Killer Spirit (21 page)

CHAPTER 30

Code Word: Issues

I’d finally talked the others into stepping up and accepting Amelia’s challenge, but nothing I’d said could dissuade Brooke from trying to get authorization to do so. As she pointed out, Amelia had said that we couldn’t tell our superiors what she’d told us, or what we were doing. She never said we couldn’t make up a reason why we needed to be reinstated on the case.

“Hi…Mom? It’s me. Listen, there’s been a development on the thing.” Brooke paused, and walked away from the rest of us a little. “You know, the
thing
thing.”

I could hear the voice from the other end of the phone, but couldn’t make out the words. Based on whatever Mrs. Camden said, Brooke dropped the cheer-tone in her voice and switched over to operative mode without so much as a bat of her eyelashes. “We’ve reanalyzed all of the data we collected during the course of this case, and we have reason to believe that somebody should still be keeping an eye on—”

This time, the voice from the other end was louder, and I wondered what exactly it was that finally got a verbal rise out of Brooke’s mother, despite her I’m-just-a-sweet-PTA-mom façade.

“We think there may be more to this weapon than previously realized, and that it would behoove us to have as much surveillance on the TCIs as possible until…”

Brooke frowned as she listened to the other end. “What do I want you to do? I want you to get us back on this, or short of that, to tell your bosses that we could be looking at something major here.”

Hearing Brooke talk to her mother that way cheered me up significantly. She’d just lain down and taken it the day before. At least now she was arguing.

“Yes, I’m aware that the votes for homecoming are cast tomorrow, Moth-er.” Brooke broke the last word down into two syllables. “But—”

More talking from the other end of the line.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Brooke asked plaintively. Then she let out a breath. “What about the extra security?” she asked. “Can you at least…no, I’m not going to hire a bunch of freshman boys to pretend to be pirates. I don’t care how effective you think that would be. Are you even listening to me?”

I think everyone present knew the answer to that question was a resounding no.

“In that case,” Brooke said tersely, “I have to go. First period’s getting ready to start, and I have to look my best.”

And with those words, Brooke hung up the phone. “She wouldn’t listen to a word I said, and apparently, all of their resources have been relocated to the airport. They got an anonymous tip this morning.”

I was willing to bet a lot of money the tip in question had come from Amelia herself. This was her game, and she was making damn sure that we played it her way.

“So they wouldn’t even sign off on us tailing a TCI they think is harmless?”

Brooke shook her head.

“Can’t you go over her head on this?” I asked. “I mean, we could contact the real Big Guys.”

I couldn’t bring myself to think of Brooke’s mom as the end-all-be-all of the Big Guy decision task force. She and Brooke had so many mommy-daughter issues clouding their relationship that it was practically raining passive aggression.

“I could,” Brooke said, “but if we go over her head and it turns out to be nothing…” She trailed off. “And besides, if I were to officially report in, I’d probably have to clue them in to the fact that your position has been compromised. Twice.”

Once by Amelia, once by whoever had tagged me. When she put it that way, I decided that contacting the Really Big Guys probably wasn’t a good idea. Brooke had refrained from mentioning the chip literally in my shoulder to her mother, probably as a subtle way of avenging her hair against her mother’s criticism. Eventually, she’d tell someone about it, but I knew enough about the way this system worked to know that it would be in my best interest if no one knew that I’d been tagged until after we’d isolated the person who’d seen past my cover, which was now next on my To Do list after taking down Connors-Wright and Amelia, in that order.

Otherwise, I might not have to worry about revisiting all of my homecoming issues by the time prom rolled around, because if my cover was permanently blown, I wouldn’t still be on the Squad. If there even was a Squad.

“Even if we take Amelia down, if we don’t find the person who stole the weapon in the first place, I’m screwed.” There wasn’t a person in the room who hadn’t already come to this realization, which was saying something, since Bubbles and the twins perpetually had their heads in the clouds. “And the only lead we have on that person is the bomb, the list of operatives in Bayport, and the fact that there aren’t many people in this world who can touch me and walk away in one piece.”

