Home > I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You (Gallagher Girls #1)(8)

I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You (Gallagher Girls #1)(8)
Author: Ally Carter

Bex opened the front doors and welcomed them inside, but all I could do was watch them go and think, Senator, you have no idea.

Bex and I got to sit in Mom's office as she went through her standard speech about the school's "history." Really, it's not all that different from the truth, just abridged. A lot.

"We have graduates working all over the world," Mom said, and I thought, Yeah, as spies. "We focus on languages, math, science, and culture. Those are the things our graduates tell us they've needed most in their lives." As spies. "By admitting only young women, our students develop a sense of empowerment, which enables them to be highly successful." As spies.

I was just starting to enjoy my little game, when Mom turned to Bex and said, "Rebecca, why don't you and Cammie show Macey around?" and I knew it was showtime.

Bex glowed, but all I could do was think about how we'd only had one half of a covert operations course, yet we were already going on a mission! How was I supposed to know how to act? Sure, if Macey wanted to conjugate Chinese verbs or break KGB codes, I was perfectly trained, but our mission was to act normally, and that's something I'm totally not qualified to do! Luckily, Bex just likes to act. Period.

"Senator," Bex said, gripping his hand, "it was an honor meeting you, sir. And you, too, ma'am." She smiled at Mrs. McHenry. "So glad that you both—"

"Thank you, Rebecca," Mom cut Bex off with her don't-overdo-it voice.

Macey stood and, with a flurry of her ultra-miniskirt, was through the door and into the Hall of History without even a glance at her parents.

Macey was leaning against a cabinet that normally chronicled the history of the gas mask (a device on which the Gallagher Academy holds the patent, thank you very much), lighting up a cigarette, when we caught up. She took a long confident drag and then blew smoke toward a ceiling that probably held a dozen different kinds of sensors, the least of which was for smoke.

"You've got to put that out," Bex said, entering the make-sure-she-knows-she'd-be-miserable-here phase of the operation. "At the Gallagher Academy, we value personal health and safety."

Macey looked at Bex as if she'd been speaking Chinese. I had to think for a moment to make sure she hadn't.

"No smoking," I translated as I pulled an empty aluminum can from a recycling bin at the top of the stairs and held it toward her.

She took another drag and then looked at me as if to say she'd stub out her cigarette when I forced her, which I could, of course, but she wasn't supposed to know that. "Fine," I said, and turned to stalk off. "Your lungs."

But Bex was glaring at her and, unlike me, she actually looked capable of throwing someone off the landing; so with one last drag, our guest dropped the cigarette into the empty Diet Coke can and followed me down the stairs as a wave of girls pushed past us.

"It's lunchtime," I explained, realizing that the green M&M had gotten together with the Tic Tac in my stomach and were trying to convince me that they would like some company. "We can go eat if you want—"

"I don't think so!" Macey cried with a roll of her eyes.

But stupid me jumped to say, "Really, the food here is great," which totally didn't serve our mission objective, since gross food is usually a pretty good turnoff. But our chef is amazing. He actually worked at the White House before this incident involving Fluffy (the First Poodle), a gastronomical chemical agent, and some very questionable cheese. Luckily, a Gallagher Girl saved poor Fluffy's life, so to show his appreciation, Chef Louis came to us and brought his awesome crème brûlée with him.

I started to mention the crème brûlée, but then Macey exclaimed, "I eat eight hundred calories a day."

Bex and I looked at each other, amazed. We probably burned that many calories during one session of P&E (Protection and Enforcement) class.

Macey studied us skeptically, then added, "Food is so yesterday."

Unfortunately, that was the last time I'd had some.

We reached the foyer, and I said, "This is the Grand Hall," because that sounded like a school tour-y thing to say, but Macey acted like I wasn't even there as she turned to Bex (her physical equal) and said, "So everyone wears those uniforms?"

I found this to be particularly offensive, having been on the uniform selection committee, but Bex just fingered her knee-length navy plaid skirt and matching white blouse and said, "We even wear them during gym class." Good one, I thought, taking in the horror on Macey's face as Bex stepped toward the east corridor and said, "Here we have the library—"

But Macey was heading down another hallway. "What's down here?" And just like that she was gone, passing classrooms and hidden passageways with every step. Bex and I jogged to keep up with her, throwing out pieces of made-up trivia like "That painting was a gift from the Duke of Edinburgh" or "Oh, yes, the Wizenhouse Memorial Chandelier," or my personal favorite, "This is the Washington Memorial Chalkboard." (It really is a nice chalkboard.)

Bex was in the middle of a pretty believable story about how, if a girl gets a perfect score on a test, she's allowed to watch one whole hour of television that week, when Macey plopped down in one of my favorite window seats, pulled out a cell phone, and proceeded to make a call right in front of us without so much as an excuse me. (Rude!) The joke was on her, though, since, after dialing in the number, she held the device out in front of her in bewilderment.

Bex and I glanced at each other, and then I tried to sound all sympathetic as I said, "Yeah, cell phones don't work here." TRUE.

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