And jumped into the night.
"So…" the voice behind me was strong and even. I turned to see a very sorry-looking Macey and a very impressed-looking Aunt Abby staring at me and the fading parachute that was Zach. "I take it that's the man in your life."
Chapter Twenty
When an operative is compromised mid-mission, there are a lot of things that have to be said. And done. For example, it's great if you have a legend or two you can whip out to distract the catcher from the catchee's actual intentions. Also, misdirection is always useful, so you can place blame on anyone but yourself. Or you can retreat.
But we were on a moving train.
And I didn't have a parachute.
And Aunt Abby was staring right at me.
I expected her to smile like she'd done when she pulled me out from under her bed, but instead she glared at me with a look that was equal parts fury and fear, as Macey and I darted back into compartment fourteen.
"Sit," my aunt commanded, and we each sat on the lower berth while my aunt began to pace. "Do you know what you've done?" she asked, but it wasn't really a question. "Do you know what could have happened tonight?"
Her voice shook. I feared for a second that the Secret Service might come through the door again, but the train was loud and the rain was hard and we kept barreling through the night. I glanced around the small space. It was no use. I, Cammie the Chameleon, had absolutely no place to hide.
"Do you have any idea how dangerous this all is? If the Secret Service caught you … If a member of the media caught a glimpse of what you can do … If there are two girls in the school—in the world—who should know better than to take chances like this, it should be the two of you!"
"I thought rules were made to be broken," I said, confused at first but growing angry. "I thought being a spy was rules-optional," I said, throwing her own words back at her.
"Being a spy means you never have the luxury of being careless!" The train rocked and the night grew darker as my aunt leaned closer and said, "Trust me, Cameron. That is one lesson you don't want to learn the hard way."
Maybe it was the sound of the rain, or the look in her eyes, but I couldn't stop thinking about the way she'd changed in my mother's office, morphed from the Abby I knew into a woman I had never seen before. And just that quickly I realized the smiling, laughing, dancing woman who had walked into my life after four and a half years was just another cover—a Gallagher Girl pretending to be something that she's not.
"Where were you, Aunt Abby?" I heard myself ask. "Dad died, and you weren't there," I said, remembering a time in my life that I'd done everything to forget. I heard my voice crack, felt my eyes blur. I told myself it was the steady rocking of the train that made me feel unsteady, but I knew better as I shouted, "He died and you didn't even come to the funeral. You didn't call. You didn't visit. Dad died, and ever since then you've been a ghost."
Abby turned her back to me. She started for the door, but those words had been alive in me for years, the doubts and questions stacked end to end, and I couldn't stop them if I'd tried.
"We needed you!" I thought about my mother, who still cried when she thought no one could see her, and before I even realized it, I was crying too. "Why weren't you there when we needed you?"
"Haven't you learned yet, Cam?" Abby's voice was softer now, as if she were being dragged back into a dream. "There are some things you don't want to know."
I could feel the train—or maybe just the world—slowing down as she stepped toward the door and whispered, "Stay away from that boy, Cammie." It wasn't an order this time, it was a plea.
"Zach?" Macey asked, as if there could possibly be anyone else. "He's from Blackthorne. We know him."
Then Abby looked at me. For the first time, it seemed like she wanted to smile, but there was no joy in her expression as she asked, "Do you?"
I love the Gallagher Academy at night. There's beauty in the shadows—the only time when the outside really reflects what's going on inside. Nothing is truly black or white. The whole world in shades of gray.
And that night was no different.
"What does that mean?" Liz asked, and Bex paced, but I just stood at the little diamond-shaped window in our attic suite, looking out at the dark grounds, letting the story I'd just told wash over me.
"Wait, you mean Zach got to jump out of a moving train?" Bex asked, not even trying to hide the envy in her voice.
I looked at Macey, who shrugged.
"I still can't believe you left the mansion like that," she said, examining my short skirt and tall shoes.
I tried to smile. "Originally, there was also a wig."
I expected her to laugh. I wanted her to roll her eyes or say something about the world of synthetic hair and people fashion-deprived enough to actually utilize it. I wanted it to be funny. But it wasn't.
"So Abby was really…" Liz started, then lowered her voice, "mad?"
I nodded. The word didn't do it justice, but at the moment, it was the only one I had.
"You're not going to get into trouble, Cam," Bex argued. "Abby's cool."
But she hadn't seen the change in Abby on the train. She hadn't heard the tremor in my aunt's voice or seen the look in her eyes as she strolled through the Hall of History and into my mother's office and closed the door, leaving Macey and me to make our way upstairs alone.