“Thank you, Ms. Sutton.”
“You do,” Mom said, leaning closer to my teacher. “You look perfect.”
Zach was smiling like I’d never seen him smile before, looking down at the closest thing to family he had left. But not me. I was thinking that I would never get to smile at my father again.
“So,” Mr. Solomon said, “what did I miss?”
A lot of people think that being a Gallagher Girl means not being afraid of anything. Actually, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s not about ignoring fear. It’s about facing it, knowing the risks and the costs and sacrificing safety and security anyway. I’d seen my aunt Abby jump in front of a bullet once, and yet in that moment she was terrified. I didn’t want to know what I looked like.
“What is it?” my mother said, but I was already turning from the room that held so many people who didn’t know that this wasn’t the time to be happy.
“Rachel.” I heard my aunt’s voice fading away. “We need to talk.”
Of all the nooks and crannies, the narrow passageways and grand halls that comprise the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women, my very favorite space might possibly be the Protection and Enforcement barn at night. The moon shines through the skylights, and in the dark it’s all stillness and shadows. Plus, it’s the only place on campus where it’s almost always okay to hit things.
“You’re making a bad habit out of this.”
I don’t know what was more surprising—that Zach had found me so quickly or that he’d actually left Joe’s side. If the man I loved like a father were upstairs, I don’t think I’d walk away from him ever again.
“You should be with him,” I said, standing at the center of the mats, looking up at the moon.
Zach stepped closer. “I’m right where I need to be.”
“Did Abby…”
“She’s telling them now.”
“Is Joe your father, Zach?”
I don’t know where the question came from, but it was out, and I couldn’t take it back even if I’d wanted to.
“No.” Zach shook his head. “I never knew my dad. I don’t know anything about him.”
Suddenly I felt guilty for my foolishness. For my crying and my tantrums. After all, nothing could have made me trade mourning my father for not knowing him.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“I’m not. I have Joe.”
“I’m glad he’s awake,” I said. My throat burned. “I’m glad he’s…back.”
“Gallagher Girl,” Zach said, reaching for me, but I stepped away.
“My dad’s not coming back,” I said.
“I know.”
“He’s not missing, Zach. He’s dead.”
“I know.”
“They killed him!”
“You’re alive, Cammie.”
“Mr. Solomon is alive,” I said, and Zach took my arms and squeezed them tight.
“You’re alive.”