Dropping Like Spies - A Gallagher Girls Story

Chapter Twenty-Five

I had almost forgotten how Sublevel One looked.  I’d almost forgotten how smooth and clean and straight-forward everything was.  How it felt like your secrets were exposed with the first step into the room.  That night, I wanted to be in class—wanted to return to Sublevel One and sit at one of those slim silver tables and have Charlotte Woods tell me what to do.

I could hear him crying.  It was quiet—nearly undetectable—but there are only a few sounds that don’t show up on my radar and, evidently, the shaky sobs of heartbroken boys don’t make the list.

Will was stuffed up in a little closet, just big enough for another one of those tables and a few chairs.  He must have heard me coming, because his tears were gone, leaving behind nothing more than the redness in his eyes.  “Heya, Cap.”

Something tore in my chest and I knew that he felt it too.  That was what they both called me.  Both of them.  “Hey, Will.”

His words were dry as he spoke and I knew that he was exhausted.  That was what happened to the people who were left behind—they became exhausted.  After spending so much time worrying or crying or trying to solve the unsolvable, there’s just not enough energy to go around.  Something’s got to give and I knew from experience that sanity was the first to go.  “S’pose you’ve heard by now,” he said, swiping the back of his hand across his nose. 

Watching him, I finally understood why everyone had been looking at me for the past year like I was a bomb.  That’s what he looked like, sitting there.  Not a boy—a bomb.  A countdown just waiting to explode. 

I was careful as I approached him, not wanting to set anything off.  When I finally took a seat, I was met by his sparkling eyes.  He almost looked amused just then, his contagious smile hiding somewhere along his lips, but I knew better.  An agent’s best weapon is their cover and that afternoon, Will was taking as much cover as he could.

“How are you?” I asked.  It was a stupid question, but it was all I could say.

“Sad.”

Sad.  Yeah.  Understatement of the century.

There was silence again.  Neither of us knew how to fill it or maybe neither of us wanted to.  Maybe it was just enough to sit there with each other and wonder.  To sit beside someone who was asking the same questions.  I tried to get a read on him. I wanted to know just how bad he was feeling, but then I remembered that I didn’t.  I didn’t want to know that kind of pain.  I didn’t even want to know that kind of pain could exist in reality.

But as I watched him, I couldn’t help feeling that I was the one being watched.  That I was on the wrong end of the questions.  That Will knew something I didn’t.  “They interviewed me today,” he said, snapping his eyes away from me.  “Told me they’ve got agents working on the case.”

“That’s good,” I said, but he just waved his hand at me, casting my words aside.  “Is that… not good?”

This time, Will actually laughed, but it wasn’t out of amusement.  It was out of self-preservation.  If he didn’t laugh, he would cry.  If he didn’t laugh, he might just drop dead right there.  One thing was for sure—William Kidd was a mess.  “How many agents did they have on your mom?”

Everyone.  Everyone had been on Mom’s case.  Everyone had scoured the globe for Cameron Goode, but the truth that remained was that if Cameron Goode didn’t want to be found, there wasn’t a camera or an operative on this planet that could find her.  Not until she wanted to be seen.  Not until she flew her plane over London.  “That’s different,” I insisted.  “My mom was on a mission.  She has enemies—she has a whole list of people who want to kill her.  This is different.  None of that has nothing to do with Bill.”