Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

They arrive in the dead of night. Everyone knows that the worst time to disturb a spy is during her beauty sleep, but the intruders didn’t make a sound as they pulled up to The Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. They blended in perfectly with the shadows cast by the stone walls. Their footsteps left no impression on the carpet in the entrance hall. While one hundred girls were curled up in their beds, dreaming of arson and ice cream, they lay unaware of the new challenge that would await them when they awoke…

Chapter 1

Operative Report

Agent Name: Cameron Ann Morgan

Agent Title: Spy-in-training

If you go to school for spies, you learn to expect the unexpected. Teachers in disguise? No biggie. Lean against a door and find a secret passage? Comes with the territory. Student on fire? At least she’s learning. But I don’t think anyone was expecting the events of that morning.

When the warning bell rings for breakfast, Liz is still looking under her bed for her sock. She’s already banged her head several times and I’m surprised she hasn’t given herself a concussion. Bex has already been up for an hour doing her morning yoga in the corner.

“Still on UK time,” she’d smiled smugly at me, upside down. Macey’s stood by the wardrobe, trying to decide which pair of boots to wear for the first day of the new year.

“If we have CoveOps, definitely these. But these would go so well with my skirt! What do you think, Cammie?” One of those boots got thrown at me 5 minutes ago in an attempt to get me out of bed. I eye them warily.

“Ow!” Liz gives another muffled yelp from the ground.

“Alright!” Bex is in full team leader mode. “Lizzie, here’s one of my socks. Macey, wear the docs. I don’t want another semester of you complaining about how much your feet hurt. And Cammie, you’ve buttoned your shirt wrong.”

I look down and realise yep, I’ve misaligned the buttons and the holes in my sleepy haze. Before I can correct it, the second bell rings.

“Everyone out!” Bex is dragging a hopping Liz, who’s trying to get her shoe on over mismatched socks.

“Bex, you need to chill! ” Macey groans, stomping after them in her Doc Martens. I smile.

It’s good to be back.

First breakfast is accompanied by the usual first day back chatter (in German, naturally).

“Und dann, sagte ich “Oh, Liebling! Du hast keine Ahnung!”” Tina is saying, to peals of laughter. “Hallo, Cammie! Wie war deine Ferien?”

“In Ordnung, ein bisschen langweilig.” I shrug. “Und du?”

Before I can answer, the double doors at the end of the hall open and the staff file in. As we stand, I can see Macey craning her neck, then rolling her eyes at Professor Smith, who’s decided that giant moustache was the way to go disguise-wise this year. He also seems to be several inches shorter; Buckingham stands head and shoulders taller next to him. I’m sure Macey will give me a full rundown of her judgement later. Smith is chatting to Madame Dabney as she monograms a handkerchief and Mosckowitz is having an animated discussion with Dr Fibbs involving a lot of arm-waving.

In the middle of it all stands, in my opinion, the greatest spy on Earth. Rumour has it that she once managed to single-handedly take down an entire terrorist organisation, armed with only a hairgrip and a rubber band, on her wedding day. She’s a legend, an icon. She’s my mother, Rachel Morgan. She raises her arms to us.

“Women of the Gallagher Academy, who comes here?”

“We are the sisters of Gillian,” we respond, and I can’t help but beam.

“Why do you come?”

“To learn her skills. Honour her sword. And keep her secrets.”

“To what end do you work?”

“To the cause of justice and light.”

“How long will you strive?”

“For all the days of our lives.”

I smile around at the girls surrounding me, a sisterhood reunited. There’s a buzz in the air, even though no one’s speaking. You can feel the nerves of the new girls, the excitement of the older ones, determination, and pride. I can feel a small wave of sadness coming off my mom. I know the new year makes her miss Dad. She catches my eye and gives me a nod before continuing to speak.

“Welcome to a new year at the Gallagher Academy! This year, things will be a little different, as we will be hosting some very special guests.” Guests? She didn’t mention this at dinner last night when I asked what was new! Who could they be? Recruiters from the AlphaNet? World leaders wanting extra security?

“Thanks to Mr Soloman, we’ve managed to arrange what I hope will be an informative and educational experience for you all.” Joe Soloman takes my mom’s hand (ew).

“Ladies, please give a warm welcome to…”

The doors burst open and everyone turns.

“...The Blackthorne Institute for Strength and Survival!”

Chapter Text

I can feel myself trying not to stare as about 15 students walk in and gather around the extra table that’s been laid for them. I can see most of them whispering to each other, staring at us with curious expressions that I’m sure are reflected in our own faces. All except one girl, who walks like she was dragged here and doesn’t talk to anyone.

Behind the students, a small man is striding up the centre aisle, waving at various girls as he does so. I catch Liz giving a confused wave back out of the corner of my eye. When he gets to my mother’s podium, he shakes her hand with such enthusiasm, I’m worried he’s going to pull it out of its socket (I’ve heard that she did that to someone once in a fight over who was going to pay the bill). He turns to face the hall.

“Hello, Gallagher Academy! On behalf of everyone at Blackthorne, thank you for having us. I’m Dr Steven Sanders, but you can all call me Dr Steve!” Dr Steve? What kind of name is that? Who does he think he is, Benedict Cumberbatch?

“It is such an honour to be able to come and learn about your ways, Gallagher Academy!” He smiles a wide, red-faced smile. “And, I hope, perhaps there are some things that we can teach you this year as well.”

As a scattered applause starts, he takes the spare seat at the end of the line next to Dr Fibbs and my mom steps back up to the podium.

“Thank you, er…” I can see her trying not to grimace. “...Dr Steve.” He gives her a thumbs up and she turns back to the room.

“The students of Blackthorne are going to be spending the semester here, learning alongside you as we enter this year. I hope that you all take the opportunity to make our guests feel welcome. Now,” she claps her hands. “Let’s eat!”

A polite young lady must always remember to wait her turn and calmly form a queue when waiting for something. A good spy knows what her mission is and she executes it as efficiently as she can. That’s why one hundred girls scramble from their seats all at once, forming a mob around the table with plates loaded high with bacon, sausages, scrambled egg, fruit and more.

It’s times like this when I like to use my secret weapon. No, not the grappling hook, my other secret weapon: the elbows of steel. I manage to get to near the front of the haphazard line that’s forming, but then I hear Liz behind me.

“Cammie!” she squeaks. I can barely see her struggling in the surging crowd.

“Liz!” I reach out and grasp her hand. “Don’t let go!”

But I can feel the mob moving around us, forcing us to near the back. By the time I get to her, there are only a few of the newbies behind us.

“Gee, Cam, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I pat Liz on the back. “We’ll get to the front eventually.”

When we do get near the serving table, though, there are only two of the hash browns left. The horror! Liz and I grab plates, piling them up with food. As I go to grab the tongs for the hash browns, one of the Blackthorne students snatches them up first and serves herself both of them!

“Hey!” I whirl around to face a girl with wavy chocolate-brown hair cascading to her shoulders. It’s the same girl from before, the one who looked like she couldn’t care less about being here. She’s wearing a beaten leather jacket over her Blackthorne uniform of a grey jumper and grey-and-yellow tie. An amused smirk forms on her face as she tilts her head down at me.

“Hey, Gallagher girl. Something wrong?” She raises an eyebrow like she’s trying to give me a dare. Unluckily for her, I always choose dare.

“I was gonna have those.” I narrow my eyes in what I hope is an intimidating manner. “But now, we’re gonna have problems.”

I hear whispers start behind me as the newbies catch onto what’s happening.

“Is that so?” the girl, no the thief, laughs. “Well then,” she leans in so close, I can see the faint freckles on her cheeks, the flecks of gold in her brown eyes.

“Game on, Gallagher girl.”

She starts to stride away but stops after a second.

“Oh, and one more thing.” She smirks again and points at me. “You buttoned your shirt wrong.”

Chapter Text

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad.” Bex pats my back as we head to P&E, Macey and Liz in tow.

“She took what was rightfully mine!” I whine. “And she humiliated me in front of the entire school!”

“Don’t you think you’re being a tad dramatic?” Coming from Bex, who’ll show up late just to make an entrance.

“Look, Cam,” pipes up Macey from behind us. “The best thing you can do now is beat up a training dummy. You can let out your feelings and show everyone that you’re still one of the most lethal spies in this place.”

