Here is chapter 1! Excited? I am! 2918 of these words aren't mine in this chapter. The other 1308, are... I actually counted. Lol. Jk. I just did the math.

This is killing my book. I seriously wish I had the hardcover right now...

Anyway, so I here's the disclaimer. I forgot it last time! My bad.

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.

It was Rachel Morgan, their headmistress, but more importantly, Cammie's mother.

"How did you get in here?" Bex asked, clutching the pink book like a lifeline, which, in a way, it was.

"I have my ways," she replied.

"So you want to read?" Liz asked timidly.

"I'm fine. I just thought you girls might want to start at the beginning." She carried with her, three more books. "I suggest you start with the blue notebook. It's from your little adventure with Josh," she winked, but there was still sorrow in her eyes, and then left after placing them on the floor.

"So, ummm. Who wants to read?" Liz asked after a good few minutes.

"I guess I will," Bex replied. She took the blue book as suggested and began to read.

I suppose a lot of teenage girls feel invisible sometimes, like they just disappear. Well, that's me—Cammie the Chameleon.

But I'm luckier than most because, at my school, that's considered cool.
I go to a school for spies.

"Duh. Of course we know that," Macey said, reading a magazine. Although it didn't seem like it, she was listening intently. These were the words of her friend, after all.

Of course, technically, the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women is a school for geniuses—not spies—and we're free to pursue any career that befits our exceptional educations.

"No one ever pays attention to that," Bex stated. "It's like teaching us how to cook food, and then telling us we can't eat it!"

"Do you ever think of anything besides food?" Macey asked.

"Yes," Bex replied, slightly offended. It wasn't like she was fat…

But when a school tells you that and then teaches you things like advanced encryption and fourteen different languages, it's kind of like big tobacco telling kids not to smoke, so all of us Gallagher Girls know lip service when we hear it.

"Even I know it!" Liz exclaimed.

Even my mom rolls her eyes but doesn't correct me when I call it spy school, and she's the headmistress. Of course, she's also a retired CIA operative, and it was her idea for me to write this, my first Covert Operations Report, to summarize what happened last semester. She's always telling us that the worst part of the spy life isn't the danger—it's the paperwork.

When you're on a plane home from Istanbul with a nuclear warhead in a hatbox, the last thing you want to do is write a report about it. So that's why I'm writing this—for the practice.

"Well, she's got a point. I mean, who would want to write?" Macey questioned.

"Writers?" Liz replied.

"It was a rhetorical question, Liz," Bex explained with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh…" Liz flushed red and ducked her head.

If you've got a Level Four clearance or higher, you probably know all about us Gallagher Girls since we've been around for more than a hundred years (the school, not me—I'll turn sixteen next month!)

"I think that was kind of obvious," Macey observed.

"Yeah, but it's Cammie. We wouldn't want anything else," Bex replied.

But if you don't have that kind of clearance, then you probably think we're just an urban spy myth—like jet packs and invisibility suits—and you drive by our ivy-covered walls, look at our gorgeous mansion and manicured grounds, and assume, like everyone else, that the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women is just a snooty boarding school for bored heiresses with no place else to go.

"That was the case for Macey!" Bex said. Macey glared at her, but made no commentary.

"But she's catching up so quick! It's nearly impossible, but she did it!" Liz exclaimed with a hint of pride in her voice, and gave Macey a smile, which she in turn, mirrored.

Well, to tell you the truth, we're totally fine with that—it's one of the reasons no one in the town of Roseville, Virginia thought twice about the long line of limousines that brought my classmates back to campus last September.

"Remember when you came out of the limo, Macey?"

"Yeah. My mom tried to convince me to go because there were horses here." She rolled her eyes. "We know how well that plan turned out," Macey finished.

I watched from a window seat on the third floor of the mansion as the cars materialized out of the blankets of green foliage and turned through the towering wrought-iron gates.

"Such description!" Bex observed dramatically.

The half-mile long driveway curved through the hills, looking as harmless as Dorothy's yellow brick road, not giving a clue that it's equipped with laser beams that read tire treads and sensors that check for explosives, and one entire section that can open up and swallow a truck whole. (If you think that's dangerous, don't even get me started about the pond!)

"Yeah. The pond. We almost drowned from it," Liz said with a frown.

"At least we got Cammie's dad's journal," Bex replied with a shrug.

