Dropping Like Spies - A Gallagher Girls Story

Chapter Twenty-Four

Waking up the next morning was hard.  It was how I imagine a hangover to feel—slow and sharp.  It lasted through breakfast and through my goodbyes.  Through airport security and across the Atlantic Ocean.  The only relief I felt was when I took a nap, but as soon as I woke up, Scout’s head on my shoulder, it was like starting the morning all over again.

But it was the car ride back to school that really started to get to me, inviting in a new dread with each and every passing mile.  When Scout drove up to those familiar gates, I felt my stomach sink.  “Can I help you?” asked a gruff man through Scout’s window.

Scout started to explain, but he didn’t need to.  I just leaned forward against my seatbelt and waved.  “Hey Martin,” I said.

The man in the window grinned, which highlighted the scar that crossed his cheek.  Martin is the head of security at the Gallagher Academy.  He and I are good friends, mostly because he’s been getting dragged into the aftermath of my impulsivity for years.  Martin’s the man who cleans up my messes, but I knew that he couldn’t clean up this one.  “Oh, Miss Maggie,” he said, his southern drawl muddling up his words.  “You’re in some real trouble this time.”

He leaned into his booth and buzzed us in, the wrought iron gates inching open with the grace that was usually associated with royalty.   The dread only grew stronger as we followed that twisting drive.  Scout checked to make sure I had everything, but really I think he was just stalling—holding on to those last few moments during which Morgan Goode wasn’t just another headstone in the family plot.  But we both know we could only put it off for so long, so we said our goodbyes and before I knew it, I was alone, looking up at that grand mansion and wondering how it had never felt so big before.

Those first few steps were the hardest, but once I got momentum going, it wasn’t so bad.  I made it through the doors and up the stairs.  I made it past Gilly’s sword.  Past my mother.  I only hesitated when I reached the Headmistress’ office.

My hand felt like it was stuck on the knob, but eventually I was able to turn it and push.  I was shocked to see who was on the other side.  I probably shouldn’t have been.  I probably should’ve expected to see my father waiting for me.

He was sitting just in front of Grandma’s desk, both of them looking far more worried than I had been expecting.  He was hunched over, elbows on knees and hands in his hair.  At the sound of my entrance, he shot up in his seat, snapping his gaze in my direction.  He had deep, dark circles under his eyes and with one look, I felt the guilt punch me in the gut.

You did this to him, my mother hissed.

“Mags.”  The word was a sigh—as if he’d been holding his breath for an entire day and now he could finally breathe again.  He stood and darted towards me.  Before I even knew what was happening, his arms were around me and I was finally allowed to relax. Finally, the heaviness that I had woken up with was gone.

It had been the absence.  I hadn’t known it, but the cloud looming over me all morning had been the absence, but with Dad, it started to fade.  With Dad, the absence didn’t seem to hurt as much and suddenly, I felt the need to hug my father back.  To wrap my arms around him and keep him there forever.  “I’m sorry,” I said.  “I am.”

He held me at arm’s length, tucking a stray curl behind my ear and swiping a tear from my cheek—both habits which come from fatherhood and not from being a spy.  “I am so unbelievably angry with you,” he said.

“I know.”

“What were you thinking?”  he asked, looking over every inch of me, checking to see that my brother had returned me in the same state he had taken me.  “Are you safe?  Are you feeling okay—do you even know how stupid that was?”