“I guess…”

When we enter the P&E barn, however, there isn’t a training dummy in sight. Not even a punching bag. Mick Morrison looks extremely disappointed.

“Alright!” Ms Hancock claps her hands together. “Now that you’re juniors, we’re going to be concentrating less on dummy techniques and focusing more on hand-to-hand combat.”

Everyone starts murmuring excitedly, except for Liz, who just swallows.

“Now,” Ms Hancock raises her hands and we quieten down. “You know the basic techniques. But practising with other people is going to be more like what you’ll face in the field. Knowing how to bring an opponent down means assessing them for weaknesses. And every opponent will have weaknesses. Here are some things to look out for.”

I start to zone out - my dad taught me all of this stuff when we used to spar when I was little - and my eyes wander, checking out who’s in the class this year. My dorm, Tina, Courtney and Mick and some Blackthorne students, including her. The hash brown heister. At that moment, she turns and winks at me, before concentrating on the lesson again. What does that mean?

“Okay, I’m going to split you into pairs. Sutton, why don’t you go with…” I see Liz cross her fingers at her side. “...Morrison.” Poor Liz’s eyes go wide as she stumbles over to Mick, who’s easily twice her size. Mick’s a decent enough person, but she can sometimes forget her strength. I pray she’ll go easy on Liz.

“Baxter, let’s put you with one of our guests.” She points at one of the Blackthorne students, a muscular boy with brown hair and green eyes. He’s holding hands with the skinny bespeckled boy next to him. “What’s your name?”

“Grant Newman,” he responds, walking over to stand next to Bex. Macey and Tina get paired together and Courtney ends up with Grant’s boyfriend, Jonas.

“That just leaves Morgan and-”

“Goode. Zoe Goode,” the breakfast burglar interrupts smirking that ridiculous smirk.

“Brilliant!” says Ms Hancock. “Everyone find a space on the mats and we’ll get started.”

“Hey again Gallagher Girl,” taunts Zoe, once we find a space facing each other.

“Hey Blackthorne BITCH, enjoy your breakfast?” I retaliate, forming a fighting stance. She mirrors me, a smile playing on her lips.

“Not as much as I’m going to enjoy this, I’m sure.”

I examine her. Her hair is up in a messy bun and her t-shirt is rumpled. There are stains on her trainers and one of her socks is pulled up. I look for an attack point in her stance, the way she’s leaning slightly backwards and twisting away. She’s preparing to attack, so I quickly force her to defend. I run at her, jumping and aiming for her shoulders (“The bigger they are,” etc.), bringing her toppling onto the mat with me crouching over her, still gripping her shoulders.

“Gotcha,” I wink at her.

“How do you know?” She seems way too calm for someone who should be winded. “How do you know I don’t have you right where I want you?”

“Huh?”

Before I can blink, she’s swept my legs out from under me and flipped us over so she’s leaning over me, arm braced across my shoulders.

“I have an extra move up my sleeve,” she pants, getting to her feet. “Here.” She holds out a hand. I respond by getting to my feet without taking it, then reform my fighting stance.

“Again!”

***

Over that day, Zoe and I compete over everything: who knows more swear words in French, who can tie a double dragon loop knot the fastest, who’s had flu more times (five times, sucker!). Word of our rivalry spreads around the school and by C&A I spot Courtney and Macey shaking hands over a bet over how long it’ll take for one of us to perform the Craning River manoeuvre on the other. Before I can berate Macey about it, Madame Dabney is sweeping into the classroom, the smell of roses wafting in ahead of her.

“Good afternoon, students!” she trills.

“Good afternoon, Madame Dabney,” we chorus.

“You may sit.”

The C&A classroom is set up like a small tearoom, with round tables topped with gingham cloths and polka-dotted teapots. Cushions are scattered around the room, with rules about espionage and etiquette hand-stitched onto them. I take a seat on one with: “Wait and observe, then strike the spinal nerve,” stitched on in pink swirly writing.

“Now class, I have some very exciting news!” Madame Dabney takes a moment to arrange her skirts around her chair. “This semester’s C&A final will be… a ball!”

I see Courtney and Anna turn to each other and squeal, Macey immediately starts sketching an outfit and Liz smiles at Bex, blushing slightly. Then I catch Zoe rolling her eyes from across the room. How dare she? Why did she even come here if she clearly doesn’t care about learning how we do things at the Gallagher Academy? I glare at the back of her head as the class turns its attention back to the front. That’ll show her.

“You will each be given legends,” Madame Dabney continues, “and your job will be to determine who you can trust to be your ally and who you should protect yourself from. All while maintaining flawless ball etiquette!”

She claps her hands, clearly as excited as us about a night of strict rules and regulations.

“Now, everyone help to move the tables to either end of the classroom and we’ll get started with dance lessons!”

Uh oh. Fighting, I can handle. Code cracking? Piece of cake. But Grandma Morgan always says that my feet have more stomping ability than an elephant wearing moon boots. And she would know, I stepped on her toes several times when she was trying to teach me how to lindy hop.

I think Liz can sense my hesitation.

“It’ll be okay, Cammie,” she says. “We can just take it one step at a time.”

“You know what Liz? You’re right.” I put my arm around her. “If I can learn to flip someone onto their back without breaking a sweat or a nail, I suppose a waltz can’t be too hard.”

Madame Dabney has changed into high-heeled ballroom shoes and calls for our attention.

“As the Blackthorne Institute is disguised as a dance academy, it might be an idea for some Blackthorne students to pair up with some of our more… ahem… rhythmically challenged girls.”

I’m almost too stuck on the dance academy revelation to be offended by that comment. Almost.

“Miss Goode, why don’t you help Cammie out?”

Of course.

“Gladly.” Zoe glides over to me, hands in her jacket pockets. “So Gallagher Girl, you dance like you tie knots?”

“For the millionth time, I had sweaty hands,” I say through gritted teeth as we curtsey to each other. “And don’t call me that.”

“I’m sure,” replies Zoe confidently, holding out her hand. “Just as I’m sure that you’re probably going to step on my feet.”

“Oh I can guarantee that, don’t you worry.” I feel a smile of my own forming as we step into hold.

“Prepare yourself for a world of pain.”

Chapter Text

The next week is accompanied by the usual settling-into-school activities: homework at the breakfast table, remembering which classes you’ve missed over the summer (and which ones you definitely haven’t), discovering new passageways, checking old passageways for where you’ve hidden emergency food (a good spy always has backup M&Ms) and gossiping late into the night about the new kids on the block. Theories have already emerged about some of them. Rumour has it that Grant once punched a CIA agent in the face and apparently Jonas was recruited after he managed to programme a drone to assassinate the last president. The story goes that he still has it, but is too moral to use it. (Note to self: get a hold of that drone).

An even more popular conversation topic is the ball. Who’s going with who, what everyone’s wearing, legends, aliases, dance techniques, fan techniques, etiquette rules. It seems like so much to think about for one night. Macey even designs an obstacle course to try to get us all prepared for every possibility. (I doubt there’ll be a killer wasp nest above the dancefloor, but it’s good to be prepared). One weekend, we all head into town to try to find outfits. Liz buys the first dress she tries on, then returns to running formulas for some new machine she’s working on for Research and Development (something about “DNA trails?”). Macey immediately becomes the go-to for fashion advice and ends up pretty much choosing everyone’s outfits for them. For me, she picks out a red strapless ball gown with a few silver embellishments.

“It’s simple,” explains Macey. “Yet elegant.”

“And it has pockets!” I gasp.

“Of course! What kind of monster do you think I am that I’ll leave anyone without pockets?”

We spend the rest of the day doing normal teen stuff: we catch a movie, eat rubbish diner food, then waste money on acing a load of arcade games (CoveOps training has a wide variety of uses). Throughout all of this, I catch Zoe out of the corner of my eye, standing apart from the rest of the group. Weird. I would’ve thought she’d just love to prove that she was better than everyone at yet another thing. I’ve decided to not let her bother me, though.

