Don't Judge a Girl by Her Cover Read Online Free PDF Page A

seen and done. But that day I didn't ask for details.
That day, I had seen enough to know that maybe I didn't want to hear the
stories.
    "What
happened?" I asked. I didn't look at my mother or my teacher. My fingers
traced the pattern of the quilt. I was the one who had been there, and yet all
I could do was say, "I mean, was it…"
    "A
kidnapping attempt?" Mr. Solomon finished for me, and I nodded, trying to
act as professional as my teacher sounded. "These things, they happen—or
almost happen— more than you'd think." I tried to nod and smile. After
all, the true measure of covert operations lies in how much nobody ever knows.
But people were going to know about this. "Ninety-nine times out of a
hundred it doesn't get that far, but—"
    "They
were good," I said, almost shaking with the memory.
    Mr.
Solomon nodded. "Yeah," he said, as if a part of him couldn't help
but be impressed. "They were. Secret Service and FBI are going to have
some questions for you. Ms. Morgan, these agents will have Level Six clearance
at the most—so you know what you're going to have to tell them?"
    I
nodded. "My roommate invited me to the convention. We were attacked on the
roof. We got away." I felt myself reciting the cover story I'd have to
tell; I found myself remembering that I know fourteen different languages and
yet my life is ruled by the things I cannot say.
    I
glanced out the window, saw the trees that surrounded us, a clearing, and in
the distance a sparkling lake. Macey stood on the end of a long pier, looking
out at the water.
    "We
got lucky," I added softly, and at that moment my cover story didn't feel
like a lie at all.
    My
mother's cell phone rang and she rushed to take it. I heard her whispering to
someone she called Sir. I turned and looked out the window at the girl on the
pier, and then I got up slowly and stepped toward an old-fashioned screened
door.
    "There's
nothing wrong up there," Mr. Solomon said. I stopped and turned to see him
pointing toward my groggy head. "Trust me, Cammie, everything's gonna be
fine." He touched a faded scar on his temple. "I know a little something
about these things."
    Mr.
Solomon was the best teacher I'd ever had, and I didn't want to disappoint him.
So I lied and said, "I know."
     
     
    "Hey,"
I said as I reached the end of the pier. Macey was still standing there,
staring out at the still, quiet lake. Scrapes ran down her left cheek. Her
right eye was rimmed with black, and her left arm dangled from a totally
unflattering sling. As I walked toward her, I couldn't help but think that if
that was what Macey looked like, then I probably never wanted to see a mirror again.
    "Welcome back," she
said.
    "Thanks."
    "How's the head?"
    "Hurts.
How's the arm?" My roommate didn't answer. She didn't comment on my
hideous hair or the bruises on our faces that no amount of concealer could
hide.
    There
were too many things to say, so I didn't press her. Instead I shifted and
listened to the boards creak beneath my feet and thought about how our school
had taught us how to get off that roof, but nothing in our exceptional
education had told us what we were supposed to do next.
    I
wanted to sit in the CoveOps classroom and listen while Mr. Solomon dissected
every move, every clue, every punch.
    And
I wanted to block it from my mind and never think about it again.
    I
wanted to know who had done this and why and how.
    And
I wanted to believe that it was over, and those
    were the kinds of details that
didn't matter now.
    I
wanted to take the greatest training I had ever received and learn from it, and
be better because of it.
    And I wanted it to stop being
real.
    I
wanted a thousand different things as we stood there, but most of all, I wanted
the girl who had been beside me in Boston to turn and realize that I was beside
her now.
    "I
heard Charlie is going to make it," I said, but Macey didn't smile.
    "Have
you talked to Preston?" I tried, but her gaze never wavered.
    "Macey,
do you want to talk about