"Good. I'm glad you're smart enough to know that," she said, then pushed me away. "Now go on. You've got tests to take."
I ran my hands across my face, searching for stray tears, then I stood and headed toward the door. But before I could leave, she stopped me.
"It would have been okay, you know, kiddo? To mark that other box."
I looked back at her, and I saw not the headmistress or the spy or even the mother, but the woman I'd seen crying.
And just when I thought I couldn't love her more.
"I wouldn't touch that if I were you."
Josh spun around at the sound of my words. Still, his fingers were perilously close to Gilly's sword. "We're pretty good at keeping things protected around here," I said, inching closer.
He put his hands in his pockets. That was probably the safest place for them, but the gesture reminded me of the first night we'd met. I longed for that dark street, for the chance to do things over.
"So," he said. "A spy, huh?" His eyes never left the sword. I couldn't blame him. I didn't want to look at me, either.
"Yeah."
"That explains a lot."
"So they told you?" I asked.
He nodded. "Yeah, I got the grand tour."
Somehow, I found that really hard to believe, but I wasn't exactly in a position to say, Did you see the nuclear powered hovercraft we keep in the basement, so I just nodded, too.
"Josh, you know you can't ever—"
"Tell anyone?" He looked at me. "Yeah, they told me."
"I mean, ever, Josh. Ever."
"I know," he said. "I can keep a secret."
The words stung. They were supposed to.
There we were, in a room dedicated to secret lives and secret triumphs. He could see it all from where he stood. My sisterhood was bare to him. I was exposed, but there was more between us than ever before.
"I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry I'm not… normal."
"No, Cammie, I get the spy thing," he said, spinning on me. "But you didn't just lie about where you go to school." His voice was harsh, but wounded. His eyes seemed almost bruised. "I don't even know who you are."
"Yes, you do," I said. "You know everything that matters."
"Your dad?" he asked.
I froze. "It's classified—what happened—I couldn't tell you. I wanted to, but—"
"Then just tell me he died. Tell me your mom can't cook and you're an only child. Don't…make up a family. Don't make up another life." Josh looked over the railing along the Hall of History, into the towering foyer of the Gallagher Mansion, and said, "What's so great about normal?"
I might have been the genius, but Josh was the one to see the truth. For a while there, I had needed another life, a trial life—normal on a temporary basis. The problem was looking into the wounded eyes of someone I cared about and telling him that I would never be free to really love him, because … well… then I'd have to kill him.
Then, I realized where we were—what he was looking at. JOSH KNOWS! I mentally screamed. There doesn't have to be any more lying. He's inside. He's one of us (kind of). He's…
But Josh was heading down the stairs. I bolted forward, yelling, "Wait, Josh. Wait! It's okay now. It's…"
When he reached the floor, he stopped and pulled his hand out of his pocket. "Do you want these?" I saw the earrings lying in his palm.