“You knew I was going to high school, didn’t you.”
“Of course,” he said. “I thought you might be ready for the challenge.”
I put the magazines on my lap, feeling a little bad. All I had done since I had seen him was complain. “I’m sorry, Angelo. I’ll be fine. I’ll survive the cutthroat experience with minimal scarring. What’s happening with you? How long are you here?”
“Oh, who knows,” he said, using a tone that said he definitely knew. “I’m enjoying my little life, my neighborhood, my new knives.”
“Are you slicing and dicing food or people?”
“Food.” He frowned down at me. “Really, Maggie.”
“Just checking.” I grinned. “Any cool assignments lately?”
“Oh, here and there,” he said, maddeningly vague. “I enjoy a bit of retirement now and then.”
“Pfft,” I scoffed at him. “Retirement? This from the man whose idea of fun is outrunning diamond smugglers in Botswana?”
He frowned. “Your parents weren’t supposed to tell you about that.”
“They didn’t. I overheard.”
He raised a disapproving eyebrow at me and sighed. “That’s very uncouth, Maggie.”
I just grinned. “Careful when you throw those rocks from your glass house,” I teased him. “Seriously, Angelo. Why don’t you go work for the Collective in London? You’d be good at it. You’re all mysterious and calm.”
Angelo shifted a little and looked over my head at the birdhouse. “Quite a ridiculous pagoda for birds,” he murmured. “And I don’t know, my dear. We shall see what happens.”
I was about to ask more, but he cut me off with, “Now, darling, I have to be going, but don’t worry, I’ll be around as you need me.” He stood up and straightened his suit jacket. “And you are going to be a lovely student. Just remember what we say—it’s all make-believe.”
“Make them believe,” I replied. Angelo had been drilling that into my head for years. “Thanks for the magazines.”
“And thank you for the espresso. A fair trade, I’m sure.” He offered me his arm. “Walk an old man out?”
I rolled my eyes but took his arm anyway. “Back to the world of assumed identities and dark secrets,” I said as we passed through the gates.
“Just like everyone else,” he replied, then leaned over and kissed the top of my head. “Tell your wonderful parents hello.” And just like that, he slipped his arm from mine and went around the corner, disappearing once again.
After Angelo left, I circled the park once to see if there were any new locks that I hadn’t seen yet. They were still the same, though, simple and easy to access, and I knocked back the rest of my espresso, spilling a drop on my white shirt (of course), and headed home.
My mom called when I was two blocks away from the loft. At first I didn’t even realize it was my phone that was ringing. It was a new disposable cell that had some crazy German-dance-rave ringtone, and by the time I finally got it out of my bag, I was mortified.
“Where are you?”
“I went to see a friend,” I said. “A friend” is what we call Angelo over the phone. “He bought me magazines with teenage girls in them.”
“How nice.” She totally wasn’t paying attention. “How was school?”
“Wow,” I said, “how weird is that question coming out of your mouth?”
“It’s definitely odd,” she replied, “and you didn’t answer it.”
My jacket flapped a little in the breeze from the river, and I tried to button it with one hand. “Frustrating,” I told her. “I didn’t see him yet.”
“Really? Why not?”
“Because there are a thousand people at that school!” I exploded. “And apparently he ditches a lot, so if you want me to meet him, then I guess I’m going to have to start smoking really bad weed in some back alley with all the other delinquents, or whatever it is that he does!” I sighed and shoved my hair out of my face. Stupid bangs. “This is difficult, okay? It requires a little precision. I’m safecracking a person. I gotta figure out the code before I’m in.”
“Honey, we need to get this information as soon as possible—”
“I know!” I cried. “You think I don’t know that? I’m very aware that this whole thing is on me, thank you very much.”
“Margaret.”
“Sorry,” I said immediately. “Look, I can do this. I can do this better than anyone because I am a spy, okay? I am a great spy and—and something is licking me.”
There was a definite wetness on my calf and I glanced down to see a huge, shaggy golden retriever pushing his nose against my leg, then giving me a big doggie grin. I had seen this dog somewhere before, and I looked from the dog to his leash to his very cute owner.
Oh, no, I suddenly realized, my heartbeat flying into overdrive. Oh no, oh no, oh no.
“So,” Jesse Oliver said, “what’s this about being a great spy?”
“Maggie?” my mother chirped on the other hand. “What exactly is licking you?”
“Bye,” I said, then pressed the END button as fast as possible. Jesse was still standing there; his dog was lying down, still giving me the doggie smile. “Um, do you always eavesdrop?” I asked. “It’s rude.”