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on my head, then his eyes searched mine.
"Don't you worry about anything, young lady. We're going to take good care
of all of you."
    I
nodded and looked away, thinking about my cover—I was supposed to be scared and
tired and ready to let someone else fight for Macey.
    Then
I remembered that the best covers always have their roots in the truth.
     
     
    "And
the walls circle the entire grounds?" Agent Hughes asked as we walked
around the campus.
    "Yes," my mom said.
    "According
to the blueprints, you do have security cameras?" His gaze drifted along
our ivy-covered walls.
    "Yes," Mom said calmly.
"Some."
    (Actually,
there are 2,546, but for obvious reasons she didn't share that.)
    "Well,"
the agent went on, "I'm sure our people can consult with you on how
to"—he seemed to be considering his words—"tighten things up a
bit."
    "Yes,"
my mom said with a glance toward me—her daughter, who had been slipping through
the Gallagher Academy defenses for years. "That would be most helpful"
    And
then panic set in. The Secret Service was going to be "tightening"
things?
    "As
the advance team told you last week, we'll be placing one of our agents with
Ms. McHenry."
    The
Secret Service was going to be "placing" people?
    "Full-time,"
Agent Hughes added. "Someone to go with her to classes. Live here.
Accompany her everywhere she goes."
    The
Secret Service was going to be "accompanying" us places?
    I
looked at Bex and Liz, watched them swallow the same terror I was feeling. Our
school has prepared us for a lot of things, but I had to wonder if anything had
prepared us for that.
    But
the surprises were only just beginning, because then my mother smiled and said,
"Of course."
    The
agent walked ahead, appraising our grounds, our walls, our life. At the end of
our long (and heavily protected) lane, satellite dishes rose from news trucks,
ready to beam pictures of our school around the world, and I knew the most
dangerous thing in our history was about to happen in front of this man's very
eyes.
    And there was nothing any of us
could do to stop it.
    "Oh,"
Agent Hughes said when the gates parted for one last car. "Right on
schedule."
    The
limo turned onto the drive, but instead of pulling closer to the mansion, it
stopped. Men in dark suits swarmed the car, and I remembered how, a year ago, a
car just like that had brought Macey to us. Like deja vu, Senator and Mrs.
McHenry climbed from the backseat and stood framed between our great stone
gates.
    I
could hear the reporters' chatter in the distance. The flashing bulbs of their
cameras sparkled even in the summer sun.
    And then the car door opened
again.
    And just like that the deja vu
was over.
    A
year before, Macey had stepped from the backseat of a nearly identical car, but
this time, instead of combat boots, she wore pumps almost exactly like her
mother's. Her short skirt and diamond nose stud were replaced with modest black
pants, a sweater, and a sling.
    At
first I hoped her clothing was the only difference; but I barely recognized the
girl who allowed her mother to hug her tightly, who didn't protest when her
father took her good hand and lifted their united fists toward the sky.
    Bex
cut me a look that said Are you sure you were the one with head trauma? but I just watched the three
McHenrys push past the cameras and the questions and start toward the school.
Back to us. I thought about the girl who had come to us last fall and the one
who had left last spring and, finally, about the young woman who had shivered
by a lake, and I wondered which one of Macey's cover identities she was going
to be now.
    As
they came closer I waited for her to catch my eye and smile that mischievous
smile she'd given me outside her parents' suite in Boston, but when I stepped
forward, a broad body in a dark suit moved to block my path.
    "Excuse
me, miss," the Secret Service agent said. It was the first time any of
them had seen me as a threat, but I didn't take it as a compliment.
    Behind
me, I heard my