Liz did my hair. Macey worked a miracle with my makeup. And Bex was busy sewing a button camera onto my jacket. We had a plan. We had been training for this moment for years, but when my roommates started downstairs, I looked at myself in the mirror.
"It would be okay if you liked him, you know." Macey lingered in the open doorway. Behind her, the hall grew silent as girls headed out for the long walk into town.
I thought about the rules of covert operations: don't get emotionally involved in a subject; never lose perspective or control. Better spies than I have flouted those rules and ended up heartbroken … or worse. I glanced through the window at the barn, where we learn to shield our eyes and protect our kidneys—we dodge punches and take kicks.
But even the Gallagher Academy hadn't figured out a way to help us protect our hearts.
"I have eyeball," Bex said through my comms unit an hour later. Which was a comforting sound. So far, neither Zach nor I had said much of anything, because A) When we got downstairs there was a huge group of people waiting to walk to town (one of whom was Tina Walters). B) The wind was blowing, so I had to keep my head at a weird angle to keep my hair out of my face. And C) Even though I'd been on dates (and missions) before, I'd never done both at once.
And finally, it's kind of hard to talk when you walk two miles only to find yourself in the middle of the Roseville, Virginia, Founders' Day parade. Yes, I said parade.
Both the spy and the girl in me knew I was supposed to be saying something—I was supposed to be doing something—but as soon as we turned onto Main Street I heard the blare of trumpets from the Pride of Roseville Marching Band; I saw church ladies selling brownies and raffle tickets for a chance to win a homemade quilt. The entire town of Roseville seemed to be either marching down the streets or filling the square.
"He looks good, Cam … I mean Chameleon," Liz hurried to correct her mistake. I glanced up and down the crowded streets and couldn't see my roommates anywhere, but there was some comfort in knowing they were there. "Cough if you think he looks good."
10:41 hours: The Operative couldn't help but notice that The Subject both looked and smelled REALLY good.
Zach did look good. He wasn't in his uniform. He'd put something in his hair so that it was messed up in all the right places. And I kept thinking that there had to be something nefarious going on—that there was no way this boy was on a real date with me.
"Hey, Chameleon, you know you can talk," Macey said through the comms units. "It is allowed."
But talking wasn't exactly easy, because I was with Zach…On a date-slash-honeypotting mission! I had a comms unit in my ear and a package of breath mints in my purse, and there was a 1/187 chance I would see my ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. … I was dealing with a lot of issues!
"Do you want to do something?" I asked awkwardly, even though, technically, we were doing something.
"We could go to a movie," Zach said. "Or get something to eat."
"Okay."
"Or we could just…walk," he suggested, and for the first time I wondered if he might be nervous, too.
"Okay," I said again.
"Or we could have that clown over there paint our faces and then go rob the bank," he suggested, as if I wasn't really listening. But I didn't fall for it.
"No way. Last October they installed a Stockholm Series 360—it'd take us at least forty-five minutes to crack it."
"Good to know." He laughed.
Suddenly I wanted to stop in the middle of the street and ask Zach why he'd asked me out. I wanted him to confess that I was being honeypotted too. But when Zach reached for my hand and led me through crowded sidewalks, it didn't feel like the gesture of an operative on a mission. And then, more than anything, I wanted to stop hearing Macey's words, It's okay for you to like him, because sometimes not liking someone is easier.
A middle-aged man in a red jacket lingered in the center of the square. Antique cars lined the street while men with big bellies kicked the tires and sipped lemonade. We were only two miles away from school, but the Roseville town square felt like another world. The most dangerous thing I could see was a crowd of little girls in sparkly leotards pushing their way down the sidewalk. Zach pulled me around a corner and onto a quiet side street.
"So, plant any good bugs lately?" Zach asked.
A spark was in his eyes, but I couldn't laugh. I couldn't even speak. The silence pulsed between us like the beat of the retreating band.
"Just so you know, Gallagher Girl," he whispered softly, "I'm going to kiss you now."
For the first time in months I wasn't thinking about my mission or my cover or my friends.
I wasn't thinking.
His hands were warm on the back of my neck; his fingers laced through my hair, and he tilted his head as he moved in. I closed my eyes.
And I heard, "Oh my gosh! Cammie, is that you?"
Zach said a really bad word as he inched away from me. (But I doubt DeeDee noticed, because the bad word was in Farsi.) The noise coming from the square seemed louder than it had just seconds before, and I knew that whatever trance I'd been in was completely broken—the moment was totally over.
Zach had started to kiss me. I had almost let Zach kiss me!
"Hi, Cammie," DeeDee said. She hugged me and smiled at Zach. "I'm so glad you two are here!"
Josh stood five feet away, staring at me, but he didn't say hi. I've thrown enough punches in my life to know when someone is hurting.
I stepped away from Zach as if I could make Josh forget what he'd just seen, but then I noticed the reflection in the window behind me—Josh's reflection—and I knew that Zach must have seen him. Immediately, my mind raced with a thousand questions—was that why Zach had tried to kiss me? Why did Josh look so sad?