Ally Carter - [Gallagher Girls 01] I'd Tell You I Love You But Then I'd Have to Kill You

"Sisters," I replied instinctively. "I have sisters."

"What does your dad do? When he isn't off saving the world?"

"He's an engineer. He's wonderful."

I didn't even pause before I said it. The words were out, and I didn't want to shove them back in. Of all the lies I'd told that night, that was the only one I knew I wouldn't have to try to remember. My dad's strict, but he loves me. He takes care of me and my mom. When I get home — he'll be there.

And he did save the world—a lot.

I looked at Josh, who didn't 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.

"It's not a family business, though. Right?" Josh asked.

I shook my head, knowing it was a lie.

"Good," Josh said. "Be glad you don't have someone breathing down your neck to follow in your old man's shoes." He kicked a stone. "What's 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 you've got free will."

"Why? What do you have?"

We'd reached a corner of the square I'd 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 Josh's dad was the town pharmacist. But computer files and tax records hadn't told us how Josh would react to that place. They hadn't prepared me for the look in his eye when he said, "I don't 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 hadn't told anyone else, but I was no one his friends knew. I was no one who'd let it slip to his parents. I was no one.

"I guess there's some pressure to follow in my dad's footsteps, too," I admitted.

"Really?"

I nodded, unable to say any more, because the truth was, I didn't know where those footsteps led. I didn't 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.

"I've got to …" I motioned toward the library (and, far beyond it, the towering walls of my home). "I can't get…I've got…I'm sorry."

"Wait." He grabbed my arm (but in a nice way). "You've got a secret identity, don't you?" He grinned. "Come on. You can tell me. You're Wonder Woman's illegitimate daughter? Really, it's okay. I am fine with it—just as long as your father isn't 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. "I've got to go."

"But who's 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, I'm not safe out here by myself."

"Oh, I think you'll survive."

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Gone was the silly tone, the flirting cadence. If he hadn't 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. Solomon's 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.

"I'm sorry." I pulled away from him. "I never know when my mom has classes or when I'll get to come. We live out in the country, and I can't drive yet, so … I'm sorry."

"Will I just see you around, then? You know, for self-defense tips and stuff?"

"I …" I stumbled, knowing I'd 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 can't talk to this boy? What good is a genius IQ? Why bother teaching us the things we know? What's 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 wasn't 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 couldn't, 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 society's tendency to underestimate women is a Gallagher Girl's 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 I'll know there's 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, I'll 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."

Doesn't she know there's 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 isn't to a prototype phase yet.

He looked at me like I was crazy, so I said, "You're right. It's stupid." I turned. "I've got to go. It was …"

"Cammie." The word stopped me. "You're not a normal girl, are you?"

Okay, so maybe Josh was pretty smart, too.

Chapter Sixteen

Summary of CommunicationOn October 18, during a routine Driver's Ed assignment, The Operatives noticed that the "fill sign" was marked (in other words, the stone was turned) at the designated dead letter drop, so Agent Morgan faked a stomachache when everyone else was engaged in a Gilmore Girls marathon and went to retrieve the following:

Okay, so if your dad's not Aquaman, is he The Flash?

Translation: Please think I'm funny, because my self-esteem is fairly low, and humor may be all I have going for me. (Translation done by Macey McHenry.)

After a brief reply from The Operative, The Subject wrote back the following week: Today my shop teacher gave me detention for not properly sanding a birdhouse. Then my dad told me I should start helping him at the pharmacy two nights a week. When I got home, I found out that my mom made 18 different kinds of banana bread, and I had to taste-test each one. It was torture. How was your day?

Translation: I feel very comfortable sharing things with you because you are separate from my ordinary, mundane life. Leaving these notes and having clandestine meetings is exciting. Having a relationship with you is new and unique, and I'm enjoying it. (Translation done by Macey McHenry, with assistance from Elizabeth Sutton.)

The Operatives took this message as a positive sign and fully expected The Subject to continue communication. A level of trust seemed to be building, and The Operatives felt as if The Subject may soon be ready to be called on to act. The Subject was making excellent progress.