My hair was in a ponytail, and my shoes were scuffed. An average-looking, average-sounding American teenage girl. He patted my back, and I tried to see what he was seeing. I’m sure that if your test scores are any indication, you will have your pick.” “Oxford, Yale, Cornell, and Stanford,” I said, rattling off the universities that Liz had put on my hypothetical short list, answering the question I’d only half-heard. Holt asked, pulling me back to the moment. And I remembered with a pang what had happened to me the previous summer-that even Gallagher Girls aren’t always as strong as they need to be. Despite the fact that Grandma Morgan had spent the better part of Christmas break force-feeding me various things covered with gravy, my coat felt too big. I wasn’t as thin as I had been at the start of my senior year, but I was still a little underweight. But the sky overhead was gray, threatening rain.

The long lawns were green, even in winter. Holt turned up a path, and my mother and I followed. Oh, I highly doubt it, I thought, just as my mom said, “Oh, I’m sure you do.”ĭr. Whatever activities you enjoy, I’m sure we have them here.” “Well”-he pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up on his nose-“Cambridge is a very well-rounded university. But I still had one semester left at the Gallagher Academy.) (Not that I’d done either of those things yet. I didn’t, however, feel the need to add that by other things I meant learning how to kill a man with uncooked spaghetti and disarm nuclear bombs with Tootsie Rolls. We do…other things,” I told him, and reminded myself that it wasn’t a lie. Holt was simply trying his best to be nice. But I’ve been trained to hear what people don’t say-to see the things that are better kept hidden-so I knew that Dr.

Holt asked you something.” Mom nudged me. And, of course, I knew that last one was right on. Either that or a Sherlock Holmes impersonator. “Do you have an interest in rowing?” asked the man in the tweed cap and brown trench coat who was accompanying us. Safe.īut all I could do was muster a nod and add a not-very-enthusiastic “Yeah.” Isn’t it, Cammie?” I heard my mother ask. A single rower sliced through the channel like an arrow shooting out to sea, and I couldn’t help but stare after him, more than a little jealous. The water was still as we walked beside it.

United we spy book