As the sun sets, we walk back up to the Gallagher Academy, shopping bags in our hands and sleepy laughter in the air. I look up at the tall stone mansion that’s been my home for the past four years. I’m still struck by how beautiful it is and how lucky I am to actually be a student here. I take a glance back at my fellow students, my sisters. Bex and Liz are whispering and giggling, arm in arm. Macey’s in her new sunglasses that make her look even more like a supermodel, except for the smile. Anna, Tina and Kim are taking turns kicking a stone around with a girl from Blackthorne. Yet, a few paces from the back of the group, Zoe walks with her head down, hands in her jacket pockets. She stops and glances up at me and I quickly turn to look the other way.

A couple more weeks pass. More assignments, sublevel two, an argument over who took Courtney’s hair curler. Sleepovers and movie nights, new bruises in P&E and meals with my mom. I beat Zoe at chess and she beats me at an impromptu dance-off we all have after C&A one afternoon. I still don’t know what’s up with her. One minute she seems to be her usual stuck-up, confident, jerk self, taunting and teasing. The next, she seems… deflated. I know if I talked to her it would probably make her angry so I just leave it.

Until one day, when I find her crying in the library.

“Zoe?” I ask gently. She’s sitting at a desk in the heart of the library. She has a notebook and pen in front of her but the notebook page is blank. “What’s wrong?”

“Go away.” Her voice is low but sharp. In the lamplight, her pinched face looks ghoulish.

“I can see something’s bothering you,” I try again.

“What do you care?” she sniffs and wipes her nose on her leather jacket sleeve. “Would’ve thought you’d be happy to see me like this.”

I start to protest, but I guess that is the impression I’ve given off. “Zoe-.” I reach a hand across the desk towards her but stop when she flinches. She folds her arms and ducks her head into them on the table. I leave her for a minute while I try to think of what to say.

“Look,” I sigh. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.” A snort from Zoe. Is this progress? Or am I making things worse? “I really am sorry that you’re upset. Are you sure you don’t wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Silence. I start to push my chair back, knowing that she won’t want to speak to me, of all people.

“You have all these friends.” I freeze where I am, then tuck my chair back in.

“What?”

“You know, Bex, Liz, Macey, Anna, Tina…”

“You’re crying because I have friends?” Wow, I knew she didn’t like me, but to be upset because I have friends-.

“That’s not what I mean.” She flicks her head up to look at me. “I mean that you have this whole sisterhood thing. You’re all so close and I’m… not.” She casts her eyes down and at that moment, I see her for who she really is.

Zoe Goode is sharp and witty and wicked smart. But she’s also something else I hadn’t spotted before: alone. She’s the one who always ends up taking the photos, not being in them. The one who acts like she’s above everyone else to hide how apart she is from everyone else. She’s another one who didn’t tell everyone about her summer at the beginning of the semester, not because she has no story to tell, but because no one asked.

“ Zoe-.”

“Cammie, stop. I don’t need your sympathy. I don’t need anything from you or anyone else.” She starts to get up.

“I could be your friend!” My voice is probably too loud to be library-appropriate. If I reach a certain number of decibels, books will start flying off the shelves at me as punishment, so I lower my voice. “I could be your friend,” I repeat.

“Pfft,” says Zoe derisively. “No, you couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“We’re enemies . ”

“‘Enemies’ is a strong word.”

“Rivals then.”

“I can be your friend and still kick your ass.”

Zoe starts laughing at that. “ I kicked your ass, remember?” I start joining in until I’m shushing us both because I think I can hear the bookshelf winding up to kick both our asses.

“Ok,” I hold out my hand. “Friends/rivals?”

Zoe shakes it. “You’re on, Gallagher Girl.”

I drop her hand and we start to head towards the exit. “You called me Cammie before.”

“No I didn’t,” she denies.

“Did.”

She gives me a friendly shove. “ Didn’t .”

I shove her back, then one-up her by pinning her against a bookshelf. “ Did. ”

“Fine,” she smiles, cocking her head. “But tell anyone and I’ll kick your ass. Because apparently I’m allowed to and you know that I can.” I release her and we resume walking. “Seriously, though.” Her voice softens and she smiles. “Thank you.”

I can’t help but smile back.

Chapter Text

As the first chill of winter set into the air, many changes set themselves into motion at the Gallagher Academy: the wind started to pick up, causing students to get out their winter coats and earmuffs (equipped with enough heat packs to last you through a small blizzard and hot chocolate that you could drink through a tube on the move); the sun started setting earlier and earlier and classes were getting increasingly more difficult. Perhaps the most surprising change, though, was brought up in our room that night.

“So what, you and Zoe are actually friends now?” Macey asks incredulously while she paints Liz’s nails a baby pink.

“Yeah, I guess,” I shrug. “M&M?” I hold out the packet and Macey shakes her head.

“I’ll take one!” Liz pipes up, but Macey sternly holds her hand in place.

“Nope. Not after last time. If you swallow any more nail polish, your digestive system will never forgive you.” When she turns to dip the brush back into the bottle, Bex presses an M&M into Liz’s other hand and she quickly stuffs it in her mouth, grinning. Macey pretends not to notice.

“It is weird to think about, Cammie,” Bex says as she drops several other M&Ms into her mouth while she’s hanging upside down off the side of my bed (the oesophagus cares not about gravity). “A couple of weeks ago, you were at each other’s throats. Now you’re sitting next to each other in COW, taking assignments with her for CoveOps…”

Liz’s hands fly up. “She is?”

“Liz!” snaps Macey.

“Oopsy daisy.”

Macey gently lays Liz’s hand back onto the table. “Bex does have a point. Although I would be lying if I said I wasn’t glad to see the back of your silly rivalry.”

“ Silly? ”

“I’ll admit it was entertaining at first, but it was starting to seem like you were just being petty for the sake of it. You were both constantly trying to outdo the other, almost like you were secretly trying to impress-. ”

“Woah, woah, woah!” I’m waving my arms around, feeling myself go red. Bex and Liz glance at each other. “That’s not what was happening at all! We were just-.”

“Gotcha!” Macey grins. “Alright, Liz you’re done. Cammie, pass us another M&M.”

I look to where Bex is shovelling the last of them into her mouth. “We’re all out,” I say, reaching for my pillow.

“Are we now?” Macey slowly does the same and Bex’s face freezes in terror. “Rebecca Baxter, prepare to meet your maker!”

With a squeal, Macey and I run at Bex and attack her with pillows, all of us laughing. Liz looks on with a gentle smile, holding her hand away from the fray.

“Seriously though Cam,” Bex wheezes once we’ve all collapsed into a heap on the floor. “I’m glad you guys are friends now. You seem to make each other happier.”

***

The next day, Bex invites Zoe to come and hang out with us at the library while we go over our work for C&A. In between quizzes from Liz’s colour-coded flashcards and snacking on cookies that I managed to get from the kitchen, Zoe entertains us with stories from Blackthorne. One time, she, Grant and Jonas pulled a prank on Dr Steve where they kept attaching clothespegs to him. It took about 20 for him to notice and by that time, even the teachers were having a go at it. Between peals of hushed laughter, we manage to tutor Zoe through the knowledge side of the C&A final. Since Blackthorne’s disguised as a super-strict dance academy, all of the students are classically trained dancers, so she was very prepared there. It seems though that C&A isn’t really a thing at Blackthorne.

“I just don’t get it,” whines Zoe after a particularly aggressive interrogation from Liz about the history of polka dots. (The girl may look sweet, but when it comes to pop quizzes she is lethal ). “How is knowing all of this stuff meant to make us better spies? And isn’t it kind of patronising to be learning all of this?”

“Patronising?” asks Bex, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s just.” Zoe sighs and fiddles with the cuffs of her leather jacket. “As women, haven’t we been the ones learning to sew and set a table and be polite for too long? Wouldn’t you rather learn how to fight or change a tire or something?”

“We do learn all those things,” I say. “We just learn this too.”

“But why?”

“Because these are valid and useful skills for everyone, not just women. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to sew up a hole in my uniform, or know the different members of the Russian royal family in a CoveOps simulation.” Bex and Macey nod in agreement.

“Plus,” adds Macey, “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying girly things either. I’m not a weak woman for liking dressing up or putting on makeup. I know I look fabulous, but the moment a man is creepy about it, I’m kicking him in the face.” She flips her hair with a smirk.

“Macey, McHenry,” I say. “Please never change.” She blows me a kiss.

“I guess you have a point,” says Zoe. “Feminism is about letting women be who they are without it meaning that they mean less than a man. Skills that women traditionally have shouldn’t be valued any less than those a man would have.”

