And maybe we would have done exactly that, except when we reached the top of the Grand Stairs, I saw the light seeping from underneath my mother’s office door, and that was all the invitation I needed. I raced down the Hall of History and never looked back.
“Mom!” I yelled. “Mom, I’m—” I said, bursting through the door; but then I stopped cold because Joe Solomon was lying on the leather couch in my mother’s office. And, oh yeah, his shirt was totally off.
“Uh…” I said. I might have physically stumbled. But what else was I supposed to do at the sight of my teacher—and my mom’s new sort-of boyfriend—with his shirt off?
It was epic. It was awkward. It was epically awkward.
And judging from the traffic jam of girls who were plowing into me from behind, I totally wasn’t the only one who thought so.
“Uh…” Liz echoed me but couldn’t find the words to finish, either.
“I’m fine,” Mr. Solomon said, and then he tried to sit upright. I could see the bruises that covered his chest, spreading across his ribs. When he shifted on the sofa, I saw the massive gash in his side, and I felt the cold feeling of dread that maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d gotten hurt.
“Where’s Zach?” I blurted.
“He’s fine,” Mr. Solomon said, even though, technically, he hadn’t answered my question.
“Step aside, girls,” my mother said from behind us, and we moved out of the doorway and into the office, watched her dip a sponge into a bowl of sudsy water and kneel at Mr. Solomon’s feet. He winced when she brought the sponge to the long, ragged knife wound that ran across his ribs.
“Wimp,” she told him. He smiled.
“Did you find Catherine?” Bex blurted. “Did she do that to you?”
“No.” Mr. Solomon shook his head. He sounded more disappointed than pained, like he’d gladly suffer a thousand cuts if it meant bringing Zach’s mother to her end.
“Where is Zach?” I asked. “Is he…” I trailed off. I just looked at Mr. Solomon’s blood and couldn’t finish.
“Go to bed, girls,” Mom said, but she didn’t look at me. “I will deal with you in the morning.”
“But—” Liz started.
“But nothing.” Mom never took her eyes off of Joe Solomon. He winced again when she started wrapping a bandage tighter and tighter around his ribs.
“The hospital staff should be doing this,” she told him.
Mr. Solomon smiled. “I like the nurse I’ve got.”
“Girls, I need to debrief Mr. Solomon, and he needs to visit the hospital wing.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Mr. Solomon said, but Mom gave him her “mom” look and he backed down.
“He’s going to tell me about his mission, and then he’s going to have his head CAT scanned and his ribs X-rayed. I will talk to you girls in the morning.” She ushered us toward the door. “It will all be better tomorrow.”
I wanted to think it was true—that my mother was right, and that there was nothing a night in my own bed would not fix. But I wasn’t so certain. Especially when we walked into the suite and saw that someone was already sleeping in my bed.
“Zach!” I didn’t care that I was yelling. I ran to him. He propped himself up on one elbow and gave me a sleepy smile.
“You woke me,” he said.
“You’re not supposed to be in this part of the school,” I said.
He took my hand, held it against his chest, and said, “Spy.”
“Hello, Zachary.” Bex was sauntering through the door. “It’s nice to see you. Now, get out.”
He didn’t have to be told twice. He pushed himself off the bed and started for the door, pulling me along behind him.
We didn’t say a word as we crept down the hall lined with suites filled with sleeping girls. Neither of us spoke when we reached the spiraling staircase at the back of the school.
The stone was cold against my skin. A freezing wind blew through the cracks in the old windows. But Zach’s hand was warm in mine, and I didn’t feel the chill, even when he stopped me on the stairs, pressed me against the wall, and kissed me. Softly at first, then more urgently, hungrily. It was like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.
“Hi,” he said finally, pulling back and running his hands through my hair.
“Hi,” I said and kissed him again. I didn’t think about the classes I’d missed or the ones that would be waiting on me in just a few hours. I couldn’t even dream of going to bed.
“You were gone,” I whispered into his skin. “You were gone for so long.”
“I’m back now.”
“Don’t go again,” I told him, but he said nothing. That was the kind of promise that spies could never make, so he just took my hand and led me farther down the stairs, into the wide corridor that ran along the back of the school.
“You saw Preston?” he asked when we reached the warmth of the hall.
I nodded.
“And they took him?”
Again, I couldn’t say the words but didn’t have to.
“Where were you, Zach?”
“Looking” was his answer.
“For your mom?” My voice cracked, but I didn’t hide it.
“We didn’t find her.”
“She found us. In Cambridge. She killed Walter Knight.” I made myself look at him, see the hurt that filled his eyes. He already knew about our mission, of course. But I had to say it anyway. I had to be the one to tell him, even if he wasn’t hearing it for the first time.
“I’m so sorry. If she hurt you…” He ran his hand along my neck and shifted my head, as if to make sure everything was the way it should be.
“I’m fine.”
“I’ll kill her.”
“Don’t say that, Zach.”
“But I will, Cammie.” He pulled away from me then, as if he couldn’t bear to touch me with his hands—dirty hands. Like I deserved better than to be touched by the hands of a killer. “Someday. I will.”
“No.” I reached for him.
“Yes.” His voice was sad, not cocky. It was like he’d seen the future, and he was finally telling me the thing he’d always known, Zachary Goode’s great and final secret. “I will.”