Define Spy

Chapter Twenty Five

"What do you mean?" Johanna asks me, concerned.

"Danni, is an agent, like us."

"He's in the ICI? Yeah right." Cameron scoffs. I roll my eyes.

"He's not in the ICI. He's a recruit of the ROI. And he's on the same mission as us."

My team doesn't gasp or shout at me. They just sit there, solemn looks on their faces. Of course that's their reaction, though. They're agents, like me, like Danni. We learn to control our expressions. I'm just not sure if I'd rather prefer to get a reaction out of them or to see them stare back at me like zombies

"You sure he isn't lying?" Cameron raises an eyebrow. His eyes are frigid.

"How else would he know about the ROI? Where else could he learn his motives and tactics?" I point out.

"Serena, we can't be in contact with Danni." Parker says carefully.

"He's dangerous." Tallie says quietly.

I roll my eyes. "Danni isn't dangerous. He's the nicest person I've ever met!"

"That could be an act, Serena." Cameron tells me.

"Like yours?" I spit back, and the air feels tense.

I stare back at Cameron, my hands wrapped around the edge of my chair, trying not to shift in my seat. He stares back, his mouth straight with an expression that I can never read.

"Well that's all I wanted to share with you."
I'm the one to break our little stare down, and look to my team as a whole.

"What's our plan for the homecoming dance?" Parker changes the subject.

"We attend the dance." I shrug.

"Oh, Serena!" Tilly claps her hands together, a thought arising from her brain. "Johanna and I picked out your dress!"

My face goes pale at the words that came out of Tilly's mouth.

"Um, thanks." I manage to say, my arms pressed against the table.

"Serena, in a dress? What?" Parker jokes, and I glare at him.

"We're all wearing dresses, Parker." I roll my eyes.

My team moves to the living room as I walk back to my room. I can faintly hear Johanna and Parker's bickering from all the way up here and the sound of the TV as Tilly makes silly comments. I don't hear Cameron, though.

There's a knock at my door. I groan when I get up from my bed and open it. Cameron leans against the frame of my door. He holds the jar of acid water in one hand, but I don't question it.

"Can I help you?" I raise an eyebrow..

"Nope." he simply says. "Can I come in though?"

"Fine." I say stiffly, and sit on my computer chair, crossing my arms. Cameron takes a seat on my bed. There's a cup of tea on my desk. It's probably cold now, but I take a drink anyway.

"Tea? Are you British?" Cameron asks me, and I look at him.

"Are you stereotypical?" I roll my eyes, "But yes, I was born there."

I look down when I drink the tea. Some of the herbs and ingredients have escaped the tea bag and floated down to the bottom of my cup. Every time I tilt the cup, the herbs remove from the bottom.

"You know, I've wondered why that guy always wears a mask. Is he some identity theft?" I say, my eyes still on my tea.

Cameron chuckles. It's been quite a while since I've heard Cameron laugh, let alone have a conversation with him. I wasn't sure if this was considered one.

"Maybe. I guess he doesn't want us to find out who he is." Cameron answers.

"So Danni, huh?"

I look up from my cup. Cameron's eyes are trained on me. I've never decided on what color his eyes were. They were peculiar; the color of honey with flickers of yellow and green specks in the center. Hazel, maybe?

"If what you're saying is that I like Danni in that way, then you're wrong." I shake my head. Cameron shrugs.

"So does Ms. Ariana Castel have a date to the dance?" he jokes, and I roll my eyes.

"No. And I don't want one." I confirm. "How about you? Mr. Tristan Rhynes, the most popular guy of Summington?" there's a pitch to my voice of sarcasm.

"I do not either." he replies sincerely.

I look back down to my tea, the hot water almost gone. I stir the tea by turning the cup, watching as the herbs stick to the bottom, but once I tilt it, they remove.

"This jar of water," he finally addresses the jar in his hand, "ICI scientists couldn't recognize the substance."

"Did they find out who had the jar?" I ask, still stirring the tea.

"No." Cameron shakes his head. "They found fingerprints on the bottom of the jar, but they couldn't detect the person from it because to do that, you would have to remove all the acid water. And that wasn't considered a good idea."

"Unless," I sit up in my chair, "unless they didn't take out all of the water."

Cameron gives me a questioning look and I take the jar away from him. I unscrew the lid and pour the acid water into the tea cup; acid can't burn china.

"What are you doing?" Cameron asks me, but I don't answer. I pour out all the acid water until there's a centimeter of it left. I tilt the remaining water, and just like the herbs, a faded fingerprint mark appears. I look up to Cameron, his eyebrows raised to the top of his hairline.

"There's the mark." I say. "Hand me a strip of paper."

Cameron grabs one from my desk and hands it to me. I carefully keep the acid water on one side while dabbing the paper onto the fingerprint, and when I remove it, the same exact print appears.

"Yes." I say in achievement.

"We'll take that to ICI tomorrow." Cameron tells me.

"No, Mr. Collins has a DNA generator in the basement." I tell him. He nods, and we travel down the stairs.

I get the rest of my team and we all go down to the basement, the paper flattened onto the surface glass of the generator. I nod to Parker and he presses a button on the keyboard, and there's a scanning sound as the glass barely vibrates. It takes a few seconds for the screen to light up with the information.

Once it does, we all lean towards the screen. I have to blink twice to make sure I'm not reading it wrong.

Stan Richard Thompson is the name imprinted on the screen, along with the records and medical information and also an ID picture.

"Mr. Thompson?" I say, my lips partly opened.

Mr. Thompson was the guy in black, the one who I could tell was wearing glasses when we broke into Summington. All the notes that I received, the ink smudged and dull. Then I think of Mr. Thompson's pen that he always uses, the ancient one with the bird feather.

I look up to Mr. Thompson's picture, his face now giving me chills.

***

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~summer