“And who’s to say what’s a ‘man’s skill’ and what’s a ‘woman’s skill,’ anyway?” Liz pipes up. “Tech is traditionally a man’s job and I’m the best in the business.” She beams a small proud smile.

“Hell yeah, my girl knows what she’s about!” Bex says as she and Liz high five.

“Ok fine, you’ve convinced me.” Zoe rolls her eyes but she’s laughing. She meets my eyes and her gaze turns serious. “Liz, read out the next question, please.”

***

As the sun sets over the sweeping lawns surrounding the mansion, we pack up our things to head up to bed. I lay my exhausted head on the table, my brain turned to mush. Liz pokes me on the arm with a pencil.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, you guys go on without me.”

The sound of their retreating footsteps fades away and I slowly raise my head to see Zoe still standing over the table, bag slung over her shoulder. Her head is tilted and her brow is furrowed.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks. I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

“I’m worried about the final.”

She sits back down next to me. I lean my head onto her shoulder, inhaling her scent: meadowgrass with a hint of lemon.

“Cammie, you aced those questions just now.” She rubs a hand in a circle across my back in a comforting gesture. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“It’s not that part that I’m worried about.” I tilt my head back up to meet her eyes. I see the same flecks of gold that I noticed when I first saw her. They look like stars against the dark brown of her irises. “It’s the dancing part I feel unprepared for. I just don’t feel like there’s enough time for me to get it.”

“Is that all?” she smiles and gives my shoulder a shake. “Why didn’t you just say so, silly? I can help you!”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course!” She gives me a nudge. “We’re friends now, remember? We help each other out. I can give you extra lessons if you like? When are you free?”

“How’s tomorrow after COW?”

“You’re on Gallagher girl.” She stands up. “Now come on, you’re gonna make us late for dinner.”

Chapter Text

After COW the next day, Zoe and I find an empty classroom and push some of the tables to the edge to form a clear space in the centre. Both of us stand facing each other, me fiddling with my hair and her with the sleeve of her jacket.

“So, uh,” she places a hand on the back of her neck, then puts it in her pocket. “Did you want to…” She holds out her hand, not meeting my eyes. “Come over here?”

Is Zoe Goode nervous?

I cross the room and take her hand, getting into hold. With only two of us in here, I’m more aware of how close we are when we’re like this. Her hand on my waist, mine on her shoulder. Our chests touching, our faces close.

Zoe clears her throat.

Right. Dancing.

“How did you want to start?” she asks.

“Well, to be honest, I never really followed anything Madame Dabney was saying…”

“Trust me, I know,” Zoe winks. It’s really, really difficult to hide a blush from someone standing that close to you. “So we’ll take it slowly.” Her voice is low, like we’re standing in a room with much less empty space. I’m reminded again of how different this is from the crowded C&A classroom.

“Tell me what to do,” I murmur, matching her.

“Take a step with your left foot, leading with the heal.”

I take a step and Zoe winces.

“On my count!” she says weakly.

“Sorry,” I mutter, trying to suppress a laugh. Zoe gives me a small smile.

“Again. One, two, three…”

We move together a step and I immediately jump out of hold. “We did it!”

“That was one step, Gallagher Girl.” Zoe has her arms folded but she’s smiling her cocksure smile. She holds out her hand. “Can we try adding another?”

“Yes, definitely we can do that.”

We get back into hold, my hand finding her shoulder easily after the many weeks we’ve spent attempting to dance together.

“Okay, next step. Once your left foot is forwards, bring your right foot so you’re standing with your feet slightly apart. One, two three.”

I do the same as last time, making sure that my right foot is stuck out to the side.

“This looks slightly ridiculous,” I say.

“Right, so now you bring your left foot to your right to close.”

“Like this?”

“Exactly, you’ve got it!” Zoe’s beaming at me and I can’t help but grin back. “Okay, let’s do that again but this time bend your knees during the first step, then move onto the balls of your feet. That’s how you get the rise and fall.”

We do the step again and stand there on our toes for a moment.

“Now,” Zoe’s voice is low again. “Do the same thing again, but this time step back with your right foot and then to the left.”

I try but end up dragging Zoe in the wrong direction. I let out a frustrated grunt.

“Hey, it’s ok. Try it again. Visualise the box pattern on the floor, remember?”

Zoe takes a step back to give me space and I try not to notice how it makes the air slightly colder around me. The thing Madame Dabney said about a box makes so much more sense now. I try again.

Forward, side, side. Back, side, side.

“I did it!” I yell.

“You did it!” Zoe runs at me and scoops me up, spinning me around like we’re in a corny rom-com.

“Put me down!” I laugh. We had the exact same situation in P&E three weeks ago, but that time I solved the issue with an elbow to the solar plexus.

This time, Zoe puts me down and asks, “Did you want to try adding a turn?”

“Yes, let’s do this! I am PUMPED!”

Zoe rolls her eyes then slowly (very slowly) we start to dance what actually resembles a waltz. Eventually, I start to relax into it, especially with Zoe occasionally giving me encouraging smiles. It’s strange, during C&A when we dance like this we’re usually joking around, stepping on each other’s toes, exchanging insults, but now it’s so quiet. If I listen carefully enough, I can hear Zoe’s slow breathing along with mine.

“You know,” she says, breaking the silence. “You’re kind of a goofball when you’re not trying to kill me.”

“Am I?” I blink.

“You’re the one who said you were, and I quote, “so pumped” to dance with me,” she drawls.

“Woah there, Zo. I never said I was pumped to dance with you. ”

“Well, isn’t that a shame?” she smirks. I remember when that smirk used to make my blood boil. Now I just match it with one of my own.

“Why is it a shame?” Her face turns serious and she stops dancing, stepping away from me. “Zoe?”

“I was gonna ask..” She bites her lip, and then clears her throat.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to go to the ball with me?”

***

“So you have a date with Zoe Goode?”

“She never said anything about a date, Bex!”

Bex rolls her eyes at me. “But she asked you to the ball!”

“Friends can go to the ball together! You and Liz are going together, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but-.”

“Cammie!” Tina Walters is rushing towards where Bex and I are sitting on beanbags in the corner of the common room.

“Oh hey, Tina!” I stop talking when I see the look on her face. Her eyes are wide and she looks like she’s shaking slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“Can I talk to you for a second?” she’s talking fast and panicked.

“Yeah, sure.” Tina walks out into the corridor and I follow, exchanging a worried look with Bex. “What’s up?” I ask once we’re outside.

“I’ve come across some information. You’re the only one I can trust.”

“What kind of information?” I whisper.

Tina glances around, then leans in closer. I do the same. “I’m still assessing the situation. I don’t know if it’s safe to tell you. Just keep your eyes peeled and your wits about you. If what I’ve heard is true, we could all be in grave danger.”

Chapter Text

In the movies, when girls are getting ready to go out, they’re dancing around having fun, putting on makeup perfectly like it’s nothing and NOT having to keep going to the bathroom (which in a ballgown, is a mission that must be executed with the utmost precision). Sure, we started off listening to the “Ultimate Ball Bops” playlist we’ve spent the last week perfecting but now it’s become the soundtrack to our descent into utter chaos. Ball prep has exploded its way into our room, challenging us all in new and exciting ways.

Exhibit A: Macey bent over her shoe draw muttering under her breath, trying to find some ball-appropriate shoes for me to borrow because apparently if you can’t walk in heels, trainers aren’t an appropriate alternative.

“Just because they’re gonna be hidden by the skirt doesn't mean that your manky old trainers are allowed within fifty feet of a ballroom, Cammie!” (Our room is within fifty feet of the Great Hall, but now doesn’t seem like a good time to bring that up).

Exhibit B: Me in front of the bathroom mirror, reaching for another makeup wipe because I’ve messed up my eyeliner again. I sort of want to cry, but that would probably make it even worse and I simply don’t have the time for that.

And last but not least, Exhibit C: Bex sitting next to the Gallagher standard-issue 50-piece first aid kit (now with patterned plasters!) treating the burn that Liz got when she grabbed the wrong end of the curling iron.

And it’s not just our room, either. The entire corridor tastes (not smells, tastes ) like hairspray, there seems to be a general shortage of hairgrips and Courtney Bauer and Kim Lee seem to have set up some kind of underground earring black market. We’re all having the time of our lives.

