We all shook our heads.
"We didn't have any."
"No!" Liz exclaimed.
Erin nodded. "A few months from now I'm going to be in deep cover somewhere, and this is how I'm supposed to get ready?"
She was right, of course. Mr. Townsend's class wasn't just a waste of time. It was dangerous.
Erin Shook her head, then turned to stare out the window and together we watched our newest teacher walk across the grounds then disappear without a trace into the falling snow. "What's he really doing here?"
Erin's a great student. She's going to be an awesome spy. As she turned and walked away, her whisper seemed to echo, settling down on the four of us.
Our mission was clear.
"He'll be a hard target," Bex said.
"I know."
"We're talking this-guy-makes-Mr.-Smith-look-like-a-candy-striper hard."
I nodded. "Yeah that's right."
"So the question is," Bex said slowly, "how far are you willing to go?"
I looked at my three best friends in the world. "How far is there?"
Chapter Fifteen
Covert Operations Report
Operatives Morgan, Baxter, Sutton, and McHenry began a dangerous information-seeking operation on a highly hostile target. And teacher.
The Operatives were able to ascertain the following:
·Agent Townsend never sleeps past eight or goes to bed before two.
·The Target runs five miles every day and was seen doing 500 sit-ups in a row (which, according to Operative Baxter, isn't nearly as impressive as it sounds).
·The Target strictly avoids both sugar and caffeine (which, according to Operative Morgan, is every bit as crazy as THAT sounds).
·Despite two weeks on the Gallagher Academy faculty, The Target has acquired zero friends.
I've had of lot of memorable meals in five and a half years at the Gallagher Academy, but that was one of the few times when I didn't actually eat anything.
"He's not coming, Liz said, her gaze glued to the big double doors at the back of the room. Bex and Macey and I stayed quiet, glancing around the Grand Hall, the two of them picking at their food as we took turns staring at the doors.
Liz was the one who voiced what we were all thinking. "What if he doesn't come?"
"Hey, Macey, can I have that -"
"No!" the four of us cried in unison. Macey grabbed a banana out of Courtney Bauer's hands, which might have looked kinda strange. But at the Gallagher Academy, "strange"
is a completely relative thing.
"Sorry, Courtney," I said, trying to explain. "It's just that we've got this experiment we're going to do later with . . ."
But then I couldn't finish because Agent Townsend was standing at the entrance of the Grand Hall, taking a long drink from a bottle of water. His dark curly hair was wet with sweat. In his black running suit, he looked as if he could have just gotten back from breaking into an embassy, parachuting behind enemy lines, meeting with a particularly shady informant in the darkest alley of the most dangerous city in the world. As much as I wanted to hate Agent Townsend, there was one thing I didn't dare forget: he was probably a very good spy.