I wrapped my arms around my knees and stared through the window's wavy glass. The red velvet curtains were drawn around the tiny alcove, and I was enveloped by an odd sense of peace, knowing that in twenty minutes, the halls were going to be crowded; music was going to be blaring; and I was going to go from being an only child to one of a hundred sisters, so I knew to savor the silence while it lasted.

Then, as if to prove my point, a loud blast and the smell of burning hair came floating up the main stairs from the second-floor Hall of History,

"Don't you just love the beginning of school?" Bex asked, but to no one in particular.

"Hey! That happened to me!" Liz cried.

"Your fault. You shouldn't have touched it," Bex shrugged.

"Well sorry. It was for the name of science! The workmanship was incredible! Besides, how was I supposed to know?"

"You could have just not touched it?" Bex suggested.

"Can we just continue?" Macey asked.

"Fine," Bex complied.

Followed Professor Buckingham's distinguished voice crying, "Girls! I told you not to touch that!" The smell got worse, and one of the seventh-graders was probably still on fire, because Professor Buckingham yelled, "Stand still. Stand still, I say!"

The three girls burst out laughing. When Bex had gotten sober, she continued.

Then Professor Buckingham said some French swear words that the seventh-graders probably wouldn't understand for three semesters, and I remembered how every year during new student orientation one of the newbies will get cocky and try to show off by grabbing the sword Gillian Gallagher had used to slay the guy who was going to kill Abraham Lincoln—the first guy, that is, the one you never hear about.

"That sounds like something you would do, Bex. Not Liz," Macey observed.

"True," Bex agreed.

But what the newbies aren't told on their campus tour is that Gilly's sword is charged with enough electricity to...well...light your hair on fire.

Liz involuntarily reached for her hair.

I just love the start of school.

"Don't we all?" Bex asked with a slight chuckle, while Macey gave an amused glance at Liz.

I think our room used to be an attic, once upon a time.

Liz interrupted, still holding her hair, "I believe it was. Based on the design, it would be logical." She gave a calculated look as she took in her surroundings.

It has these cool dormers and oddly shaped windows and lots of little nooks and crannies, where a girl can sit with her back against the wall and listen to the thundering feet and squeals of hello that are probably pretty standard at boarding schools everywhere on the first day after summer break (but they probably stop being standard when they take place in Portuguese and Farsi).

"Ughh. I hate squealing girls," Macey complained. "They're so annoying."

Out in the hall, Kim Lee was talking about her summer n Singapore; and Tina Walters was declaring "Cairo was super cool. Johannesburg-not so much,"

"I've seen better," Macey shrugged.

"That's what you say about everything!" Bex exclaimed,

"Because it's true."

which is exactly what my mom had said when I'd complained about how Tina's parents were taking her to Africa over the summer whereas I was going to have to visit my dad's parents on their ranch in Nebraska-an experience I'm fairly sure will never help me break out of an enemy interrogation facility or disarm a dirty bomb.

"You never know," Bex shrugged. "It's possible."

"Hey, where's Cammie?" Tina asked, but I wasn't about to leave my room until I could come up with a fish story to match the international exploits of my classmates, seventy percent of whom are the daughters of current or former government operatives-aka spies. Even Courtney Bauer had spent a week in Paris, and her parents are both optometrists, so you can see why I wasn't especially eager to admit that I'd spent three months plopped down right in the middle of North America, cleaning fish.

"Poor Fish," Liz sympathized.

"What about Cammie? She had to gut them!" Bez exclaimed. (A/N I actually had to do this. The only way it got out was with a bunch of sawdust my dad made while he was renovating my house. I had to help him cuz it was for my room)

I'd finally decided to tell them about the time I was experimenting with average household items that can be used as weapons and accidently decapitated a scarecrow (who knew knitting needled could do that kind of damage?), when I heard the distinctive thud of luggage crashing into a wall ad a soft, Southern, "Oh, Cammie…come out, come out, wherever you are."

"Were you playing hide and seek, Liz?" Macey asked with amusement clear in her voice.

Liz blushed and gestured for Bex to continue.

I peered around the corner and saw Liz posing in the doorway, trying to look like Miss Alabama, but bearing a greater resemblance to a toothpick in capri pants and flip-flops. A very red toothpick.

"Hey! I don't look like a toothpick!" Liz complained.

"Uhhh. Right," Macey said.

She smiled and said, "Did you miss me?"

Well, I did miss her, but I was totally afraid to hug her.

"I'm not that weak. Am I?" Liz asked.

"Afraid so Liz," Bex said.

"What happened to you?"

