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We turned another corner, and I knew from my Drivers Ed recon that there was a playground up ahead.
"I broke my arm there," he said, pointing to the monkey bars. Then he blushed. "It was a real rumble—bodies everywhere—you should have seen the other guy. "
I smiled. "Oh, sounds wild. "
"As wild as anything in Roseville ever gets. " He laughed, and then kicked a stone with the toe of his shoe. It skidded across the vacant street and into an empty gutter. "My mom totally freaked out. She was screaming and trying to drag me into the car. " He chuckled, then ran a hand through his wavy hair. "Shes a little high maintenance. "
"Yeah," I said, smiling. "I know the type. "
"No," he said. "Your mom must be cool. I mean, I cant imagine getting to see the places youve seen. All my mom does is cook all the time, you know? Like one kind of pie isnt enough. No. Shes got to have three different kinds, and …" His voice trailed off as he looked at me. "I bet your mom doesnt do that. "
"Oh, yes she does!" I said quickly. "Shes really big on all that stuff. "
"You mean, Im not the only kid who has to sit through eight-course dinners?"
"Oh, are you kidding?" I said. "We do that all the time!" (If eight courses could be defined as five Diet Cokes and three Twinkles. )
"Really? I thought that with the Peace Corps and…"
"Oh, no, are you kidding? Theyre big on family time and"—I thought back to the huge stack of Pottery Barn catalogs—"decorating. "
"Yes!" he said. "I know. You know how they decide, overnight, that you need new curtains in your bedroom…Like plain curtains arent really getting it done, and now you need striped curtains?"
Plain curtains? Striped curtains? What kind of society had I stumbled into? I should be getting COW extra credit for this! We walked farther, down a winding street with manicured lawns and perfect flower beds that couldnt possibly have been mere miles from the Gallagher walls. I was getting an insiders tour behind the picket fence. I was going where no Gallagher Girl (well, at least this Gallagher Girl) had ever gone before—into a normal American family.
"This is nice. Its a nice…night. " And it was. The air was chilly but not cold, and only a light dusting of clouds blew across the starry sky.
"So what was it like?" he pried. What was what like? "Mongolia? Thailand? It must be like …"
"Another world," I said. And it was true—I was from another world—just one that was surprisingly near his own.
Then he did the coolest thing. We were stopped under this streetlight, and he said, "Hold it. Youve got a …" And then he reached up and brushed my cheek with his finger. "Eyelash. " He held it out in front of me. "Make a wish. "
But right then, there was nothing else I wanted.
I dont know how long we wandered the streets of Roseville, because, for the first time in years, I lost track of time.
"But I guess you dont have crazy teachers," he said, teasing after hed finished a story about his psycho track coach.
"Oh, youd be surprised. "
"Tell me something about you," Josh was prompting me. "Ive told you all about my crazy Martha Stewart-wannabe mom and my hyper kid sister and my dad. "
"Like what?" I asked, freaking out, as was probably evident by the mind-numbing silence.
"Anything. Whats your favorite color? Your favorite band?" He pointed at me as he jumped off the curb and turned in the street. "Whats your favorite thing to eat when youre sick?"
How great a question is that? I mean, my whole life Ive been answering questions—hard ones, too—but that one seemed especially telling.
"Waffles," I said, suddenly amazed when I realized it was true.
"Me too!" Josh said. "Theyre so much better than pancakes, which my mom says is crazy because its the same batter, but I tell her that its a—"
"Texture thing," we said at the exact same time.
OH MY GOSH! He gets the pancakes versus waffles thing! He gets it!
He was smiling. I was melting.
"Whens your birthday?" He shot the question at me like a dart.
"Um…" The second it takes for you to recall something your cover should know, is the second it takes for bad people to do bad things. "November nineteenth," I blurted for no apparent reason; the date just landed in my head like a stone.
"Whats your favorite ice cream?"
"Mint chocolate cookie," I said, remembering that was what wed found in his garbage.
His face lit up. "Me too!" Fancy that. "Do you have brothers and sisters?"
"Sisters," I replied instinctively. "I have sisters. "
"What does your dad do? When he isnt off saving the world?"
"Hes an engineer. Hes wonderful. "
I didnt even pause before I said it. The words were out, and I didnt want to shove them back in. Of all the lies Id told that night, that was the only one I knew I wouldnt have to try to remember. My dads strict, but he loves me. He takes care of me and my mom. When I get home—hell be there.
And he did save the world—a lot.
I looked at Josh, who didnt doubt me. And I knew that right then, right there, that in a way, all of it was true. I knew that from that point on, the legend would live.
"Its not a family business, though. Right?" Josh asked.
I shook my head, knowing it was a lie.
