, and the President was running out of places to hide him. Both the President and Headmistress Morgan must have concluded that, in a school full of girl spies in training and former covert government operatives, more eyes would be on Logan than ever before, and no one would speak a word about it. Or, they had simply given up.
"You'll continue to participate in your remote education from our library. As you might expect, we will be monitoring your online activity so that we can ensure there won't be any more 'Twitter incidents.'"
Maddie thought she could see Headmistress Morgan forcing back a smile when she raised her hands in illustrative finger quotes, as if the idea that her Protectee might attempt to Tweet out the location of the Gallagher Academy was amusing to her.
"Logan, you'll be staying in our faculty wing, and Maddie, you've been assigned to a suite with three other sophomores." Headmistress Morgan slid two keys across the table to their respective owners, and stood in a quiet act of dismissal. "Our welcome dinner begins at 18:30. That should give you plenty of time to get settled. Maddie, your classes begin first thing tomorrow."
And then Maddie arrived at the moment she had anticipated for weeks with both fear and excitement.
"Mad Dog," her father said quietly. "You know I'm only a phone call away if you need me." Maddie knew it wasn't quite that simple, but she appreciated the sentiment. "You belong here, Maddie," Mr. Manchester continued. "You've always belonged here."
There was something in her father's voice that Maddie didn't quite recognize, a pang of guilt or regret. Something that didn't fit with the Michael Manchester Maddie knew. And after so many years in Alaska alone, if Maddie didn't know her father, she didn't know anyone.
Michael Manchester pulled his daughter in for a hug, easily navigating around his sling, and kissed her forehead. Then he pulled away and smiled, and Maddie wondered if what she thought she had seen moments earlier had just been in her imagination.
And then he was gone, and Maddie was alone. At least, as alone as someone could be in a school of one-hundred and twenty-four young women and one President's son.
Maddie's eyes shifted to Logan, who had turned away from her about 75 degrees but was still watching her in his peripheral vision. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. It was time to face her destiny head-on. "I'll see you at dinner," she told Logan, confidently. And then she started up the grand staircase toward her suite, leaving a somewhat befuddled sixteen year old boy in her wake.
AN: But for real, what is Logan's canon last name? I've scoured this book and I'm pretty sure he doesn't have one. If you know, drop it in a review.