“We’ll deal with that later. Right now, we have to concentrate on Amelia,” Chloe said, “because if the unthinkable happens and it turns out that you actually aren’t an idiot and Amelia was being straight with you, then we really don’t have a choice. The Big Guys aren’t going to stop Connors-Wright from using the weapon, and they’re not going to stop Amelia from stealing it. Besides, if Amelia steals the weapon, who’s to say Connors-Wright won’t go ahead with his plan anyway and just shoot somebody?”

The others nodded in agreement—every single one of them. I chose to believe that they were agreeing with Chloe’s general assessment, and not the tone with which it was delivered. No one on the Squad wanted to see what would happen if Anthony worked out his Daddy Issues in a very public, very violent way. It went against the unspoken moral code of cheerleading operatives. Rumor mongering? Morally acceptable. Murder and mayhem—not so much.

“We have to do something.” Brooke said the words quietly, as if she wished she wasn’t saying them. Despite the fact that she’d tried to stand up to her mother, this was taking Brooke Independence to a completely unprecedented degree. If things went badly, it was her head on the chopping block, and I couldn’t think of anything worse than knowing that your own mother would be the executioner.

Brooke breathed out heavily, and then she seemed to realize that she was breaking her own rule and showing way more weakness (if by weakness, you meant actual feeling) than she ever had before. “New plan,” she said. “Zee and I are going after Connors-Wright. Amelia said we couldn’t take him down until three. She didn’t say anything about tailing him. Chloe, you find out whatever you can about the chip, and we’ll keep you on constant radio contact. Britt and Tiff, I want you two to get as close as you can to the politician Connors-Wright’s father is guarding. A bodyguard will never be far away from his charge, and the good senator doesn’t have any public appearances scheduled before the press conference. I’m sure he’ll make an exception for his local fan club, especially when the fan club is…” Brooke just gestured to the twins.

They weren’t the prettiest girls on the Squad. They didn’t have Lucy’s earnestness or Zee’s exotic look, or even Brooke’s flawlessly symmetrical face, but they knew how to work what they did have. They were blond, they were built, and they were (I had been told) five times hotter together than either of them was apart. There wasn’t a politician alive who could resist the Sheffield twins.

“What about the rest of us?” Tara asked.

“Chloe will keep you guys apprised of the situation,” Brooke said. “Unless you hear otherwise, plan to be at the park by no later than three. I’ll send you guys exact orders once we manage to do a little recon, but our priorities are getting the weapon and getting Amelia. After that, we’ll deal with finding out who planted the tracking chip in Toby’s shoulder—assuming it wasn’t Amelia herself.”

How many times did I have to say “she didn’t touch me” before it sank in?

“Lucy, we’re going to need every long-range paralyzing weapon you’ve got. I want Amelia unconscious the second we spot her. It’ll have to be something she’s not expecting, so get creative. Britt, Tiff, before you guys leave to find the senator, I need you to work your magic on Amelia’s picture and give us a rundown of the potential disguises you think would be most effective for her to use. We can’t underestimate her, and that means assuming she’s as good as you are. Chloe, anyone who comes with you after school needs to be in deep cover. I don’t care if you have to dress up like boys—don’t let Amelia recognize you.”

A buzzer went off then, letting us know that first period was a mere ten minutes away from starting. Without a word, Chloe headed off to her lab, and the twins went to theirs. Zee hung back with Brooke, and the others slowly drifted off toward the locker room, to get changed and get ready for class.

How did they get used to this? Knowing what I knew, how was I supposed to make it through a day at high school, watching three o’clock get closer and closer by the second?

“Toby.” Brooke said my name, and I turned around to face her. Was this the part when I said thank you? Or maybe the part when she did?

“You can’t go.” Apparently, this was the part when she issued more orders.

“Can’t go where?” I asked, truly baffled.

“This afternoon. Even if we need every man we’ve got, even if all the others go, you can’t.”

