Chapter Twenty-Four
“Headmaster Solomon,” called a boy dressed in a navy gown. The strings of his tassel swished and bounced as he ran to catch up with us. “Sir!”
Grandpa Joe turned to look over his shoulder. Even though I didn’t recognize the boy, it was clear that Grandpa Joe definitely did. “Mr. Evans,” he greeted. “Congratulations on your big day. Your mother must be very proud.”
The boy beamed and I looked up at my grandfather, thinking that, of all the cool things that he could do with his spy training (like jump off of rooftops, for example), he chose to memorize the lives of his students. “She is, sir. Thank you. For everything.”
Grandpa Joe stuck out a hand and the boy shook it. “I hope that we’ve done you well. Any plans for the summer?”
“Actually, sir, I was hoping you might be able to help with that,” said the boy, sheepishly. “You see, I’ve applied to Tobacco and Firearms and I’ve gotten to the second round of hiring.”
Grandpa Joe smiled, genuinely happy for the boy. “That’s a perfect fit for you.”
The boy nodded. “Thank you, sir. But the problem is that I need three letters of recommendation, and I figure you’d have some pull in this part of the world so I was—“
But before the boy could finish, Grandpa Joe held up his hand to stop him. “That pull, Mr. Evans, is exactly why I do not write letters of recommendation for any of my students. I wish you all the luck, but I’m afraid you’ll have to find recommendations elsewhere. A gentleman like yourself shouldn’t have that hard a time finding someone.”
The boy didn’t look surprised, but he certainly didn’t look happy about it either. “Yes sir,” he droned. “Figured it was worth the shot.”
Grandpa Joe nodded, but then pulled the boy in closer. If it weren’t for my freakish ability to hear absolutely everything, I probably wouldn’t have heard Grandpa Joe say, “If you're looking for someone with pull in the firearms department, I hear Professor Nelson is the guy to talk to.”
When the boy pulled away, he was smiling bright again, excited for whatever it was that laid beyond that cap and gown he wore. “Thank you, sir.” And then he ran off, fading away into the sea of navy and sharing excited looks with his classmates.
We were back in the Blackthorne ballroom, this time decorated far less formally (although, it’s fair to say that the Blackthorne ballroom is never casual). Plain white garden chairs had been unfolded and set up into rows, all facing the main stage in a true, crisp, military fashion. Along the balcony, there were even more chairs, waiting for the families of the graduates to settle in before the big ceremony.
Grandpa Joe and I walked up to the top of the grand staircase, his arm draped over my shoulder in true grandfatherly form. Dad and Aunt Bex were just behind us, thumb wrestling with such intensity that I feared for the safety of anyone within a ten-foot radius of them. When we reached the top, we were greeted by the sight of parents from all over the world—some of them knowing just how much their sons had learned at The Blackthorne Military Academy and some of them completely unaware. I tried to guess which parents knew. I tried to pin each person surrounding me as NSA or accountant. FBI or stay-at-home mom. After a while I realized that I couldn’t tell the difference. After a while I remembered that anyone could be a spy.
“Dad!” I heard from behind me. Suddenly the thumb wrestling stopped and Dad turned around (along with about four other people who presumably also went by ‘Dad’ in their own homes). Matt was weaving his way towards us, sliding in between ecstatic parents and smiling graduates. Dad just about melted when he saw him. “Dad.”
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Barking Up the Wrong Lead - A Gallagher Girls Story
FanfictionBOOK 2 - After the disappearance of her mother, Morgan Goode is forced to investigate what it means to be a family—a feat made slightly more difficult by the fact that her family is made up almost entirely of the world's best and brightest spies.
