"What am I supposed to do, Zach? I'm just—"
"Just a girl?" he questioned me. Then he shrugged and sighed. "I thought you were a Gallagher Girl."
Zach walked away, but I stood there for a long time, wondering if I should go to my mother; if I should go to my friends; but instead I slipped into the corridors I hadn't used in months, pushed my way through cobwebs and darkness, trying to walk away from the tears that burned hot down my cheeks, because maybe I didn't want to admit weakness; maybe I wanted to wallow in my solitude and grief.
Or maybe crying is like everything else we do—it's best if you don't get caught.
Chapter Twenty-four
The next two weeks were honestly two of the weirdest in my life—not for what happened, but for what didn't happen.
Zach didn't harass me. He didn't tease me. He didn't even call me Gallagher Girl and flash his cocky grin in my direction.
After a lifetime of being the girl nobody sees, I felt like I'd become a whole new type of invisible.
And then one day, as I was leaving the Grand Hall, I felt someone bump against me and I heard Zach say, "Sorry." Then we kept walking in opposite directions—him up the Grand Stairs and me outside.
I didn't notice the note in my pocket until I was already outside, standing in the light rain that seemed to never stop.
I didn't stop to marvel that he'd just pulled off the greatest brush pass I'd ever seen. I didn't run for the shelter of the barn.
Instead, I stood in the heavy wet air, looking at my name scrawled across a piece of Evapopaper. I opened the note and scanned the page, the words barely registering before the paper washed away in the rain.
Well, obviously the note was gone long before I found my friends and barricaded the door to our bedroom—which was a shame, because, if ever there was a piece of evidence that needed examining, that was it. But the note was gone. Lost. We couldn't analyze the handwriting or the intensity with which he'd held the pen. We had to go on words themselves and what little prior knowledge we had about the subject.
(Copy courtesy of Cameron Morgan)
So I hear we get to go to town this weekend. Want to catch a movie or something?
— Z
P.S. That is, if Jimmy doesn't mind.
Translation: This weekend might be a good chance for us to see each other outside our school in a social environment, free of competition. I do not view other boys as threats, and I enjoy making them seem insignificant by calling them the wrong names. (Translation by Macey McHenry)
"Oh my gosh, Cam," Liz exclaimed. "He asked you out!"
"What does it mean?" I asked, turning to Macey, who plopped down on her bed and pulled off her nine-hundred-dollar shoes that she'd worn to the P&E barn and were now covered with mud.
"You mean besides the obvious he's-asking-you-to-the-movies part?" Macey asked.
"Yeah, besides that," I said, because it couldn't have been that easy. Spies never act without motivation, without a cause, and I didn't have a clue what Zach's ulterior motive might have been. I didn't know why he'd asked me in a note and not in person. I didn't have a clue what the significance was behind him not signing with his full name. We'd been studying boys for almost an entire academic year, and yet I didn't feel any closer to understanding a culture where people insult you, then tease you, ignore you for weeks, and then ask you to the movies!
"He's got to be up to something," I said finally. But my roommates just looked at each other like there was another explanation. "Don't you think he's up to something?"
The rain grew heavier outside, the wind howled, and finally Bex stood and strolled toward me. "Yes. He's definitely up to something."
I looked at Liz for confirmation, but she was busy entering Zach's words into the Boy-to-English translator that had finally made it to the prototype phase.
"And that's why," Macey said, smiling, "you've got to go."
Sure, if you're a Gallagher Girl and you spend all day every day inside the Gallagher grounds, then the thought of going to town—any town—starts to look pretty good. And going with a guy like Zach Goode looks even better.
But not if you're a Gallagher Girl who is actually engaging in what might be a deep cover honeypot scenario … Not if your best friends think this is the perfect opportunity to A) Try out Macey's new under-eye concealer that's legal only in Switzerland. And B) Practice the classic three-operative-surveillance scenario…
And most of all, not if you're a Gallagher Girl with an ex-boyfriend in that particular town.
Saturday morning we woke to sunny skies. Winter had gone away somehow, melted with the snow, and now a pale sunlight filtered through the windows. And I remembered what I'd agreed to do.