Once Macey’s found me a pair of red pumps, Liz has finished curling her hair and I’ve finally given up and got Bex to do my makeup, we find the other girls for the photo-taking part of the evening. I notice that Tina’s still looking distracted and I give her a small, reassuring smile as she holds up Macey’s phone to snap a picture of the four of us. When I get a look at it, I know that this will definitely be one for the wall.

At one end of the photo, Macey looks gorgeous in a black dress that she designed herself, with a silver trim and plunging neckline (her mother would hate it). Next to her, Bex is in a black tux with her hair half up half down. Her smile is warm as she looks at Liz, who’s looking pretty in her usual waifish way in a salmon pink gown. After her mishap, she managed to curl the front parts of her hair and tie the rest of it back into a loose low bun. On the other end, I’m beaming in my red dress, one of my hands in my (decently sized!) pocket. All of us have our arms around each other, the stress of the evening melting away as we take a moment to look forward to what comes next: the main event.

“You guys ready to go?” Bex asks.

“Let’s do this,” I reply as we walk towards the Great Hall.

***

We’re stood around the corner from the entrance to the Great Hall, taking one last moment to prepare ourselves for whatever might await us in there. Liz starts retrieving flashcards from her clutch bag, but Bex puts a hand over hers to stop her.

“We’ve got this, guys,” she says, looking at all of us. “We’ve spent the whole semester preparing.”

“Yeah,” adds Macey. “Let’s go on in.”

“I said I’d meet Zoe here, you guys go ahead,” I say.

“Ok, see you in there.” Bex takes Liz’s hand and they all turn the corner towards where Boccherini is floating down the corridor. The moment they’re gone, I’m aware of how alone I am. I check my standard-issue Gallagher watch for the time. Where is Zoe? Have I been stood up? Has she been kidnapped? Did she-?

“Well, well, well.” Zoe’s footsteps echo off the walls as she approaches. “You clean up nice, Gallagher girl.”

I’m left speechless for a second.

I didn’t know what I was expecting Zoe to wear but the outfit is so her that the familiarity brings a joyous ache to my chest. Yet, the outfit is different to anything I’ve ever seen her wear before. Or maybe, she just looks different under these lights, with this music. It’s easy to imagine that we’re not in Roseville, Virginia but at a ball in Vienna, just two girls ready to dance the night away together until they’ve worn through their shoes. Zoe’s gone for a shorter dress, not like the longer gowns most of us have gone for. And, of course, she’s donned her usual leather jacket over the top. It shouldn’t work. She should look foolish, out of place. But somehow, on her, it just fits .

“Can’t be seen without the jacket, huh?” I hope she doesn’t hear the slight wobble in my voice.

“Gotta feed my not-like-other-girls complex somehow.” She offers her arm. “Shall we?”

I take it, reminding myself of the fact that we’ve held hands loads of times in dance lessons and this is no different. We’re just following the expected social protocol. As per the assignment. Obviously.

We turn the corner and the Great Hall is looking glorious. Flower displays are adorning the walls, candles in holders giving off flickering light from the edges of the room and Buckingham’s conducting a live orchestra in the corner. The whole place gives off an air of grandeur and sophistication. We make our way over to where Madame Dabney and Mr Soloman are sitting behind a marble table with ornate gold edging.

“Good evening, ladies.” Joe flashes us a smile.

“Good evening,” we both curtsey, as is custom when greeting those of a higher rank. They nod in return.

“Here are your legends for tonight. Remember, your job is to determine who you can trust to be your ally and who to try and avoid.” Madame Dabney hands us both slips of evapopaper. “Examine your legends, dissolve the paper, then mingle and try to see what you can find out without revealing your intentions.”

I take a look at my paper, remembering Mr Soloman’s lessons on learning legends. Learn the smaller details first; these are the ones that’ll make you believable. Once I’m sure I have it memorised, I pop the paper in my mouth and smile. They actually managed to get the chocolate chip flavour for this. I guess minty freshness is a more appropriate smell for this occasion than sticky, stale cotton candy. I see Zoe do the same.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” I tell her. “I am Lady Amelia Andover, Viscountess of Ginoder.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Andover. I am Lady Gertrude Bisbit, Duchess of Nison.” We curtsey to one another. I get the feeling there will be a lot of that tonight.

We’re intercepted by a rushed-looking Tina. “Good evening!” She bobs into a curtsey. “My name is Lady Brightblight.”

“I am Lady Andover and this is Lady Bisbit.” I nod at Zoe.

“May I request an audience with you, Lady Andover?” She’s looking at me, but her eyes keep shifting to Zoe.

“O-of course.” I curtsey back, then turn to Zoe. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“I’ll get us drinks.” She hurries away.

Tina grabs me and escorts me to a corner, where Macey and Courtney appear to be just standing with drinks and judging people.

“Lady Bisbit can’t be trusted,” Tina murmurs, keeping her eyes set on the dance floor. “She’s using you to gain information on our objectives and defences.”

I breathe an internal sigh of relief; she’s just doing the assignment.

“Thank you for the information, my lady.” I curtsey (again!) and turn to walk away, but Tina grabs my arm and yanks me back to the corner.

“I’m serious, Cammie,” she whispers. “I couldn’t before, but I need to tell you that-.”

“Everything alright, ladies?” Zoe’s appeared with two glasses of lemonade.

“We were just-.” Tina starts.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” She’s interrupted by Madame Dabney speaking into a microphone from her table. “It is my pleasure to announce that it’s time for the first dance of the evening!”

“We’ll find you later,” Zoe says to Tina as she ushers me to the dancefloor, placing our lemonades on a tray that Professor Buckingham is carrying. We take our places opposite each other as the orchestra starts up a waltz. We curtsey (sigh) and get into hold. “What was all that about ?” Zoe asks.

“It appears that you and I are enemies,” I say, turning us around the flower-adorned statue of Gillian Gallagher in the centre of the room.

“Well, you know what they say,” smiles Zoe. “Keep your friends close…” I gasp as I find myself tripping over one of her feet, the ground coming up rapidly to meet me. At the last second, Zoe twists me around to catch me in a dip, inches off the ground.

“... and your enemies closer.”

Our faces are so close that she barely has to make any sound at all for me to hear her.

“You did that on purpose!” I protest as my cheeks flame.

“Careful,” she teases, pulling us upright. “You’ll make a scene.”

I respond by raising my eyebrows at her and she laughs, pulling me closer. “I guess I’ll have to keep an eye on you,”

I twirl her under my arm. “I think you’ll find that I always have an extra move up my sleeve,” I say, mirroring her words from P&E.

We’re circling each other now. Zoe looks at the floor a moment, then back up at me.

“I think you’ll find that you’ll have a tough time surprising me, Gallagher Girl.” I place my hands on her waist and lift her, spinning to set her down in front of me. “Don’t go thinking you know me, now.”

I open my mouth to retort but then spot Tina running out of the room. When she glances behind her, there’s a look of terror on her face.

“Excuse me,” I say to Zoe as I rush after her. One of the first lessons I learned here was that a spy should always trust her gut.

My gut’s telling me that something is very, very wrong.

Chapter Text

“LADY BRIGHTBLIGHT!” I yell as I sprint down the corridor after Tina. “LADY BRIGHTBLIGHT!” Honestly, who came up with these ridiculous legend names? “TINA!” I yell, but she still doesn’t turn around. 

When I round the corner, I’ve reached the centre of the mansion. Surrounding me are four corridors arranged like a compass, each leading to a different wing. I have no idea which one Tina went down and she’s so light on her feet that I can’t hear any retreating footsteps. I swear under my breath in Mandarin.

Every book on mazes will tell you that when unsure of where to go, keep turning left and you’ll eventually reach the centre. I had this ingrained in me so young, that now I automatically turn to the left when I don’t know what to do. This is why I run down the corridor to the left of me now, opening the doors I find along the way. No Tina. She could be anywhere inside or outside the mansion by now. Dejected, I sink against the wall. It’s then that I notice that I’ve left the door opposite ajar. Odd. I remembered to close all the others.

I stand up and go to close the door, but then I see the room behind it and step in. With a small click of the door closing behind me, the last of the noises from the ball are silenced. I smile at the room in front of me: the Ward of Weaponry.

