I hadn't come away in worse shape than Macey McHenry.
Not by a long shot.
Chapter Five
I know the sounds my school makes—the squeaky steps and creaking doors, the hushed voices during finals week, the noisy chaos of the Grand Hall before dinner. The first day of a new year has a sound all its own, as limos turn down the winding lane and car doors slam, suitcases bang against banisters, and girls squeal and hug hello.
But the first semester of my junior year…That semester started with a whisper so quiet I almost didn't hear it.
"Is Macey taking the semester off?" one senior asked another as they stood huddled in the hall outside the library.
"I heard they had to amputate Macey's arm and replace it with a bionic limb that Dr. Fibs made in his lab," an eighth grader said when I passed by the door to their common room.
Gallagher Girls spend their free time scattered throughout the four corners of the world, but that year every girl who returned from summer break brought back the same questions. So I kept moving, roaming the quiet halls like a shadow, right up until the point when I turned the corner and ran into Tina Walters.
"Cammie!" Tina cried, and in the newfound quiet of our school, the word echoed. She threw her arms around me. "You're okay!" she proclaimed, and then she reconsidered. "You are okay, aren't you?"
"Yeah, Tina, I'm—"
"Because I heard you killed one of them with a campaign button?"
Tina is a teenage girl, and a spy-in-training, and the only daughter of one of the country's premiere gossip columnists, so it's not surprising that she has crazy theories. A lot of them. All the time. But in that second, my mind flashed back to the sunny roof. I saw the shadows of the spinning blades, felt the hands that gripped my shoulders, and then heard the pained cry as I jabbed the Winters-McHenry button into a hand wearing a ring that I was sure I'd seen before.
"Cam?" Tina asked, but I just nodded.
"Yeah, Tina." My throat felt strange, as I said it. "Something like that."
And then I walked away.
When you're known as the Chameleon, sometimes it can feel like your whole life is just an elaborate game of hide-and- seek. Fortunately, I am very good at hiding. Unfortunately, my best friends are very good at seeking.
"Cam!" someone called through the shadows. "We know you're in here." The voice was soft and Southern, the footsteps so dainty that I knew there could only be one person tiny enough to creep over those particular floorboards without making a sound.
"Oh, Cammie," Liz practically sang, as she crept down the ancient corridor that (I think) had once been a pretty important part of the Underground Railroad, and had more recently served a far less noble covert purpose.
"I thought we'd find you here," another voice said. My second roommate pushed her way out of the shadows.
If possible, I think Liz had gotten even tinier and Bex had gotten even prettier over the summer break. Liz's blond hair was almost totally white from spending all summer in the sun. Bex's accent was stronger, like it always is after spending months with her parents in England. (Of course, Bex swore that she'd spent a good portion of that time actually doing surveillance with MI6 in an African nation that shall remain nameless.) Her dark skin glowed and her hair was longer than it had been at the start of the summer.
"Isn't it a tad early in the semester for hiding, darling?" Bex tried to tease. I tried to smile.
"What gave me away?" I asked.
"Irregular dust patterns outside the entrance," Bex said. "You're getting sloppy." And then she stopped. Strong Bex, brave Bex, seemed to recoil when she realized what she'd said- "I didn't mean…"
"It's okay, Bex," I told her.
"You weren't sloppy!" Bex blurted again.
Then Liz jumped in. "Everyone's talking about how great you were—about how, if you hadn't been there …" But she didn't finish, which was just as well. No one wanted to think about how that sentence had to end.
Bex eased onto one of the overturned crates and boxes that filled the room. "Have you seen her?"
"Not since the day after. They brought us to Mr. Solomon's lake house, but then they took her back to her parents."
"She is coming back," Liz asked. "Isn't she?"
"I don't know," I said with a shrug.
"I mean … they wouldn't want her to stay with them all the time, would they? They'd want her here, where she's safe?"
"I don't know, Liz," I said, sharper than I'd meant. "I mean … I don't know if she's coming," I said, more softly. "I don't know who tried to do this or why or … I just don't know," I whispered again, then turned to look out the tiny circular window.
"She invited me." Bex's voice cut through the silence. "Before the convention, she called our flat and asked me to come, but my mum and dad were home, and I…" Bex trailed off, not knowing, I guess, that wanting to be with your parents isn't actually a sign of weakness. "I should have been there." She didn't sound envious about missing out on a good fight. Instead, she sounded guilty.
"Me too," Liz said, sinking to the dusty floor. "When she called, my mom said I could go, but I only had a few days left with my parents, so I said no."
I nodded. We all thought we'd have the better part of a year to spend together, hut in any life—especially a spy's life—tomorrow is never guaranteed.
And there you have it—the most important thing any of us had learned over our summer vacation.
"Tina Walters says Macey's parents have hired an ex- Navy SEAL to pose as a Sherpa and hide Macey out in the Himalayas until the election is over," Liz offered.