Then I heard a deep voice whisper my name. "Cammie, wake up."
"No," I mumbled, still fighting and half asleep.
"It's okay, Gallagher Girl. It's okay. Wake up."
Chapter Thirty-Four
There are many ways a self respecting (not to mention sane) teenage girl might react to having a teenage boy suddenly appear in her bedroom in the middle of the night.
Hit.
Panic.
Flail.
Freeze.
But I didn't do any of them. Not right then, because I was lying tangled in the sheets and Zach's arms. Tears streamed down my face as I thought of my father and Mr. Solomon and Gilly - for a split second I knew what it felt like to be Gilly.
"It's okay, Gallagher Girl." He smoothed my hair. "It was just a bad -"
"What are you doing here?" I whispered.
Two feet away, Liz shivered and rolled over. In the corner, Bex was starting to snore.
Macey lay perfectly still on her back, her dark hair splayed across her pillow like Sleeping Beauty. I jerked my head in their direction.
"Tell me why I shouldn't wake them?" I whispered. "Tell me why I shouldn't push that?"
I pointed to the panic button on the wall.
He smiled. "Now, where would be the fun in that?"
"Zach," I hissed, and let my hand creep closer to the button.
"Okay," he said, reaching out to gently take that very hand. "I'm here because we need to take a walk."
When we were in the tenth grade, Zach went to my school for an entire semester. We'd shared the hall as classmates. As equals. But walking into Madame Dabney's empty tearoom, the playful look he'd had in his eyes that semester was completely gone. I'm not sure what kind of look I had in my eyes, because I totally avoiding my own reflection in the gilt-framed mirrors. (Now was not the time to be worried about pillow-cheek wrinkles and middle-of-the-night crazy hair.) instead, I studied him.
"Do I want to know how you got in here?" I asked.
He shook his head. "I only broke a few laws." He held his fingers a half inch apart. "Little ones"
Dim chandeliers hung from an ornate ceiling. Our feet were quiet against the polished parquet floors. Almost a year ago we'd stood in this very spot while Madame Dabney ordered us to dance, but Zach didn't reach for me this time. I didn't feel like swaying anymore.
"Does the Circle really have him?" I asked.
"Yes." Zach's voice was flat as he ran his hand through his hair and dropped onto one of Madame Dabney's silk-covered fainting couches. He looked entirely out of place.
"Why? I mean, if he isn't working with them -"
"They weren't exactly doing him a favor. A cozy little CIA prison is probably looking pretty good to him right about now."
I walked to the tall windows and stared out over the grounds. Zach's reflection stared back at me in the dark window. Somehow it was easier not to face him.
"People don't leave the Circle easily, Gallagher Girl."
"I know."