This room always reminds me of my dad. He trained me to be competent in a range of traditional weapons from when I was very young. There’s a display of staffs made of various types of wood on the wall next to me. I remember chasing after him with a staff when he seemed impossibly tall, him pretending to struggle as I lunged after him. I walk a few paces forward to the nunchucks.

“This isn’t that effective,” he’d say, “but it sure looks cool.” Then he’d show me how to catch the over end over my arm, under my arm, around my neck. I take a few more steps and he’s showing me how to block an attack from an axe. A few more and he’s showing me how to hold a dagger, a quarterstaff, a tomahawk.

Finally, I reach the end and he’s kneeling to present me with a sword. This was shortly before he died, one of my last memories of him. I pick one up now, a sabre, and give it a few experimental spins by rotating my wrist. It makes a quiet woosh sound.

“Nice sword”

My memory’s interrupted by Zoe stepping around the corner, hands in her jacket pockets. I lower my weapon.

“Zoe. I didn’t hear you come in.”

She points at herself and simply says, “Spy,” before turning to examine the displays around us. “What is this place?”

“The Ward of Weaponry. A living memory of every notable defence device used in Gallagher history,” I recite, taking my words from the tour Buckingham gives the seventh graders every year. I pause for a second, thinking about what this room means to me . “You know, there’s evidence of my mom everywhere in this mansion. Her portrait in the gallery, books about her in the library. You can see the impact she’s had as headmistress in pretty much every room here.”

I start absentmindedly swinging the sword again. “But this room reminds me more of my dad. He died when I was little, on a mission.” I look up at Zoe and she nods at me to go on. “He always used to teach me about these, saying that one day there may be someone who needed saving and these are the tools I could use to help them.”

Zoe picks up a foil from the wall, testing the weight of it in her hands.

“The sword was always my dad’s favourite,” I continue. “He always used to say ‘Cammie, it is a sad, beautiful and tragic irony that the most elegant weapon is usually the most dangerous. And there is a no more graceful danger than the sword.’”

Zoe gives hers a test swish, marvelling at its movement. “Your father was a wise man,” she concludes. “I’m sorry you lost him.” I take a moment to feel that sadness that’s always kind of there when I think of him.

“When I’m here,” I say,  “I always feel a little closer to him. It’s comforting.”

Zoe takes a few steps closer, then surprises me by putting her arms around me. “Thanks for telling me about him,” she whispers, even though we’re alone.

“Here I was thinking you were about to challenge me to a duel,” I whisper back.

“Oh, what, for a hash brown?”

“Ha!” I laugh. “You were insufferable! ”

“Well you were being irrational.”

“Okay that’s it.” I whirl around at level my sword at her. “I, Cameron Ann Morgan, challenge thee Zoe Goode to a duel for honour and dignity! Do you accept?”

She pushes my sword back with hers until they’re locked together. She smiles. “Oh it is on , Gallagher Girl.”

With a cry, she takes the first swing but I parry it, forcing her to take the backhand on her next blow. She aims for my legs, but I step back into an en garde position, raising my non-sword hand and beckoning her back over.

“That all you got, Goode?”

“Oh, I’m just getting warmed up, Morgan.”

With a mischevious glint in her eye, she goes for a dummy blow to the left before shifting to the right at the last second, but I see it coming and catch it with a backhand defence, sending both of our swords swinging over my head, the metal grinding together before I throw her back.

“Not bad, Gallagher Girl, not bad.”

“You’ve got some catching up to do if you want a shot at beating me!”

We keep going, both of our attacks (and quips) getting more and more elaborate. We add jumps and spins, the sounds of clashing swords getting louder and faster with each hit, until I have Zoe against the wall, my sword pinning hers above her head.

“Guess I get to keep my honour after all,” I tease.

“How do you know?” she smirks, lowering her head towards mine.

“W-what?” I stammer, confused. Even when I’ve got her at my mercy, she’s still the one making me weak at the knees.

“How do you know,” she says slowly, her voice low, “That I don’t have you exactly where I want you?”

I lean in closer. She’s looking at me like she’s giving me a dare. Luckily for her, I always choose dare.

“I want to kiss you,” I whisper.

“So kiss me,” she whispers back.

I close the final distance between us and press my lips to hers. I hear our swords clatter to the ground as I reach up to put my hands in her hair, hers come around my waist as she pulls me closer and it’s everything. It’s movement and breath and her and-.

“CODE BLACK! CODE BLACK! CODE BLACK!”

The sirens ring out around us and Zoe’s eyes go wide.

“I have to go!” she yells urgently.

“What?” Where on earth does she have to be during a code black? We’re meant to return to our rooms ASAP.

“Cammie, I- I’m sorry.” I could swear that Zoe’s eyes fill with tears as she runs around the corner.

“Zoe!” I call. “Zoe, wait!” But my voice is lost to the sirens that continue to blare around me. I go to run after her, before remembering that there’s a secret passage out of here to avoid whatever danger could have breached the mansion. I crawl through it into the next room. When I emerge, I notice two things:

1. My mom, along with most of the faculty, are gathered around something
2. That something is the body of Tina Walters

Chapter Text

The next few days are a blur. The mansion goes into immediate lockdown, and everyone is constantly on edge. What little sleep we get is fraught with nightmares creeping in, a dark cloud at the edges of our minds. Everyone’s constantly asking if I’ve heard anything from my mom, but from what I can tell neither she nor any of the other staff has any clue what happened. Not that I’ve heard much. She’s blown off our dinners 3 times now and I’m not sure she’s sleeping at all.

Tina’s parents are called in and we have a ceremony for the school to say goodbye to her before she has a family funeral back home. Those of us that knew her stand up to give speeches, telling her parents about her life here and what she meant to each of us. While I’m giving mine I look on at the girls flanking each side of the Great Hall, some desperately trying to hold together the pieces of their shattered hearts, others mourning with a quiet rage at whoever took our sister.

After the ceremony, we’re back in lockdown. When we’re not in class, we’re being escorted down the corridors by teachers back to our dorms, which have had new locks, passwords and retina scanners installed. I don’t know which would be worse: what we have now, where I can’t even properly talk to Tina’s roommates to see if they’re ok, or all of us together without her, thinking about the newly empty space in the room.

Macey won’t stop crying. Bex slams every door she comes across. Liz has thrown herself into her work and barely talks. And underneath all the grief is a fear that grips each of us and refuses to let go.

Because if someone can break into the unbreakable Gallagher Academy under the noses of some of the best spies in the world and murder someone once, who’s to say one of us isn’t next?

***

A week after the ball, I’m staring up at the ceiling, not even bothering to try and sleep anymore. The other three have all drifted off, and I can hear that Macey’s nose piercing is whistling slightly, as well as a quiet tapping noise. The tapping stops and then comes back again, louder. I tiptoe out of bed and ease the door open. Standing there is Zoe in shorts and an oversized Blackthorne t-shirt, holding a pillow to her chest with no jacket in sight for once.

“Zoe, you can’t be here,” I whisper. She looks up at me and her eyes are red.

“Cammie, please.” Her voice is cracking and she holds the pillow tighter. “I’m scared.”

I step back to let her in and she silently walks inside. Then, she sits down on the edge of my bed and bursts into silent tears, her shoulders shaking and her breath coming out in shuddering gasps. I immediately sit next to her and scoop her into my arms. I don’t know what to say as she continues to sob into my shoulder, my hand stroking her hair.

“Shhh… Zoe. I’ve got you.” I’m pretty sure everyone else is awake by now, but they pretend they don’t hear as I guide Zoe to lie under the blankets. “I’ve got you. I’m going to fix this. I promise.”

I go to get her a glass of water but Zoe grabs my arm, gentler than I know she’s capable of.

“Wait.”

Her hand slides down into mine.

“Stay?”

Still holding her hand, I lie down next to her. I reach over with my other arm to hold her again. My bed is small, but it doesn’t matter because we don’t leave an inch of space between us.

We stay like that until morning.

Chapter Text

A week after that, Liz has had enough.

“Right!” she slams down her laptop on the desk loud enough to make Bex jump (quite the feat).

“Jeez, Lizzie! Where’s the fire?”

“Don’t worry, I put it out.”

“Wait, wha-.”

