But instead she said, "Wait here," and I knew she wasn't just my mother and headmistress—she was a Gallagher Girl, and she was going to cling to her cover to the end.
PROS AND CONS ABOUT CRASHING A PRESIDENTIAL WATCH PARTY:
PRO: Secret Service personnel and members of the national media are everywhere, so your mother can't yell at you for running away.
CON: You know she will yell at you eventually, and the longer it builds up—the worse.
PRO: People who have given up sleeping, eating, and any kind of normalcy for two years (and/or vast amounts of money) in order to make someone president, really don't skimp on the giant shrimp for the food buffet.
CON: People who have been campaigning and living out of suitcases, buses, and trains for that amount of time also have a tendency to let their personal hygiene (not to mention their respect for personal space) get a little, shall we say, skewed.
PRO: It turns out, political watch parties come with bands!
CON: The bands play that same song from the campaign rallies over and over and over again.
Spies spend most of their time waiting. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. And standing in that big ballroom that night, counting the balloons that hung in the nets overhead (there were are least 7,345, by the way), I couldn't help but think that we were experiencing the best covert operations training we've ever had.
Bex spent a good portion of the evening talking with an oil executive who we later learned was guilty of insider trading (a few days later we hacked into the Securities and Exchange Commission and left an anonymous tip, FYI). Liz used her photographic memory to reread her copy of Advanced Encryption and You in preparation for a big test in Mr. Mosckowitz's class.
But all I could do was think about the look in my mother's eyes as Cynthia McHenry pulled her away. I whispered, "Something's wrong."
"Cammie." A voice sliced through my worries, so I turned around. "Hey, I thought that was you," Preston said, making his way toward us.
Bex eyed him up and down. Liz fiddled with her top. At the front of the room, the announcer called everyone to silence, and ordered the sound on one of the televisions to be turned up while an anchorman said, "Yes, it's official. We are officially calling Ohio for Governor Winters and Senator McHenry."
A massive cheer filled the ballroom. People raised their glasses to toast the Buckeye state, but my mind was flashing back to the shadows beneath the bleachers on a sunny day.
"So, are you friends of Macey's too?" Preston asked, turning to Bex and Liz, and I could actually feel my grade
in Culture and Assimilation take a nosedive.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I rushed to say. "Preston Winters, this is Rebecca."
"Bex," Bex corrected me in her American accent.
"And Liz," I said. Liz blushed but didn't say a word. "So, are you ready for this to be over?" I asked, because…well, I was pretty sure I was supposed to say something.
He looked around, then leaned closer and whispered, "Dying for it."
"I have a feeling the Secret Service wouldn't like your choice of words," Bex told him.
"I guess not." He laughed.
All around us I could feel the room changing as the night got later and the map on the wall became divided down the battle lines of red and blue.
"Hey," Preston said, looking at me. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
I glanced at Bex and Liz, who nodded for me to go, so the potential first son and I walked to a quiet corner of a party. "I fully admit that what I'm about to say will officially make me a girl." For a second, I forgot my fears and laughed. "And I'm owning that," the boy in front of me carried on. "So that's got to be worth something, right?"
"Right," I answered, biting back a smile.
"But it's just that I've got to ask you about…Does Macey ever say anything about me?" he finally blurted.
Despite my exceptional education, I totally didn't know how to answer his question. Maybe it was because we'd spent more than a year trying to figure boys out, but in all that time it had never crossed my mind that we might be just as encrypted to them. But more likely, it was because I didn't have a clue what to say.
"She doesn't say much about any of this," I finally admitted, gesturing around at the elaborate party—her other world. "It's not really…her, you know?"
Preston smiled. He did know. And right then I knew that it wasn't really him either.