Making the Grade (The Model Spy #2)

Chapter 1 - Dining Disaster

Life was as normal as it could be for me that spring evening. I was sitting at a table in a five-star L.A. restaurant with Will Antalio, the hottest guy at L.A. High. On top of being gorgeous, he was the school’s star football quarterback. He was every girl’s dream guy and he was interested in me, Laura Porter, an everyday girl.

Not to mention an agent for the CIA.

Ok, so my life wasn’t that normal. But it was as normal as it was going to get.

Of course Will didn’t know I was a spy. He had no idea that I spent over a week in Paris last fall, undercover as a model. My partner Zach and I were supposed to catch a crazy mass murderer. The murderers ended up being an old lady and a teen girl working with a totally cute British guy, Dylan. Anyone could be a murderer and that case definitely proved it.

After the case, Zach got promoted to Langley. I was proud of him, he was a big-shot now. When we first met, we couldn’t stand each other, but by the end of our time in Paris we became pretty good friends. I thought we had anyway.

Obviously Zach didn’t find me that good of a friend because he hadn’t written to me in six months. I knew he was busy, but I thought that Zach, more than anybody, would have found time to write to me. I had no idea if he was even alive. Last I heard of him, he was after a serial killer in London.

I sighed. I missed him a lot, not that I would have let him know that, of course.

Will looked up from the menu, his brown curls hanging over his forehead. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t see anything you like?”

I shook my head. “No, no, no,” I said, “I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I was stifling a yawn. Sorry.” 

“You’re so cute,” he said before returning his attention to the menu.

My lying skills were getting a little better. Still, any spy or hardened criminal could probably see through them. Fred, my guardian, was trying to help me improve. He even went so far as to give me a daily chore: tell one convincing lie a day. Only in a CIA family would that rule make any sense.

The two of us were even treating it like a game. A scorecard hung on the fridge in Fred’s kitchen, our names written on the white piece of paper in thick, black marker. So far Fred was crushing me. He had caught me lying a whopping 83 days. The only time he didn’t catch me in a lie was when I said I got an A on my physics exam. I really got a D, but I think Fred just really hoped my slacking grades in science were turning around.

My most recent lie going unnoticed by Will, I looked back at the menu. Ugh. It was French. I vowed to never eat anything French ever again. As far as I was concerned, France was no longer a country. I didn’t want to remember what had happened there. All I wanted to think about was being a teenager. Fred promised not to send me on any missions for a year, but Fred’s definition of a year was a little bit different than that of most people.

“Would you like to start out with a salad?” a waiter said, disrupting my thoughts.

I glanced nervously at Will. I didn’t want to order a ten dollar salad when he was footing the bill, or when I assumed he was footing the bill. Will was prone to “forgetting” his wallet. To my surprise, Will nodded his head and turned towards the young waiter. “Yeah. Two please.”

The waiter made a mark on his small notepad and left Will and me at the table. We both stared at each other, a large vase of yellow flowers somewhat hindering my view of his handsome face. 

I felt a little awkward and nervously played with my necklace. This was the first time in the six months we were together that Will took me out to a formal dinner. Sure, we had some post-game dinners as McDonald’s or some early morning breakfasts at a nearby diner where I spent more time finishing Will’s history homework than staring lovingly into his eyes. I was wondering what the catch was. Why was Will treating me to an expensive dinner?