Listen Between the Lines - A Gallagher Girls Story

Chapter One

Chapter One

Some people seem like they're always in the right place at the right time.  It can seem that luck somehow favors them over everybody else.  Well that's me. Maggie Goode: Resident Luck Recipient.

Actually, Maggie isn't my real name.  That's just what everyone calls me.  I suppose, for the record, I should state my full name.  Morgan Ann Goode--and yes.  I'm their daughter.

By "their" I mean Agents Cameron and Zachary Goode, of course.  You've probably heard of them.  Living CIA legends, most powerful duo in the western hemisphere, or, as I know them, good ol' Mom and Dad.  But, if on the off chance you're one of the few members of the intelligence community that doesn't know who they are, I'll catch you up.  Short version: my parents are spies.  Good ones.  The kinds with lots of stories that even I can't know about until I reach a higher clearance level.  I'm a spy too--or, well, I will be.  Just as soon as I graduate from spy school.

I mean, technically speaking, the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women isn't strictly a school for spies.  As our professors frequently remind us, the Gallagher Academy specializes in the teaching of geniuses and we are free to do whatever we want with the specialized education we receive, but let's get real.  With classes like advanced encryption and history of espionage, what is a girl supposed to think?  Especially when that girl is the daughter of two exceptionally talented agents, like I am.

I'm actually a third-generation Gallagher Girl.  My grandma was CIA, then my mom was CIA, and so I don't really have much of a choice when it comes to my career path.  I have footsteps to follow.  Boots to fill.

But before I can be a hot-shot agent, I have to practice my overall agent-ness, and with that comes the paperwork.  Dad always says that it doesn't matter who you manage to escape from.  If you forget to do your paperwork afterwards, the secretaries at Langley will make you wish that you hadn't made it back.  That's why I'm writing this report--for the practice.  And also because the CIA may or may not have suggested it (and when the CIA suggests something, you don't say no).

The last time I saw my mom and dad was right around the time school started.  Because of the whole boarding school thing, I don't get to see my parents during the school year and because of the whole spy thing, I don't get to see them a lot during the summer either.  Especially since the CIA makes it a point to assign my parents on missions together because, well, they make a killer team--and I do mean that literally.

So, as a result, my older brother, Matt, and I spend the summers with our grandparents, which I know might sound pretty uneventful, but trust me.  It totally isn't.  Sure, there are a lot of the normal grandparent-y things like board games and Wheel of Fortune, but this past summer, Grandpa Joe showed me the basics of the Roosevelt knife throwing technique (that's Eleanor, not Franklin, by the way) and I just don't think that they do that in normal families.  If they did, more kids would probably be psyched about visiting their grandparents.

My family and I pride ourselves on how close we all are.  It's not an easy thing to accomplish in our business. Grandma and I are the closest though, because we spent the most time together.  I see her all summer and then we pack our bags and head back to school.  Oh yeah, my grandma's my headmistress.  And retired CIA, of course.  Almost all of the faculty at the Gallagher Academy is retired something--even the maintenance staff.

That particular evening, Grandma had invited everyone--including Mom and Dad--for dinner at the family safe house.

"Morgan Ann," Mom scolded from the kitchen table.  "Absolutely no archery in the house."

"It's fine.  Grandpa Joe did it," I told her without putting my bow down.

"Well Grandpa Joe knows the Persian method of release and you do not," Mom said in the tone of someone who feared for the well-being of all fragile objects in the room.