"Cam?" Bex asked as if I hadn't heard her. But she was wrong. That night I heard and saw and smelled everything. "I'm gonna get into position. Are you satisfied with this position?"
I scanned the square and nodded. "Yes."
"You're safe here." She touched my arm almost as if she were trying to get my scent, as if she might soon be chasing me around the world.
And then I watched her go.
Standing alone in the tower, I reminded myself of all the things in the world that I knew to be absolutely true: Rebecca Baxter was the best spy at the Gallagher Academy and the absolute last person who would lie about my safety. I had GPS trackers in my watch, my shoes, my ponytail holder, and my stomach (thanks to a new edible model Liz had been trying out).
My roommates and I all carried panic buttons that could summon an army within the blink of an eye. They could track me anywhere in the world (and ,Liz firmly believes, the moon).
And yet I couldn't shake the feeling that the square seemed smaller from where I stood, or maybe the world just felt bigger.
I held a pair of binoculars to my eyes and scanned the streets, telling myself that I was as safe as I could possibly be. I was prepared. I could handle anything. I ready for everything . . .
Except for the sight of a tall figure with broad shoulder, appearing as if from nowhere at the edge of the gazebo, and saying, "Hello, Gallagher Girl."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Perspective is a powerful thing. Seriously. I highly recommended it. There are things you just can't see unless you take a good step back and watch very, very closely.
I mean, if I'd been standing in the town square and not the bell tower, I might have heard the girl say, "Well hello yourself," but I might have missed the way the boy stumbled backward as she turned. I might not have noticed the way his shoulders fell and his head jerked in the manner of someone who had not found what he was looking for.
I might never have realized that Zach was disappointed to find another girl in the gazebo.
"Macey?" Zach asked as if he couldn't believe his eyes, which was maybe the most flattering thing ever. Because no one has ever mistaken me for Macey McHenry. Ever.
But it was dark, and even without access to the world's greatest closet for deception and disguise, Macey was still the daughter of a cosmetics heiress. And in a wig and Zach's old jacket, she made for a good decoy, or at least good enough.
"Where's Cammie?" Zach asked.
"You look disappointed to see me, Zach," Macey teased. "Don't you like my jacket?"
"Where is she?" Zach demanded.
"At school," Macey lied without missing a beat. "Watching from a live video feed. "She's safe." She inched closer, staring up at him.
"The jammers at the school wouldn't allow that, Macey. Now where is he?" he turned. "I know she's around here somewhere," he said, scanning the alleys and buildings that lined the square.
"She's safe where she is, Zach." Bex stepped out of the darkened alcove by the movie theater and moved into place behind him. "And we're going to keep it that way."
"I need to talk to her," he told them.
"So talk," Macey said. "We've got comms. She can hear."
"I need to see her."
"I'm coming down," I blurted, desperate to be off the sidelines, but Bex's hand was on her ear. She was shouting at me. "You stay where you are!"
But I was already gone.
"She's lucky to have you," Zach said after a long time. "She needs you."
"What are you doing here, Zach?" Macey asked, but Zach only shook his head. He looked down at the ground.
"It's complicated."
"So un-complicate it." Even as I said the words, I knew I might regret them. And soon.
Maybe Zach was bait and I was walking into a trap. Maybe Bex would save the Circle the trouble and kill me on the spot, but I couldn't stay away.
"You're with him," I said.
"Technically, he's on an errand halfway around the world right now," Zach tried to joke, but my mind raced on.
"Liz and Macey told me that just because you go to Blackthore doesn't mean . . ." My voice caught. "But you really are with him."
"Gallagher Girl, listen to me."
"So . . . what happened, Zach? Did the Circle recruit you too?"
He looked at me for a long time before he lowered his head and whispered, "Not exactly."
At the edge of the square, a streetlight flickered. Shadows crept across the grass for a split second, and I flinched, remembering the last I'd been alone with Zach and the lights had gone out. I remembered the sound of a gunshot and the sight of my aunt falling to the dark street, while one of the Circle's agents stood between me and freedom. But instead of firing, he had looked at Zach and said, "You?"
"What are you doing here, Zach?" I asked, my throat suddenly too dry.
"He asked me to get a message to you."
"So send me a message! What was so important that I had to risk my friends' safety to sneak out here?" I demanded. "Huh? What was so -"
"I had to see you." He closed the space between us. His hands were warm from his pockets as they closed around my fingers. "I had to know that you were okay. I had to see you and touch you and . . . know."
He brushed my hair away from my face, his fingers light against my skin. "In London . . ." He trailed off. "After D.C. . . ."
"I'm fine," I said, easing away. "CAT scans and X-rays were normal. No lasting damage."
Most people believe me when I lie. I've learned how to say the words just right. I have a trusting kind of face. But the boy in front of me was a trained operative, so Zach knew better. And besides, Zach knew me.