I stared at her. I was the one who’d uncovered this whole thing, and now she was telling me I couldn’t be a part of it? What a suckfest.

“You’ve been ID’d,” she said. “Whoever this agent is—assuming it’s not Amelia—he knows who you are. You’d lead him straight to the rest of us, and there’s no way for us to know for sure that you’re completely clean. You’ll have to go through a complete body scan later, to make sure there aren’t any more plants on you, but there’s no way I can pull that off without raising some major questions with our superiors. We can’t afford to have them questioning us right now.”

Damn it. Since when had Brooke become so…so…reasonable?

“So what am I supposed to do seventh period?” I asked. When I’d first joined the Squad, the biggest perk wasn’t the royal treatment I got from the whole school. It was the fact that I was henceforth excused from gym class for seventh-period practice.

“Well,” Brooke said, smiling in a way that had me prepping myself for bad, bad news. “We still need to paint the banners for the game on Friday…”

Double damn. Damn to the nth degree. Everyone but me was going to go out and save the day, and I was going to be stuck in the practice gym by myself painting banners for a football game.

I forced myself to look at the bright side. If worse came to worse, I could always entertain myself by coming up with some creative banner sayings.

Zee took one look at the expression on my face and shook her head. “Stick with
Go Bayport,
” she advised. “Or maybe
Beat Hillside.
No obscenities. No sarcasm. And nothing that even remotely suggests that the football team has the combined IQ of a spider monkey.”

She knew me too, too well, but I have to confess—the spider monkey part had never even crossed my mind. Zee may have misjudged Amelia, but there are times when her genius really shines through.

CHAPTER 31

Code Word: Betrayal

By the time I managed to wrangle my way back into the inarguably uncomfortable boots, I didn’t have much time to desweatify myself before heading to first period, and for once, the twins weren’t there to do it for me, and everyone else was so busy doing their own last-minute primping that no one seemed to notice that for the first time since I’d joined up, I looked somewhat less than Godlike.

Knowing better than to press my luck, I snuck out of the locker room before anyone had a chance to do damage control on my barely made-up face, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like myself. I mean, yeah, I was wearing God Squad clothes, and yes, my hair was still God Squad hair, and practice had done nothing to dampen my Bounce Index, but I wasn’t perfect, and I didn’t look it.

I didn’t look like the old me, either, but it was a start.

Half of me expected to run into Jack on my way to first period, and I purposefully didn’t pay much attention to where I was walking, tempting fate to re-create the interaction we’d shared yesterday. And the day before. In just two days, things between us had gotten so much more physical, so much more intense.

Then, just as I was reaching up to open the door to my geometry class, I came to the single most horrible realization of my life. Things had cooled down between Jack and me right after our first kiss. I’d been sending him back-off signals, and he’d respected that, even if he’d done it in a way that let me know that he wouldn’t stay away forever. And then, at the pep rally, he’d called off the truce and come up to me.

He’d touched me.

Had he touched my shoulder? Had he squeezed me while we were kissing? Had he planted something in my skin while my mind was too occupied with his lips to notice or care?

I hadn’t spent much time thinking about how I’d gotten tagged, or who might have tagged me, but really, there weren’t that many options. I went to school, I went to practice, and I went home. Since I was pretty sure I could rule out Noah and my parents, and since the other girls had no reason to tag me, that left either school or some random interaction I’d had in transit.

And if someone at school had tagged me…

The thought ate at me, chewed at my skin and my stomach, and crawled up the back of my spine until I thought I was literally going to puke up all of the coffee I hadn’t drunk that morning. Except for the Squad, Bayport High wasn’t exactly a cesspool of secret identities. There was only one other person at this school who could have possibly had access to the kind of technology that Tara had cut from my skin that morning.

Jack.

I’d thought it myself. Of everyone at our school, he was the one person most likely to figure out our secret, and he was the one whose discovery would devastate our operation the most.

I just hadn’t realized how much it would devastate me.

