"Yeah." He smiled. "Well, I heard that Macey McHenry was going to be making her first post-convention public appearance here today"—he stood and brushed some stray confetti from my hair—"and where there's one Gallagher Girl, there are usually others."
His smile deepened, and at that moment I seriously thought I would scream (but for a totally different reason.)
"We're like smoke and fire that way," I stuttered, trying my best to act cooler than I felt.
He smiled his slow, knowing smile. "Something like that."
And then a whole new kind of panic hit me—ZACH WAS THERE! Because he knew Macey was going to be there? And because he thought I might be with Macey?
(Note to self: Modify Liz's boy-to-English translator to account for multiple interpretations at once!)
That couldn't be it—could it? Was it possible that Zachary Goode had broken out of his top-secret spy school because this was his first chance at seeing me outside of my top secret spy school?
Oh.
My.
Gosh.
Could I go back to battling rooftop attackers now? Because at least with rooftop attackers you know where you stand! But boys—especially that boy—seemed to always be a mystery.
I heard the crowd erupt into applause again as the governor continued his speech, but it felt like all of that was taking place on the other side of the earth.
"I thought you'd vowed to stay out of secret passageways and laundry chutes, but I guess…" he started but didn't finish. Instead he reached up and traced the bruise that had all but faded along my hairline, and I felt something that has absolutely nothing to do with blunt force trauma.
And then something dawned on me. "How did you know about the laundry chute?"
Zach took a deep breath then smiled and pointed to himself like he used to do and said, "Spy."
I heard a voice in my earpiece say, "Chameleon, I know you're being Chameleony, but if you could wave or something, or tell me where you are, that would be great."
"Bleachers," I told her.
"Bex?" Zach guessed.
"Yeah," I answered.
"So you've got backup?" It was a truly weird question in what was shaping up to be a truly weird day, so for a second I just stood there, wondering if he was asking me as a boy or if he was asking as a spy. "The girls are here? And Solomon?"
"Of course they are."
But then one of the hundreds of voices in my ear was saying "Alpha team, there's movement under the bleachers," and in a flash I moved.
"Zach, there's someone under—"
I stopped. I realized we were the people under the bleachers.
"You!" one of the agents called. But as I spun to face him, his right hand, which had been inching toward where his regulation sidearm was holstered, relaxed. He almost smiled. And maybe for the first time ever I realized how totally advantageous being a sixteen-year-old girl can be.
"Miss," the agent said, "this area is restricted. I'm going to have to ask you to go back behind the barricades."
"Oh my gosh," I said, sounding a tad bit ditzier than my IQ might suggest. "I had to go to the bathroom so bad, so we—"
"We?" the agent said, going on alert again. He scanned the area. Big men in dark suits appeared out of nowhere. The earpiece was alive with chatter and commands.
"I was …" I started, the words coming harder now. And still I kept turning and looking.
But Zach was already gone.
Chapter Thirteen
"Yeah, we were looking for a bathroom." A voice came slicing through the barricade of agents in dark suits that surrounded me. Even though Secret Service agents are notoriously smart and incredibly well trained, everyone around me seemed to cower at the sight of Macey McHenry.
I watched my roommate turn to the agents and summon her inner Gallagher Girl (the snobby kind). "Do you have a problem with that?"
And that's how a chameleon was saved by a peacock.
"Thanks, boys," Aunt Abby said, appearing at Macey's side. "I think we can take it from here."
As dark suits scattered, my aunt took me by the arm and led me out from under the bleachers and into the sun of the main staging area while she softly sang, "I'm gonna tell your mother."
"I'm sorry, Aunt Abby," I told her. "I just"—I thought about Zach…mysterious Zach…suddenly disappearing
Zach—"saw something," I said—not someone.
But my aunt was shaking her head. "I don't even want to know how you got back here," She stopped. "Wait, you'd better tell me how you got back here."
After I explained, she walked twenty feet to where a security detail stood around a row of dark Suburbans.
"Emergency extraction vehicles," I said, turning to Macey, who was too busy staring at my feet to marvel at any of the totally cool surveillance things going on around us.
"I'll give you five hundred dollars if you trade me shoes," Macey said. I looked down at the pumps her mother had no doubt forced her into, and I totally knew she wasn't joking. But you can't put a price on comfort (as all pavement artists know), so I pretended like I didn't hear her, which wasn't all that hard considering that I absolutely had other things on my mind!
Zach had come to the rally! To see me?
"Macey, you're never going to believe who I just—"
"Hey," a voice cut me off. "I know you!"
I recognized the voice, but more than that I recognized the look on Macey's face as Preston came into view.
"Don't you have a baby to kiss?" Macey said with a sigh.