“It’s not?”
“Nope.” Bex shook her head and walked down a couple of stairs. “I think you’re freaked about what happened at Cambridge. I think it scared you.”
“I’ve been through worse, Bex,” I said, joining her on the lower stairs. “Way worse.”
“Oh, not the attack.” Bex raised a finger in contradiction. “What happened before the attack. I think you saw the future. Which is kind of freaky when—two months ago—you didn’t think you were going to have one.”
“So…Cammie…” Tina Walters started as soon as I’d found my seat at the senior table. None of the teachers were inside yet, and the hall was filled with chattering and laughing, but something else, too. Tina leaned closer, her voice no louder than a conspiratorial whisper, “What have you heard?”
“About what, Tina?” I said. Honestly, I wasn’t surprised. Tina wasn’t just the Gallagher Academy’s self-appointed director of communications (aka school big mouth). She was also the daughter of one of the school’s leading alums, who happens to pose as D.C.’s most powerful gossip columnist. So conspiratorial whispers are kind of Tina’s stock-in-trade.
“About that huge oil tanker that exploded in the Caspian Sea, of course!” she said as if natural and geopolitical disasters were common Gallagher Academy conversation. And…well…I guess they kind of were. “What do you think really happened?” Tina asked.
It had been in the news, of course. I’d heard about it. Everyone had heard about it. But even for spy girls, it was an unusual topic.
“Because my sources say it was no accident,” Tina said before I’d had the chance to utter a word. “Every Iranian port on the Caspian has been shut down because of it. And trust me, if there is one thing the Iranians like, it’s oil. If there are two things they like, it’s oil and their ability to ship it to potential buyers.”
“How about that bridge explosion in Azerbaijan?” Courtney Bauer asked.
Liz wheeled on her. “What about it?”
“Mom said there was a bomb on the train,” Courtney said.
“A bomb?” Liz asked.
“Yeah.” Courtney stirred the ice in her glass almost absentmindedly as she answered. “I’m pretty sure she was the one who separated that car from the rest of the train before it blew.”
“She saved a lot of lives,” Bex said, but Courtney tried to shrug it off.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” she said, even though it was. After all, it’s hard to admit that your mom did something really scary without also admitting that, next time, she might not be so lucky.
“So…” Tina went on, “Cammie, what do you know about it?”
“Nothing,” I said, but Tina just looked at me. “Really,” I told her. “I don’t know anything. I was in England with Bex’s parents.”
“Ooh, did you hear about that former prime minister who got blown up at Cambridge? It was supposedly an accident, but my sources say it wasn’t. What do you know about that?” Tina tried again.
I could have lied to her. I would have lied to her. My school had taught me how. My circumstances took away almost all of the guilt. I was just about to do exactly that when the doors at the back of the room swung open and our teachers walked in. As their long procession moved down the center aisle, a new thought filled my mind.
“Where’s Zach?” I scanned the room. “And Mr. Solomon? Where are they?” I asked.
Macey gave me an It’s not fun, is it? look, but I didn’t have time to consider the irony. Or the hypocrisy. Honestly, there’s such a fine line between the two that sometimes it makes my head hurt.
I’d always assumed that Zach and Mr. Solomon would be back for the start of school and, technically, school began with the Welcome Back Dinner. But Zach and Mr. Solomon were nowhere to be seen.
Before anyone could answer, my mother took her place at the front of the room and said, “Women of the Gallagher Academy, who comes here?”
In unison, every girl in the room stood and said, “We are the sisters of Gillian.”
With every line of our motto I felt a tug, not just in my heart but in my head. We were sisters. And that wasn’t going to end with graduation. We would honor her sword and guard her secrets with our lives. Our school’s motto made it sound so easy, so grand. There in that beautiful building with our perfectly pressed skirts, it was supposed to be so simple. Gallagher Girls = Good. But it wasn’t. I knew it. I’d seen it. I’d heard Zach’s mother brag about being a member of my sisterhood. Looking around the room, I couldn’t help but wonder if there were any traitors in our midst even then.
“I hope you all had an excellent break,” my mother said from the front of the room. “It’s very good to see you back here, safe and sound.” She took a breath, letting the words settle over us. Then she shuffled some papers on the podium, checking notes she probably didn’t need.
“Now, eighth grade, your suites will be undergoing a complete bug sweep—that’s insects, not listening devices. Please be prepared for some brief interruptions in the next week and use the back stairwell for the time being, as we have found termites in the front. Sophomores, Professor Buckingham tells me that many of you have yet to turn in your Track Declaration Forms. Those must be filled out before classes begin tomorrow morning. Trust me, ladies, this is not how you want to begin your careers. And, seniors…congratulations. I’m very proud of you, and I’m very excited for you to begin our career assessment program. The first event is in two weeks. Please see Madame Dabney for the complete schedule.”
Mom looked down at her list one final time, then folded the paper. “I guess that’s it. Welcome back, girls. And have a great semester.”
She smiled out across the room. It was like a spotlight, so bright and hopeful and happy. When my mother looked like that, it was easy to believe that there was no evil in the world. I wanted to know if she was faking or forgetting. Whatever the case, I was hoping our last semester at spy school would teach us how to do that for ourselves.