“Thinking about me, Ev?”

For a second, I thought I was imagining his voice, but then his hands were on my neck, and he was leaning in for the kiss.

I don’t exactly remember what happened next. It’s all a little fuzzy, but the next thing I knew, Jack was on his back halfway down the hall, and my blood was pumping the way it only did after a fight. Most guys probably would have reacted poorly to that kind of violence, but Jack wasn’t most guys. He just climbed to his feet and held up his hands. “I come in peace,” he said, “and I swear to you, it wasn’t my idea.”

That was less than comforting. He’d used me. He’d pretended…The things he’d said! The way he’d made me…And the whole time he was…

I couldn’t seem to put a whole sentence together, even in the sanctity of my own mind. It didn’t occur to me—even for a second—that when we’d first met, our positions had been reversed. I’d been the one using him. The first time we’d kissed had been in his father’s office, on the tail end of my part in our first mission of the season.

“It wasn’t your idea,” I repeated dumbly. “So whose was it? Your father’s?”

I was vaguely aware of the fact that we had an ever-growing audience. It’s funny how quickly you can get used to that given the right circumstances.

“My father’s?” Jack repeated incredulously. “No offense, Ev, but I don’t think dear old dad really cares whether you win homecoming queen or not.”

Homecoming queen?

The incredible sense of betrayal in my gut faltered, but I had to remind myself that this guy was a player. He’d made a life out of being on top, and you didn’t get there—guy or girl—without knowing the rules of pretense as well as every girl on the Squad did. Jack had explained some of them to me himself.

He was pretending. He had to be.

“If you want to permanently injure someone,” Jack said, still keeping a safe distance, “I’d suggest venting your anger on Noah. This whole thing was his doing, not mine. He didn’t exactly ask for my permission first.”

Noah? Homecoming and Noah? The wheels in my head were turning slowly.

“What did Noah do?” I asked.

“You’re going to make me actually say it?” Jack asked. “Come on, Toby. Have a heart. You already kicked my ass.”

I had to admire the fact that he could admit it so freely.

Wait, I thought. No. I did not have to admire that! I didn’t have to admire ANYTHING about Jack Peyton. Not now. Not when I wasn’t at all convinced that he hadn’t used me to get to the Squad.

“If I come closer, are you going to go all kung fu on me again?” Jack asked slowly.

My eyes narrowing into teeny-tiny slits, I shrugged. I wasn’t about to make any promises.

“Guess I’ll have to take my chances then,” he said, and then he was by my side again, whispering into my ear. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re really cute when you’re proving yourself strangely deadly?”

I bristled at the word
cute
and the way he said it. He was taunting me. I’d thrown him clear across the hallway, and now, he was taunting me. He was either very brave or very stupid.

Or maybe, he was perfect.

I tried to keep the sappy thoughts out of my head. I tried not to be affected by how close the two of us were standing. Batting 0-for-2, I tried to remember that nothing he’d said was a guarantee that my original assumption about his guilt was wrong.

About that time, my brother came sauntering down the hall, his arms full of what appeared to be life-sized cutouts.

I looked from Noah to Jack and then back again, just as Noah deposited one of the cutouts in front of the classroom across the hall. It was Jack, in all of his A-list glory, and Noah had pasted a sign into his cutout hand.
JACK PEYTON IS HOT. TOBY KLEIN IS HOTTER. VOTE TOBY AND JACK FOR HOMECOMING COURT.

Noah went merrily on his way down the hall, ignoring me, the look in my eyes, and the fact that Jack had started laughing. The bell rang then, and our audience groaned. Unlike the two of us, the others might actually get into trouble for being late for class. I turned to go to my geometry classroom, but Jack pulled me back toward him.

“For the record,” he said, no hint of a smile on his otherwise perfect face, “I still think Mr. Corkin is the hottest.”

“For the record,” I said, “if I find out you had anything to do with those cutouts, I’m going to kick your ass. Again.”

“So noted.”

And that was that.