Liz rolled her eyes and just said, "Don't fall asleep by a pool in Alabama," as if she should have known better-which she totally should have. I mean, we're all technically geniuses and everything, but at age nine, Liz had the highest score on the third-grade achievement tests ever. The government keeps track of that kind of thing, so the summer before seventh grade, her parents got a visit from some big guys in dark suits and three months later, Liz was a Gallagher Girl-just not the kill-a-man-with-her-bare-hands variety.

"My parents were so freaked out! They should really be more inconspicuous," Liz said. "I mean, really? Big guys in black suits. That's just scary when you have no idea who they are."

"True, but very entertaining when you're not on the receiving line," Bex said with a hint of laughter.

If I'm ever on a mission, I want Bex beside me and Liz far, far away, with about a dozen computers and a chessboard-a fact I couldn't help but remember when Liz tried to fling her over a bookcase, demolishing my stereo and flattening a perfectly-scaled replica of DNA that I'd made out of papier-mâché in eighth grade.

"I'm really sorry about that," Liz looked miserable.

"Oopsy daisy," Liz said, throwing her hand to her mouth.

"Typical Liz," Bex said while looking at Liz with a slight smile.

Sure, she knows cuss words in fourteen different languages, but when faced with a minor catastrophe, Liz says oopsy daisy. At that point I didn't care how sunburned she was-I had to hug my friend.

At six thirty exactly, we were in our uniforms, sliding our hands over the smooth mahogany banisters, and descending down the staircases that spiral gracefully to the foyer floor. Everyone was laughing (turns out my knitting needle story was a big hit), but Liz and I kept looking toward the door in the center of the atrium below.

"We were really worried, you know," Liz said, looking at Bex.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Bex answered with mischievousness in her voice and eyes.

"Maybe there was trouble with the plane?" Liz whispered. "Or customs? Or…I'm sure she's just late."I nodded and continued glancing down at the foyer as if, on cue, Bex was going to burst through the doors. But they stayed closed, and Liz's voice got squeakier as she asked, "Did you hear from her? I didn't hear from her. Why didn't we hear from her?"

"I thought Bex was the drama queen here," Macey said while glancing at them both.

Well, I would have been surprised if we had heard from her, to tell you the truth. As soon as Bex had told us that both her mom and her dad were taking a leave of absence to spend the summer with her, I knew she wasn't going to be much of a pen pal.

"She knows me so well," Bex said.

Leave it to Liz to come to a completely different conclusion.

"Oh my gosh, what if she dropped out?" Liz cranked up the worry in her voice. "Did she get kicked out?"

"Why would you think that?" Bex demanded.

"Uhhh… Keep reading," Liz said nervously.

"Why would you think that?"

"Well…"she said, stumbling over the obvious, "Bex always has been kind of rules-optional." Liz shrugged, and sadly, I couldn't disagree. "And why else would she be late? Gallagher Girls are never late! Cammie, you know something, don't you? You've got to know something!"

"Why would you think that, Liz?" Macey asked. "Just because she's the headmistress's daughter doesn't mean anything."

Liz was too flustered to answer.

Times like this are when it's no fun being the headmistress's daughter, because A) it's totally annoying when people think I'm in a loop I'm not in, and B) people always assume I'm I partnership with the staff, which really I'm not. Sure, I have private dinners with my mom on Sunday nights, and sometimes she leaves me alone in her office for five seconds, but that's it. Whenever school is in session, I'm just another Gallagher Girl (except for being the girl to whom the aforementioned A and B apply).

"That is so true," Macey agreed.

I looked back down at the front doors, then turned to Liz. "I bet she's just late," I said, praying that there would be a pop quiz over supper (nothing distracts Liz faster than a pop quiz).

"Can you blame me?" Liz asked. "I don't want to fail!" Bex and Macey rolled their eyes. She was worried about nothing.

As we approached the massive, open doors of the Grand Hall, where Gilly Gallagher supposedly poisoned a man at her own cotillion, I involuntarily glanced up at the electronic screen that read "English-American" even though I knew we always talk in our own language and accents for the welcome-back dinner. Our mealtime conversations wouldn't be taking place in "Chinese-Mandarin" for at least a week, I hoped.

"You can hope, but that doesn't mean it won't happen," Bex commented.

We settled at our usual table in the Grand Hall, and I finally felt at home. Of course, I'd actually been back for three weeks, but my only company has been the newbies and the staff. The only thing worse than being the only upperclassman in a mansion full of seventh graders is hanging out in the teachers' lounge watching your Ancient Languages professor put drops in the ears of the world's foremost authority on data encryption while he'll never go scuba diving again. (Ew, mental picture of Mr. Mosckowitz in a wet suit! Gross!)