“I’ve had a breakthrough,” Liz ploughs on, ignoring the confused/concerned look that Bex often wears around her. “You remember the other week when I was talking about gene trails? Well, I was in the lab today, checking over my samples. The ones with the doxycycline, not without. Turns out those weren’t expressing the plasmid but I still seeded some anyway in case-.”

“Liz, the point?” Macey interjects.

“Right.” Liz tucks some hair behind her ear. “Check out this plasmid map I’ve made up. Notice anything?”

“Lizzie, darling, you can’t seriously expect us to answer.”

Liz ploughs on over Bex, probably too deep into explaining mode to even hear her. “When you compare it to my other cell lines, you can see that these five areas are pretty much unique across each of them! And even better, I’ve found that with the right fluorescents, I can create a unique light map based on plasmid type, or ULMPT, for any given sequence!”

Macey squints at the laptop. “You lost me at ULMPT. Which by the way, is an extremely clunky acronym.”

Liz flaps her hands (yes, actual flappage), frustrated at us mere mortals and our normal-speed brains that aren’t running on 5 bottles of coca-cola and a family pack of Haribo Starmix. “What I mean is, if we managed to get a sample of the killer’s DNA, I would be able to track the killer using a spray and a pair of goggles!”

“But how would we get the killer’s DNA?” I wonder out loud. I look at Bex and slowly I see an idea form in her eyes.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “We can’t.”

“We can’t what?” Macey says. Then: “Oh. That.”

We all look at Liz, who’s still scrolling through her sequencing results. “Lizzie?” asks Bex. Liz goes still, the calculator in her brain working out our next move. “It is the only viable source of data…” She turns in her chair. “So, I guess there’s only one thing for it.”

***

Every Gallagher Girl knows that you need to always have a plan B. And probably a plan C. And preferably a plan D, just in case. But every Gallagher girl also knows that there is a secret plan Z: the last resort for when all hope is lost. When the bad guys are circling and your hands are empty, there are no more tricks up your sleeve, no one coming to rescue you. As we enter the subs, I try to picture what Tina must’ve felt near the end, what must have been going through her mind. I find that I can’t even begin to imagine it. When we get to the secure vault where Tina’s being held, Liz disables the security measures and opens the door. We all tiptoe inside, torches shining around the room until they all centre on what lies in the centre.

“Oh, Tina,” Liz whispers. I see Bex take her hand and squeeze.

“If anyone wants to turn back,” Bex says. “I won’t judge.”

No one moves.

“You know, Tina tried to warn me.” I look down at my slippers. “That night. She knew something wasn’t right.” I haven’t talked about this to anyone yet. Not even my mom. “I thought it was part of the exam, but I-. If only I’d-.” I feel my friends’ arms come around me as hot tears begin to flow down my face.

“There’s no way you could’ve known,” says Bex.

“This isn’t your fault, Cam.” Macey soothes. “You didn’t do this to her.”

I take a step forward and wipe my face with my sleeve. “You’re right.” I take another step. “Let’s make this right.”

I still remember the CoveOps lesson when Joe Soloman told us about the last resort. It was at the beginning of our second semester with him.

“Now, you may feel indestructible at the moment. You may think that you can complete any mission you’re given, that you’ll never run out of time.” He paused then and looked right at me, sorrow in his eyes. “But every spy reaches the end of the line eventually.”

Then he shook his head and continued: “In that moment when you’ve run out of options, what’s the one thing you absolutely must do?”

As I reach for the lid on the coffin, I remember the note I wrote that day in my CoveOps notebook:

Plan Z: get their DNA under your fingernails.

Chapter Text

We barely see Liz for the next few days as she develops the equipment for our mission, with all of us helping to sneak her to and from the lab in the dead of night. Nothing, not even Gallagher Academy code black security, can get between Liz and her lab. She now has 3 notebooks and a playlist dedicated to the project; that’s how you know she’s into it.

All the while, I’m brush passing notes to Zoe, keeping her updated on the plan.
I can tell all this is weighing on her mind and hopefully, this is helping.

Finally, 5 days and several explosions later, she emerges one night with a bag containing what appears to be a can of hairspray and some sunglasses. Her grin is pure chaos as she says: “They’re ready.”

My note to Zoe the following day is simply one word: Tonight.

***

We sneak downstairs in our pyjamas (again). (All our pyjamas are starting to smell now). Liz is equipped with her sunglasses and ULPMT spray (which does actually double up as hairspray that doesn’t give you a coughing fit. Girls should design things more often).

“Now,” Liz says as she sprays more ULPMT spray into the hallway. “The spray highlights areas where the unique plasmids are present and they show up as fluorescent on the goggle vision.” She looks insane, but try telling her that. Bex is diligently taking notes, as this is also doubling up as a field test for the ULPMT. As my mother always says, with every caper comes paper(work). Liz doesn’t know that most of the notes are her and Macey trying to come up with a cooler name than ULPMT.

“Oooh! We have a trail, girls! Oops!” Liz trips over a flowerpot left outside one of Buckingham’s classrooms. “Write that I need to increase the exposure time on the goggles, Bex. Anything that isn’t ULPMT is murky.” Macey and I each take one of Liz’s arms as she guides us through the mansion, looking to see how the killer could have gotten in or out.

“This doesn’t make any sense!” exclaims Liz. “There’s nothing by any of the windows or external doors, just… around the mansion. Maybe it’s been too long, except I specifically chose plasmids that wouldn’t degrade…”

“Uh, Lizzie?” Bex has stopped writing abruptly. “What if the killer didn’t escape through the windows or doors?”

Liz slowly takes her glasses off, “What do you mean?”

“What if they never left?”

“Well, well well…” A slow clapping from behind us makes us jump. “Aren’t you a clever bunch? It’s a shame you weren’t fast enough to save Tina. And you won’t be fast enough to save yourselves now.”
We turn to look into the eyes of Tina’s death, the one who took our sister and shook the walls of the Gallagher Academy:

Dr Steve.

***

“I’m sure you’re wondering why poor little Ms Walters had to be disposed of.” Dr Steve has our wrists bound together around one of the pillars in the great hall and is subjecting us to a clearly rehearsed monologue while he circles it. “It’s a shame really, but every plan comes with collateral damage.”

“She was more than some cog in your stupid plan!” yells Macey. “She was our sister!”

That’s it, Macey, keep him talking. I think.

“Oh, but that’s all that she did amount to in the end. Such a shame. But it just goes to show that little girls need to learn when to keep their mouths shut.”

“How dare you! You-.” Liz shuts her mouth immediately as Dr Steve holds an open vial of clear liquid over her face, tipped just enough to not pour.

“I know how you love a pop quiz Ms Sutton, so here’s a question for you. Do you know what this is?”

“Hydrogen cyanide,” says Liz as her face pales. “sometimes called prussic acid. It’s a chemical compound with the formula HCN. Colourless, flammable and extremely poisonous.”

“Very good. And this killed one of your heroes, Alan Turning, is that correct?” Liz just nods. “So wouldn’t it be a terrible kind of twisted irony, if you were to meet the same fate?” Liz starts shaking. I squeeze her right hand, which is bound to my left.

“So keep your mouth. Shut.” Dr Steve brightens and smiles. “Okay?” He then continues pacing around us.

“Everything was going well. My plan was set in motion. No one had to get hurt.” His face darkens. “But then Ms Walters decided to start poking her nose where it didn’t belong. She happened to overhear me discussing a… private matter. And well, you all know what a gossip she was.”

I wish my hands were free so I could put them over my ears.

“So I decided to ensure that she didn’t give the game away. Madame Dabney was awfully grateful for my help in assigning roles for the ball. Tina felt she was surrounded by enemies that night, but couldn’t tell which were sincere. Feeling trapped, she ran away, thinking that she was escaping whatever harm was intended for her. But little did she know that she was running right into the real trap.”
He stops to stand right in front of me. “While you were telling fairytales about your father, Tina was taking her very last breath in the room right next door.”

“No,” I whisper.

“Then, of course, the code black went off. I thought I’d have time to at least stash the body but I just had to act like I was the one who’d discovered her there. I knew a lockdown would be imminent, but then again, I knew you wouldn’t be able to just sit around and wait for answers. You would try to catch the killer yourselves and I’d be ready to catch you first when I did. How clever of little Lizzie to lead you straight to me. You really are the brightest spy of your age.”

“Don’t you speak to her!” cries Bex through gritted teeth. “What do you even want from us?”