"Good," Josh said. "Be glad you dont have someone breathing down your neck to follow in your old mans shoes. " He kicked a stone. "Whats that they call it—you know, in the Bible—about how we can do whatever we want?"
"Free will," I said.
"Yeah. " Josh nodded. "Be glad youve got free will. "
"Why? What do you have?"
Wed reached a corner of the square Id never paid much attention to before. Josh pointed to the sign above a row of dark windows—ABRAMS AND SON PHARMACY, FAMILY OWNED SINCE 1938.
And then I knew why we do fieldwork. Of course I knew that Joshs dad was the town pharmacist. But computer files and tax records hadnt told us how Josh would react to that place. They hadnt prepared me for the look in his eye when he said, "I dont really like running track. I just… It keeps me away from here after school. "
Something in the way he said it told me that it was something he hadnt told anyone else, but I was no one his friends knew. I was no one whod let it slip to his parents. I was no one.
"I guess theres some pressure to follow in my dads footsteps, too," I admitted.
"Really?"
I nodded, unable to say any more, because the truth was, I didnt know where those footsteps led. I didnt have that kind of clearance.
The clock in the tower over the library chimed ten, and I knew it may as well have been midnight, and I may as well have been Cinderella.
"Ive got to …" I motioned toward the library (and, far beyond it, the towering walls of my home). "I cant get…Ive got…Im sorry. "
"Wait. " He grabbed my arm (but in a nice way). "Youve got a secret identity, dont you?" He grinned. "Come on. You can tell me. Youre Wonder Womans illegitimate daughter? Really, its okay. I am fine with it—just as long as your father isnt Aquaman, because, to tell you the truth, I always got a really superior vibe off of him. "
"This is serious," I said through my laughter. "Ive got to go. "
"But whos going to make sure I get home safely? These are dark and dangerous streets. " Across the square, a group of older women was leaving the movie theater. "See, Im not safe out here by myself. "
"Oh, I think youll survive. "
"Will I see you tomorrow?" Gone was the silly tone, the flirting cadence. If he hadnt been holding me I might have fainted—seriously. It was just that sweet and strong and sexy.
Yes, my heart cried, but my brain spoke of a biochemistry midterm, seven chapters of COW reading, and two weeks worth of lab reports for Dr. Fibs.
Sometimes I really hate my brain.
But most of all, I heard Mr. Solomons voice, and it was telling me that a
good spy always varies her routines. The people at the Gallagher Academy might not notice one stray girl two nights in a row—but three would be pushing my luck, and I knew it.
"Im sorry. " I pulled away from him. "I never know when my mom has classes or when Ill get to come. We live out in the country, and I cant drive yet, so … Im sorry. "
"Will I just see you around, then? You know, for self-defense tips and stuff?"
"I …" I stumbled, knowing Id finally made it to the edge of the cliff, and I had to decide if it was worth the fall.
I attend the best school in the country. I can speak fourteen languages, but I cant talk to this boy? What good is a genius IQ? Why bother teaching us the things we know? Whats the use in …
And then I saw it.
I turned to Josh. "Do you like spy movies?"
He looked at me, then muttered, "Um…sure. "
"Well…" I inched closer to the gazebo, which was very Americana. Very Sound of Music. Very Gilmore Girls. But the really important thing about the Roseville gazebo wasnt that it had awesome twinkle lights. No, it was better—it was the loose stone jutting out from its base.
(FYI, for the most part, spies love loose stones. )
"I saw this movie," I said, pacing myself. "It was an old movie … in black-and-white…and this girl wanted to communicate with this boy, but they couldnt, because it was too dangerous. "
"Why? Because he was a spy?"
He? Sometimes the sexism in this country amazes me, but then I remembered that societys tendency to underestimate women is a Gallagher Girls greatest weapon, and I consoled myself by remembering how it had taken less than two seconds for me to level Josh flat and hard onto the pavement.
"Yes," I said. "He was a spy. "
"Cool. " He nodded.
"You can leave me notes in there. " I removed the stone, revealing the small hole in the mortar. "And just replace the stone backward, so Ill know theres a note. " I slid the stone in so that the painted face was on the inside. The effect was of one gray piece of slate in a snow-colored field. "And when I leave a note, Ill turn it around the other way. See?" I said, feeling perhaps a little too proud of myself. "We used to do this all the time … in Mongolia. "
Doesnt she know theres such a thing as e-mail? I imagined him wondering. Instant Messenger? Cell phones? Even tin cans tied together with string probably seemed high-tech compared to what I was proposing. He either thought I was crazy or from some really bizarre experiment where they freeze people for decades, even though I know for a fact that technology isnt to a prototype phase yet.
He looked at me like I was crazy, so I said, "Youre right. Its stupid. " I turned. "Ive got to go. It was …"
"Cammie. " The word stopped me. "Youre not a normal girl, are you?"