"EWWW!" All three girls said in unison while exchanging disgusted faces.

Since a girl can only read so many back issues of Espionage Today,

"Not me!" Liz exclaimed. "I need all the material for studying I can get!" Bex and Macey rolled their eyes at their friend's typical behavior.

I usually spent those pre-semester days wandering around the mansion, discovering hidden compartments and secret passageways that are at least a hundred years old and haven't seen good dusting in that , I tried to spend time with my mom, but she'd been super busy and totally distracted.

"Getting Mr. Solomon," Bex said.

"We know that now," Liz replied.

Remembering this now, I thought about Bex's mysterious absence and suddenly began to worry that maybe Liz had been onto something.

"Honestly, does Cammie not know me at all?" Bex asked.

Then Anna Fetterman squeezed onto the bench next to Liz and asked, "Have you seen it? Did you look?"

Macey interrupted, "Of course Liz looked at whatever it is. She's Liz."

Anna was holding a blue slip of paper that instantly dissolves when you put it in your mouth. (Even though it looks like it will taste like cotton candy, it doesn't-trust me!)

"I'm actually thinking about working on making it taste better. Cammie does have a point," Liz said thoughtfully.

I don't know why they always put our class schedule on Evapopaper-probably so we can use up our stash of the bad-tasting kind and move on to the good stuff, like mint chocolate chip.

"That might taste a bit funny," Liz interrupted. "I mean, think about it. It tastes like a cookie, but you feel paper in your mouth."

"True," agreed Macey.

But Anna wasn't thinking about the Evavpopaer flavor when she yelled, "We have Covert Operations!"

All three girls rolled thier eyes.

She sounded absolutely terrified, and I remembered that she was probably the only Gallagher Girl that Liz could take in a fistfight . I looked at Liz, and even she rolled her eyes at Anna's hysterics. After all, everyone knows sophomore year is the forst time we get to do anything that even approaches actual fieldwork. It's our first exposure to real spy stuff, but Anna seemed to be forgetting that the class itself was, sadly, kind of a cakewalk.

"Not that year," Liz mumbled, but being spies (in training), they still heard her.

"I'm pretty sure we can handle it," Liz soothed, prying the paper from Anna's frail hands. "All Buckingham does is tell horror stories about all the stuff she saw in World Was Two and show slides, remember? Ever since she broke her hip she's-"

"Very unspylike," Bex commented, while Macey just shrugged.

"But Buckingham is out!" Anna exclaimed, and this got my attention.

I'm pretty sure I stared at her for a second or two before saying,

"She did," Liz confirmed.

"Professor Buckingham is still here, Anna," not adding that I'd spent half the morning coaxing Onyx, her cat, down the top shelf of the staff library. "That's got to be just a start-of-school-rumor." There were always plenty of those-like how some girl got kidnapped by terrorists, or one of the staff members won a hundred grand on Wheel of Fortune.

"But that was actually true!" Liz said.

(Though, now that I think of it, that one was actually true.)

"Oh..." Liz said awkwardly.

"No," Anna said. "You don't understand. Buckingham's doing some kind of semiretirement thing. She's gonna do orientation and acclimation for the newbies-but that's it. She's not teaching anymore."

Wordlessly, our heads turned, and we counted seats at the staff table. Sure enough, there was an extra chair.

"Then who's teaching CoveOps?" I asked.

Bex stopped and said, "Wait. Who's teaching us this year?"

"I'm not sure. We'll probably find out tomorrow," Liz replied.

"You better hope it's not Townsend again," Macey commented.

"One can only hope," Bex said.

Just then a loud murmur rippled through the enormous room as my mom strolled through the doors at the back of the hall, followed by all the usual suspects-the twenty teachers I'd been looking at and learning from for the past three years. Twenty teachers. Twenty-one chairs. I know I'm a genius, but you do the math.

"Anyone can do that math," Macey scoffed. Liz agreed readily while Bex rolled her eyes.

Liz, Anna, and I all looked at each other, then back at the staff table as we ran through the faces, trying to comprehend that extra chair.

Liz interrupted, "It was just there! Mocking us." Bex thought Liz was losing her mind.

One face was new, but we were expecting that, because Professor Smith always returns from summer vacation with a whole new look-literally. His nose was larger, his ears more prominent, and a small mole had been added to his left temple, disguising what he claimed was the most wanted face on three continents.