“I want Cameron Morgan. Or rather, The Circle wants her”

“What? Why? And who’s The Circle?” I ask. “Also…” There’s something that bothers me about his story. Something that doesn’t add up. “How did you know where Tina was going? And how did you know I was talking about my father that night?”

“For someone who’s supposed to be such a good spy, you’re really bad at spotting them, aren’t you?”

He leans forwards.

“Who hasn’t left your side since the semester began? Who stopped you from finding Tina the night of the ball? Who’s the one you told about sneaking out tonight?”

“No. No, she wouldn’t-.”

“That’s right Gallagher Girl, Zoe Goode had you exactly where she wanted you. Every step of the way.”

“LIZZIE, NOW!” yells Bex. Liz throws down the homemade smoke bomb in her pocket and Bex throws the rope from where she’s been slowly untying us.

We all run from the room through the smoke back to our dorm. I pretend that it’s the smoke that’s causing my eyes to water, that’s causing my breath to falter. I pretend that I’m concentrating too hard on escaping to think about what Dr Steve said. I pretend that I don’t care about the girl in the leather jacket as we come up with a plan to save our skins.

But in the moments of stillness between panic and strategy, I can’t help but think about trust and loyalty and how I don’t really know what those mean, not really.

Perhaps I never did.

Chapter Text

In the middle of all the maps and lists and shouting, I stand up.

“I need to talk to her.”

“Cam, no. I know you’re upset, but you need to be reasonable here.”

I whirl around. “Why should I be reasonable when she’s taken everything from me?” I suddenly need to sit down again, my breaths coming fast. “I told her stuff I’ve only told you guys before. I let her tear my walls down. And all this time she was using me. That sob story about her having no friends, her turning up at our door saying she’s scared, heck her kissing me while Tina gets murdered in the next room-.”

I feel the arms of my friends come around me.

“I let her in. Every time, I let her in. Was any of it real?”

“There’s no way of knowing, Cam,” says Macey. “Right now, we need to concentrate on finding Dr Steve so he doesn’t hurt anyone else, ok?”

“I need to find out.” I stand up. “If not, maybe she doesn’t know that I know about her yet. Maybe we could use her.” I laugh but not like anything’s funny.

Then I run out of the room and head for the East wing where the Blackthorne students are staying. I bang on the first door I see, not caring at this point if I’m caught. A voice in my head that sounds a lot like Joe Soloman is telling me that I’m being reckless but I ignore it. A yawning Grant answers the door.

“Where’s Zoe?” I ask before he can speak, my voice vicious.

“Two doors down.”

I keep running, then I fling the door of her room open. Empty.

I turn and search the Great Hall, the Ward of Weaponary, the classroom where she taught me to dance. Every room reeks of memories of her and I can’t stand it. I need to escape this mansion, which seems too small now.

I emerge from the passageway and tear across the lawn towards the barn. I grab the first punching bag I find and start hitting, not bothering with technique or maneuvres or finesse. Then I hear a small sound from the other end of the barn. I rush over to see Zoe underneath the window, beaten and bruised. She’s not moving.

“Zoe!” I grab her by the shoulders. “Zoe, wake up! Who did this to you?”

“Gallagher Girl,” she groans, then her eyes focus and widen. “You’ve got to get out of here.”

“Too late.”

I hear Dr Steve’s footsteps and the cocking of a gun.

“Why are you doing this to her?” He takes another step closer. I turn back to Zoe. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“There’s something we teach at Blackthorne that doesn’t seem to get covered here,” Dr Steve says menacingly. Then he holds up a very familiar-looking leather jacket, complete with a wire running across the inside. “And that’s how to follow orders.”

I feel my face pale.

“It seems that Ms Goode here wanted out of our little scheme. She tried to dispose of a waterproof, flameproof jacket that could survive even where she couldn’t.” He leans in to sneer at Zoe. “But you can’t get rid of it that easily.”

He steps back again and points the gun at us.

“And now, for you to join Ms Walters.”

“You can’t do this,” I say, my voice shaking as I spread my arms to shield Zoe.

“Why ever not?” he grins. “You think I’m scared of one little girl?”

“How about a whole sisterhood?” a voice yells from the ramparts. Then I assume I must be dead and dreaming because Elizabeth Sutton comes swinging on a rope (screaming the whole time) to kick the gun out of Dr Steve’s hands and tackle him to the ground.

“Only my girlfriend calls me Lizzie,” she smiles as dozens of Gallagher Girls (all in pyjamas) surround him, fists up for combat. Then Liz ruins what could’ve been the coolest moment of her life when a can of ULMPT spray falls out of her pocket, bursting on impact all over Zoe’s leather jacket and disintegrating it. Not so invincible now.

“Liz! That was-. Wait, girlfriend?” I say.

“Yeah we’re dating,” Bex says as she helps me to my feet. “Do try to keep up, Cameron.” Then she winks in her classic Bex way and walks over to stand over Dr Steve. “I think Headmistress Morgan would be very interested to hear about all this, don’t you?”

“Bold of you to assume that I don’t already know, Rebecca.”

Then my mother, dressing gown on, curlers in, enters the P&E barn with the grace of someone wearing a ballgown. (Ball. Sword. Murder.)

“You can go back to bed girls.” One of the seventh-graders looks really relieved that she doesn’t have to cover up her yawning anymore. “I’ll take it from here.”

***

The four of us are in the hospital wing, waiting for Zoe to wake up. She may have tried to burn the jacket, but she still has a lot of explaining to do. In the meantime, my roommates are catching me up on what happened after I ran off.

“We knew immediately that we had to follow you, but that we would also definitely need backup,” Bex is saying.

“Luckily,” Macey adds, “All that yelling woke up next door, who woke up practically our entire year.”

“We figured that would be enough to help you out, so we headed to the barn,” smiles Liz. “And, well, you saw the rest.” Bex kisses her on the cheek.

“You were amazing out there.”

“Wait a minute, how did you know where I was? I didn’t even know where I would find Zoe.”

Liz’s smile falters and she looks sheepish.

“Liz? What did you do?”

“Well, you know when we were comforting you earlier?”

“Yeeees?” I think I can see where this is going.

“I may or may not have put a tracker on you then. Just in case.”

I roll my eyes. “Liz, if you hadn't just saved my life, I would kill you. Come here.” We hug, and soon Bex and Macey are joining in. We laugh until I catch Liz trying to put on a replacement tracker, and then we laugh some more. All the commotion must wake Zoe because I hear a weak “Hey, Gallagher Girl,” from behind me.

“We’ll give you some space,” says Macey and all three of them leave the room, arm in arm. I turn to Zoe.

“Gallagher Girl, I’m so so sorry-.”

I hold up a hand. “My name is Cammie.” That shuts her up. I look into her eyes, trying to understand. “Just tell me one thing.” She nods earnestly and I find I have to speak around a lump in my throat.

“Was any of it real?”

She takes a moment, staring up at the ceiling fan above her. “At first, no. I was just following orders.” Her eyes drift over to meet mine.

“But then, I got to know you.” I look away. “I… I know I’m going to have to earn your trust back, after everything. I know you’re going to struggle to believe when I say that the things I told you about what I feel, about what I want, that was real.”

I look back at her again, and she continues: “I would love for you to give me a second chance, Cammie, I really would. But I understand if you don’t want to give me that chance.”

Slowly, so as not to startle her, I take her hand.

“I have no way of knowing if you’ll hurt me like that again,” I say. “I need time to heal, and to think.” About this, and what my mother just told me about the Circle of Cavan. “I don’t know what the future holds, but it would be so cool if you were in it. So eventually, after some space, I hope I can forgive you. I hope that one day I can give you another chance.”

I stand up and begin to walk away.

“Until we meet again, Cameron Morgan,” she says.

“So long, Zoe Goode.”

Chapter Text

Five years later

“Harness?”

“Check.”

“Gloves?”

“Check.”

“Lip balm?”

“Check.”

Zoe and I are standing on a rooftop in New York City, ready to bust in and bring down The Circle for good (or “for Goode” as Zoe keeps saying).

“Seems we’re ready to go,” she says, grabbing her harness and leaning back over the edge of the roof. I follow suit.

“First one in gets two hash browns?”

Zoe grins.

“You’re on, Gallagher Girl.”