"Cammie, this is not an ordinary school—it can't be, with such exceptional students. What you did was reckless and careless, and if you tried a stunt like that in the field, lives would be put at risk and operations could fail. You know that. Don't you?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"That being said, as someone with a good deal of experience"—she glanced at Mr. Solomon, who nodded—"it was a rather impressive display."
"It was?" I looked between the two of them, expecting a trapdoor to open up and send me zooming to the dungeon. "I'm not… in trouble?"
Mom tilted her head, weighing her words. "Let's just say, you've had one of the more extensive Covert Operations exercises this school has ever allowed."
"Oh," I said, and the word sounded heavy.
"But, Cam," Mom said, leaning forward, "why didn't you come to me?"
She sounded hurt. It was torture—the hard kind.
"I don't know." Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. "I just…" It was too late; my voice was cracking. "I didn't want you to be ashamed of me."
"Her ashamed?" Mr. Solomon said, and it took me a split second to remember that he was even in the room. "You think she could have gotten away with as much as you did at your age?" He laughed, then smiled. "That wasn't your mom in you—that was your dad."
He stood and strolled to the window. I saw his reflection in the sunny glass as he spoke. "He always said you were going to be good." Okay, so maybe he was still a little hot…"Cammie, I think I've been pretty hard on you this semester," Joe Solomon said, as if letting me in on a secret. "You know why?"
Because you hate me was the answer that sprang to mind, though I knew it wasn't the right one.
"I've already lost one member of the Morgan family I care about." He looked between me and my mom. "So I'd give about anything for you to never come into my classroom again." Shocked and hurt, I could do nothing but stare at him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out my form where I'd marked the Covert Operations box. "Are you sure you don't want to find a nice safe desk or lab somewhere?" I didn't answer, so after a moment he refolded the form and put it back in his pocket. "Well, if you're going to be in the field—you're going to be ready. I owe your old man that much." Sadness seeped into his voice, and for the first time I saw Joe Solomon as human. "I owe him more than that."
I glanced toward my mother, who gave him a sad, knowing smile.
"Have a good break, Cammie," Mr. Solomon said, sounding like his old self as he reached for the door. "Rest up. Next semester won't be the cakewalk you just had."
That was a cakewalk?! I wanted to scream, but Joe Solomon was already gone. I wanted answers from him. How well had he known my dad? Why did he come to the Gallagher Academy now? Why did I get the feeling there was more to the story?
But then my mom spoke, and I realized we were alone. My defenses fell, and I felt like I could curl up beside her and sleep straight through Christmas.
"Cammie," she said, moving to sit beside me. "I'm not glad you lied to me. I'm not glad you broke the rules, but there is one part of this that has made me very proud."
"The computer stuff?" I guessed. "Because, really, that was all Liz. I didn't—"
"No, kiddo. That's not it." She reached down and took my hand. "Do you know that your dad and I weren't sure we wanted you to go to school here?"
I've heard a lot of crazy things in my life, but that one took my breath away. "But… you were a Gallagher Girl…. I'm a legacy…. It's …"
"Sweetheart," Mom stopped me. "When we came here, I knew I'd be taking away everything that isn't inside these walls. I didn't want this to be the only life you know." She smoothed my hair. "Your dad and I used to talk about whether this was the best place for you."
"But what… how did you decide?" I asked, but as soon as I had said the words, I knew it was a stupid question.
"Yeah, kiddo, when we lost your father I knew I had to get out of the field…"
"And you needed a job?" I tried to finish for her.
She shook me off. "I needed to come home."
When did I start crying? I really didn't know. I really didn't care.
She smoothed my hair and said, "But the thing I worried most about was that you'd spend your childhood learning to be hard and strong and never learn that it's okay to be soft and sweet." She straightened beside me, forced me to look into her eyes. "Doing what we do, it doesn't mean turning off the part of yourself that loves, Cam. I loved your father…I love your father. And you. If I thought you would have to give that up … to never know that… I would take you as far away from this place as we could go."
"I know," I said. Not a lie.
"Good. I'm glad you're smart enough to know that," she said, then pushed me away. "Now go on. You've got tests to take."
I ran my hands across my face, searching for stray tears, then I stood and headed toward the door. But before I could leave, she stopped me.
"It would have been okay, you know, kiddo? To mark that other box."
I looked back at her, and I saw not the headmistress or the spy or even the mother, but the woman I'd seen crying.