"I still haven't found out if it's true or not," Liz said while frowning.

Rumor has it he's wanted by gun smugglers in the Middle East, ex-KGB hit men in Eastern Europe, and a very upset ex-wife somewhere in Brazil. Sure, all this experience makes him a great Countries of the World (COW) professor, but the best thing Professor Smith brings to the Gallagher Academy is the annual anticipation of guessing what face he will assume in order to enjoy his summer break. He hasn't come back as a woman yet, but it's probably just a matter of time.

"How awkward would that be?" Bex asked. "One day, seeing Mr. Smith as a woman. He'd be Ms. Smith. Knowing he'd had a sex change..." she trailed off.

The teachers took their seats, but the chair stayed empty as my mother took her place at the podium in the center of the long head table.

"She makes that chair sound like it'll eat her," Bex said.

"Seriously? You're still thinking about food?" Macey asked incredulously.

"Food tastes good," Bex shrugged.

"Just continue reading," Liz said timidly.

"Why? You were already there."

"Yeah, but I want to know what Cammie thought."

"Women of the Gallagher Academy, who comes here?" she asked.

Just then, every girl at every table (even the newbies) stood and said in unison, "We are the sisters of Gillian."

"Why do you come?" my mother asked.

"To learn her skills. Honor her sword. And keep her secrets," Macey and Liz said

"To what end do you work?"

"To the cause of justice and light."

"How long will you strive?"

"For all the days of our lives."

We finished, and I felt a little like a character on one of my grandma's soap operas.

We sat down, but Mom remained standing. "Welcome back, students," she said, beaming. "This is going to be a wonderful year here at the Gallagher Academy. For our newest members"-she turned to the table of seventh graders, who seemed to shiver under her intense gaze- "welcome. You are about to begin the most challenging year or your young lives. Rest assured that you would not have been given this challenge were you not up to it. To our returning students, this year will mark many changes."

"Like hot guys coming to our school," Bex muttered.

She glanced at her colleagues and seemed to ponder something before turning back to face us. "We have come to a time when-" But before she could finish, the doors flew open, and not even the three year of training at a spy school prepared me for what I saw.

"Her face was hilarious," Bex commented with a smile.

Before I say anymore, I should probably remind you that I GO TO A GIRLS' SCHOOL-that's all girls, all the time, with a few ear-drop-needing, plastic-surgery-getting male faculty members thrown in for good measure.

"That plastic-surgery-getting male might be female sometime soon," Macey said with a smirk.

But when we turned around, we saw a man walking in our midst who would have made James Bond feel insecure.

"I could make James Bond feel insecure," Bex said.

Indiana Jones would have looked like a momma's boy compared to the man in the leather jacket with two days' growth of beard who walked to where my mother stood and then-horror of horrors-winked at her.

"That was very inappropriate," Liz observed.

"Sorry I'm late," he said as he slid into the empty chair.

"Look! Now it's going to eat him, Bex," Macey said sarcastically and Bex glared at her.

His presence was so unprecedented, so surreal, that I didn't even realize Bex had squeezed onto the bench between Liz and Anna, and I had to do a double take when I saw her, and remembered that five seconds ago she'd been MIA.

"Does she have no faith in me?" Bex questioned.

"Trouble ladies?" she asked.

"Where have you been?" Liz demanded.

"Apparently, neither do you, Liz."

"Forget that," Anna cut in. "Who is he?"

But Bex was a natural-born spy. She just raised her eyebrows and said, "You'll see."

"So dramatic," Macey said. Bex just grinned.

"That's the end of the chapter," Bex said.

"Should we continue?" Liz asked.

"Maybe after dinner. I'm starving," Bex replied.

"For once, I'm not complaining. I'm hungry too," Macey agreed.

"Okay, after dinner," Liz said. Then they all left and went to the Grand Hall.

How was it? Leave a review please! Check out my other story too! *grabs Zach and forces him to make puppy dog eyes* Come on! His eyes are irresistible!

I think the only reason I started this is because I wanted to try 3POV.

Any requests for who you want to come? Except for Cammie, cuz I have no idea how to get her back from running away...

I was listening to Hush by Emily Osment and Josh Ramsay when I wrote this. Got it because of Josh, but surprisingly, her voice actually works o.O

I went hiking yesterday and I got dirt stuck in my contacts. Definitely bringing sunglasses next time...

Dedications! Thanks for reviewing! ^_^




Spies Do Bad Things For Goode Reasons (sorry! Fanfiction won't let me write your name properly...)