Barking Up the Wrong Lead - A Gallagher Girls Story

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twewnty-Two

I’m good at being a spy.  Honestly.  I know that sounds like bragging and everything, but is it really bragging if it’s true?  I mean, I don’t know if I have a natural talent or if it’s hereditary or whatever, but I’ve got a real knack for the spy life.  I think it might be because it’s all I know.  I know how to be a spy and I’ve never known anything else.  I’ve never wanted to know anything else.  I’ve never envied the idea of Friday night football games.  I’ve never wished for a big backyard with a white fence around the edge.  The fact is, I’m on the side with the greener grass and I absolutely love it.

And even when I’m studying for finals or running an op in CoveOps, I can’t stop thinking about what’s going to happen when I’m done.  I can’t stop seeing the world as what I know it’s going to be—endless.  The whole world is going to be mine.

It was moments like these that kept me going.  Moments of me walking down the Gallagher Academy halls, feeling the bruises across my chest and the puzzles in my brain.  It’s moments like these that make me feel infinite.  Sometimes even invincible. 

But, like Grandpa Joe had warned me, you’re at your most vulnerable when you feel invincible. 

When I wandered in through the open office door, I saw Grandma first.  She was sitting at her desk, her head in her hands.  She was shaking.  Maybe she had been crying.  Instantly, I felt my invincibility vanish.

Grandpa Joe was there, too, sitting up against the wall with his head back against the brick, looking like he might throw up.  It was as if the angel of death that he had so bravely fought off earlier in his life would now be a welcome gift. 

Dad looked the worst, I think.  Any progress he had made in the past few months had been stolen from him, once again leaving him pale and far too thin.  That wasn’t the worst part though.  The worst part was the way that he leaned up against that wall, as if he knew he couldn’t trust his legs for support, but didn’t much care if he fell.  He stared off at a patch of carpet, not fidgeting, not moving—maybe not even breathing—and when I looked to his eyes, I saw that the usually spark of worry that could be found within them was now replaced by the cool dullness of defeat.

Matt was sitting on Grandma’s couch looking just as confused as I felt.  For a second, I wondered what he was doing here, but then I saw Aunt Bex and I realized that Matt’s presence was the very least of my worries. 

“Woods said you wanted to see me,” I told whoever wanted to listen.

They all sparked up as if just realizing that I had arrived.  It was Dad, I think, who scared me the most, wiping water from his face and clearing his throat.  What was a girl supposed to do when her father was crying?  “Maggie.”

I felt myself falling into the seat beside my brother.  Matt looked at me like he didn’t know what was going on, but he knew it wasn’t good.  I fumbled with the pendant that hung over my chest, waiting for someone to start talking.

Aunt Bex was the one to start.  “Kids,” she told us.  Matt sat up a little straighter as if reminding her that he was almost graduated, thank you very much.  The term “kid” no longer applied to him.  But to Aunt Bex and to all those people in that room, we would always be the kids.  “There’s no easy way to say this.  Your mother’s case has been closed.”

Matt didn’t feel much like sitting up after that.  I couldn’t blame him. 

I thought back to the time when I had sat in Grandpa Joe’s office at Blackthorne.  Aunt Abby and Townsend had sat right in front of me as they told me that Mom’s case had been dropped, but really it had just been transferred.  Sent across seas.  Surely this was no different.  “Did they give it back to the CIA?”  I asked.