[Gallagher Girls 4] Only the Good Spy Young by Ally Carter

Author:Ally Carter [Carter, Ally]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Interpersonal Relations, True Crime, Family & Relationships, Espionage
ISBN: 9780734411839
Google: aHv0RLWt8XMC
Amazon: 1423128206
Publisher: Hyperion Book CH
Published: 2010-06-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

Spies need covert operations. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. Because even though our brains are . . . you know . . . brain-sized, every undercover operative knows that a mind is totally big enough to get lost inside - to go crazy if you're left with too much time and too much room to let your biggest ears run free.

So, yeah. Spies need covert operatives. And as I sat next to Bex in the Gallagher Academy van that was carrying us through the tall, metal gates that had stood between me and the world outside, I had to ask, "Do you hear that?"

"What?" she asked. "A little voice telling you you'd be better off staying where you bloody well were?"

"Nope." I smiled. "Freedom."

She looked at me like I might have been crazier than usual, but I didn't care.

I was riding in a van! (And in a n actual seat this time, which, let me tell you, you really don't miss till it's gone.)

I was outside of school!

I was going on a mission!

I was going to . . .

Then I glanced out the window and realized I didn't have a clue where we were going.

And that made it better.

For two hours we rode in silence; the only sound was the hum of the van and the occasional snore (yes, actual snoreage) as Townsend slumped in the front seat, sleeping.

As the road stretched out before us and the trip got longer and longer, I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only Gallagher Girl in that van to feel acutely aware of three important facts 1) We were missing lunch. 2) It's kinda hard to look like a super-tough, super-skilled superagent when your stomach's growling. And 3) We hadn't had a real Covert Operations lesson in months.

I stretched my arms out in front of me and thought I felt a creak. Rusty didn't even begin to cover it.

And then the van made a hard right turn, and Townsend bolted upright.

"Good," he said, without a glance out the window. "We're here."

In case I haven't mentioned it before, I go to a boarding school. With gates. And walls.

Plaid skirts and strict teachers. So while my classmates and I might be used to spending all of our time in a place that is exciting and semi-dangerous and full of incredibly delicious food, I couldn't remember a single time when I'd been in a place like this.

"Oh my gosh," Tina Walter said, summing up the reaction of probably every single girl in the van at that particular moment. "Is that . . ."

But before she could finish, Agent Townsend threw open the doors and Tin's words got lost in the deafening roar of a roller coaster barreling along its tracks and people screaming at the top of their lungs as the ride quickly plunged, then rose again.

Somehow, sitting in the back of the van, I sort of knew exactly how they felt.

"All right," our teacher said ten minutes later in the manner of a man who just wanted to get it over with and go back to sleep, "everybody gets a target.

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