"Sisters," I replied instinctively. "I have sisters."
"What does your dad do? When he isn't off saving the world?"
"He's an engineer. He's wonderful."
I didn't even pause before I said it. The words were out, and I didn't want to shove them back in. Of all the lies I'd told that night, that was the only one I knew I wouldn't have to try to remember. My dad's strict, but he loves me. He takes care of me and my mom. When I get home—he'll be there.
And he did save the world—a lot.
I looked at Josh, who didn't doubt me. And I knew that right then, right there, that in a way, all of it was true. I knew that from that point on, the legend would live.
"It's not a family business, though. Right?" Josh asked.
I shook my head, knowing it was a lie.
"Good," Josh said. "Be glad you don't have someone breathing down your neck to follow in your old man's shoes." He kicked a stone. "What's that they call it—you know, in the Bible—about how we can do whatever we want?"
"Free will," I said.
"Yeah." Josh nodded. "Be glad you've got free will."
"Why? What do you have?"
We'd reached a corner of the square I'd never paid much attention to before. Josh pointed to the sign above a row of dark windows—ABRAMS AND SON PHARMACY, FAMILY OWNED SINCE 1938.
And then I knew why we do fieldwork. Of course I knew that Josh's dad was the town pharmacist. But computer files and tax records hadn't told us how Josh would react to that place. They hadn't prepared me for the look in his eye when he said, "I don't really like running track. I just… It keeps me away from here after school."
Something in the way he said it told me that it was something he hadn't told anyone else, but I was no one his friends knew. I was no one who'd let it slip to his parents. I was no one.
"I guess there's some pressure to follow in my dad's footsteps, too," I admitted.
"Really?"
I nodded, unable to say any more, because the truth was, I didn't know where those footsteps led. I didn't have that kind of clearance.
The clock in the tower over the library chimed ten, and I knew it may as well have been midnight, and I may as well have been Cinderella.
"I've got to …" I motioned toward the library (and, far beyond it, the towering walls of my home). "I can't get…I've got…I'm sorry."
"Wait." He grabbed my arm (but in a nice way). "You've got a secret identity, don't you?" He grinned. "Come on. You can tell me. You're Wonder Woman's illegitimate daughter? Really, it's okay. I am fine with it—just as long as your father isn't Aquaman, because, to tell you the truth, I always got a really superior vibe off of him."
"This is serious," I said through my laughter. "I've got to go."
"But who's going to make sure I get home safely? These are dark and dangerous streets." Across the square, a group of older women was leaving the movie theater. "See, I'm not safe out here by myself."
"Oh, I think you'll survive."
"Will I see you tomorrow?" Gone was the silly tone, the flirting cadence. If he hadn't been holding me I might have fainted—seriously. It was just that sweet and strong and sexy.
Yes, my heart cried, but my brain spoke of a biochemistry midterm, seven chapters of COW reading, and two weeks' worth of lab reports for Dr. Fibs.
Sometimes I really hate my brain.
But most of all, I heard Mr. Solomon's voice, and it was telling me that a good spy always varies her routines. The people at the Gallagher Academy might not notice one stray girl two nights in a row—but three would be pushing my luck, and I knew it.
"I'm sorry." I pulled away from him. "I never know when my mom has classes or when I'll get to come. We live out in the country, and I can't drive yet, so … I'm sorry."
"Will I just see you around, then? You know, for self-defense tips and stuff?"