I suppose a lot of teenage girls feel invisible sometimes, like they just disappear. Well, that's me—Cammie the Chameleon. But I'm luckier than most because, at my school, that's considered cool.

I go to a school for spies.

Women of the Gallagher Academy, who comes here?" she asked.

Just then, every girl at every table (even the newbies) stood and said in unison, "We are the sisters of Gillian."

"Why do you come?" my mother asked.

"To learn her skills. Honor her sword. And keep her secrets."

"To what end do you work?"

"To the cause of justice and light."

"How long will you strive?"

"For all the days of our lives," we finished and I felt a little like a character in one of my grandma's soap operas.

Abby must have been the one who found the safe house, because Townsend didn't like it.

"The building across the street is under construction," he snarled as soon as we'd carried our bags inside.

"The elevator has key card access, and I've hacked into the surveillance cameras from every system on the block," Abby argued. "We have a three-hundred-sixty-degree visual."

"Excellent." Townsend dropped his bag. "Now the circle can see us from every angle."

"Don't mind Agent Townsend, girls," Abby told us. "He's a glass-half-empty kind of spy."

"Also known as the good kind," he countered.

Abby huffed.

and then Zach said a really bad word, but I doubt DeeDee noticed because it was in Farsi

I didn’t know what was more disturbing—the fact that something was obviously wrong, or that three faculty members of the world’s premiere spy school had forgotten to lock the door.

Waiting. Like it or not, it's a skill all spies have to master eventually.