Making the Grade (The Model Spy #2)

Chapter 10 - The Clue at the Lion's Pub

My legs were still stiff as I joined Fred and Max on the sidewalk outside the airport. Crowds of people walked in and out of the doors, going on with their lives. While for me, everything seemed to be frozen still. A girl walking arm-in-arm with a young man laughed heartily and a slight twinge of envy shot through my body. The two of them didn’t have a care in the world.

I looked at Max, fumbling with his iPod, attempting to wrap the headphone wires without knotting them together. He wrapped them over and over, only to unravel them and begin again. I wasn’t a profiler like he was, despite his claims otherwise, but if I could guess I would say he was nervous too. If the nap he took the last hour was anything like mine, it wasn’t a restful sleep.

 As the wheels skid across the tarmac and the plane made its landing, the mission that awaited me hit me with the force of a speeding train. It would be like Paris: sleepless nights, endless stress, and prevalent danger at every turn. In a few hours, I would acquire a new identity and live a lie for a few weeks. It never bothered me before, but for some reason seeing that couple as they entered their waiting cab brought back all the negatives of the job.

 Two black cars pulled to the curb. The driver of the first car got out and, after nodding at Fred, took his luggage and loaded it into the trunk.

 Fred pulled Max and me to the side and handed us each a packet of papers.

 "Study these in the car,” he said, his voice low. “The drivers work with us,” he added when Max opened his mouth, his large eyes studying the driver of the second car who began loading luggage into the black SUV. “I am heading right to the school to meet Professor Scott. But I want you two to wander the town a bit. Get to know the locals and the students.”

 I clutched the folder to my chest as the driver opened the door to the SUV. Max motioned for me to slide in first. I pushed myself across the sticky leather seats. Max ducked his head low to keep it from hitting the ceiling. He was squashed sitting in the back, his knees pressed against the front seat.

  “Read up,” Fred said before slamming the door. “We will all meet again at 7:30 tonight.”

 “I don’t understand any of this,” I said, lurching forward as the driver sped off. I shuffled through the papers. “GCSEs? Sixth Form? I just graduated, I shouldn’t be going back to high school.”

 “Secondary school,” Max corrected, looking at his own papers. He was smiling.

 Smiling myself, I ignored him. “I graduated with honors and scored well on my SATs, thank you very much. Not to mention, no amount of money the CIA will be paying me is enough to relive the drama of high school all over again.” I cringed, thinking of Will.

 Max shifted in his seat and grimaced as he adjusted his long, lanky legs. “High school wasn’t kind to you either?”

 “I was always the new girl. Or the girl who disappeared all the time.” My eyes scanned my fake bio. Same first name: Laura. Only my last name differed slightly: Peterson. Well, being a student at a boarding school in England was nothing like being a model in Paris. It was much more low-key. I didn’t have to worry about my photo getting splashed on the cover of magazines. I didn’t have to worry about being recognized. “No one even knew my name until…” My voice trailed off.

 I was suddenly aware that Max had leaned closer to me. He was studying me, waiting for me to continue.

 “Until I dated Will Antalio.”

 “Ahh.” Max leaned back. He was in profiler mode again. “He was an athlete, immensely popular with great hair-”

 “Not nearly as good as yours,” I interjected sarcastically.