But Liz didn't remind me of that. She just nodded and told me to be careful as I dashed out of the Grand Hall and toward the library, where, if you push against the D-F shelf while pulling on a copy of Downing's Modem Uses for Ancient Weapons, you can slip into my second favorite passageway.
That is, unless Mr. Solomon is in the library.
"Hello, Ms. Morgan," Mr. Solomon said, stopping me in my tracks. I'm pretty sure he doesn't know about any of the secret passageways—especially that one, since it took me two full years to find it—but still it totally freaked me out to turn around and see him standing there.
"And what are you up to this fine evening?" He shoved both hands into his pockets, then leaned forward. "Hot date?"
I'm pretty sure that was Joe Solomon's attempt at male-role-model humor, but it still didn't stop me from making a noise that sounded like hahahahahaha. Yeah. I know. How covert am I?
"Oh, I was just… Um …"
"Hey, kiddo," I heard from behind me. "Were you looking for me?"
The library is probably my favorite room in the mansion. It has a huge stone fireplace in the middle of a two-story circular space that's filled with study tables and big comfy armchairs. Overhead, a second-story balcony overlooks everything, and that's where I saw my mother.
She started down the stairs, a book of poetry in her hands, and I thought she looked like the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. She reached the main floor and slipped her arm around me. "I was just coming to find you."
"Uh, you were?"
And then I remembered Joe Solomon who was standing there, looking on.
"Well then," he said, taking a step toward the door. "I'll leave you two girls alone."
Okay, I'm not sure, but I think my mom could totally take Joe Solomon, and as soon as he called her a "girl" I thought for sure I'd see the proof. But Mom didn't say anything. She didn't pin his arm behind his back or jump into the air and slash him across the face with one of her high-heeled black boots (a move I totally want to perfect someday—just as soon as I can borrow those boots). Oh, no, she just smiled at him. Like a Thanks, I can take it from here smile.
I felt sick. She pulled me into the hall and walked with me toward the chapel. Behind me, I heard the scrape of forks on plates and dinner chatter (in Farsi) as we passed the Great Hall. She looped her arm through mine and said, "I was wondering if you wanted to do something tonight."
Okay, so I know I have lots of different languages at my disposal and everything, but I honestly didn't understand what my mother was asking. It was weird— not like Nazi-submarine-in-the-lake weird, but someone's-been-watching-too-many-made-for-TV-movies weird.
"Or not," she jumped to say when she read my bewildered expression. "I just thought you might want to go into town or something."
Well, actually, I did want to go to town—just not with her. In fact, I was already wearing lipstick, and an outfit was stashed in the tunnel. Josh had sounded so excited when he'd said, "Now, you're coming Saturday night, right? You don't have to do something with your parents, do you?"
I'd said no, but now my mother was asking me to do just that. I looked into her eyes—her beautiful eyes that have seen horrors and miracles and all things in between, and then I said, "I'm pretty tired." Technically not a lie.
"Something low-key, then," she said with all her super-spy persistence. "Maybe a movie?"
"I…" I am a terrible person. "I… See, I've got to …"
Then I heard a voice behind me. "Cammie promised to help me with my organic chemistry paper."
I turned to see Macey McHenry strolling my way. Her face was blank, her tone perfectly normal. Macey might have been behind the curve academically, but when it came to the lyin' side of spyin', the girl was a natural. (And the fact that Tina Walters swears she hijacked a sheik's yacht in the Mediterranean probably played into that a little bit.)
Mom looked at Macey and then back at me. "Oh," she said, but her smile seemed a little forced and her tone a little sad as she lowered her voice and rubbed my arms. "Okay. I just didn't want you to be alone tonight."
Alone? When am I ever alone? I live in a mansion with about a hundred girls, and except for when I'm in my secret room or one of the window seats or by myself in the loft of the P&E barn or … Okay, so sometimes I'm alone.
Macey slipped away, and Mom watched her go. "I know it hasn't been easy … with her. But I'm proud of you, kiddo." She hugged me again. It was a hug that lingered, like there might not be another one for a long, long time, and I wished for a second that I didn't have to pull away so soon. Or ever. But I did anyway. Josh was waiting.
"Supper?" I asked. "Tomorrow night?"
"Sure thing, kiddo," Mom said as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I turned and headed down the corridor, my footsteps thankfully louder than my thoughts. That is, until I turned the corner in the long stone corridor and ran right into Macey.
She was leaning against the wall, hands on hips as she looked at me. "I don't like lying to your mom," she said. "I'll lie to mine, but not yours. That's messed up." Then Macey let out a low, soft laugh, pushed off from the wall and studied me. "I hope he's worth it."
"He is," I whispered.