Listen Between the Lines - A Gallagher Girls Story

Chapter Seventeen

To say that the next two weeks were hectic would be a massive understatement. First of all, our professors had all decided to give out huge tests at the same time. I mean, in years past it hadn't been such a big deal, but this year I had CoveOps. I had to take on extra training and add on time to my nightly workout and, not to mention, we never knew when Woods would take us outside the gates again. She wasn't a big fan of the two weeks notice rule—or any kind of notice, for that matter. I couldn't help thinking that Madame Baudin would not approve.

Plus, the boys had slowly started to join us for some of our classes outside of CoveOps. One day they might come for P&E and another, they might stop by for COW. Will and Bill were the only sophomores in the exchange, so it didn't seem like too much of a shift. It was the junior and senior classes that would really have it bad.

"Culture class?" Bill said on the day that I was supposed to escourt them to C&A. "Did she say that she was takin' us to culture class?"

"I believe that's what she said," Will confirmed.

"I'm a spy, Cap. Not the king of Spain," he argued, the whole thing apparently too ridiculous for him to tolerate.

"But as a spy, you may meet the king of Spain," I told him. "And if you happen to be undercover as a Spanish duke, it might be helpful to be able to speak with a proper Spanish accent and know which fork you're supposed to use for your salad."

Bill let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "How much harm could possibly come from usin' the wrong fork?"

"You could be beheaded," Will said with a shrug.

"Actually, I don't think Spain does beheadings anymore," I told them both.

Will just shrugged again. "Not publicly."

"The point is," I interrupted before we could get too far off topic. "Culture and Assimilation isn't just balancing books on your head and setting placemats. It's the difference between life and death. A successful op and a failed one."

"Having a head and not having a head," Will provided.

"In some parts of the world, yeah," I agreed, but I made sure to add, "but not Spain."

"How 'bout we just list Spain as a firm 'maybe' when it comes to beheadin' and agree not to go pissin' anyone off in that part of the world?" Bill suggested.

"Deal," Will and I both said with a nod.

We came up on the C&A classroom and I led the boys through the tunnels. Since they were a big secret and all, the boys couldn't exactly wander around through the main hallways during the day, so we used secret passage ways to get to class. Thankfully, the Gallagher mansion had old servants' passages that lead to almost every room.

One of those passages led us into Madame Baudin's tea room where C&A was held. There's no hiding the fact that this room is different from the rest of the mansion. It has ornate ceiling fixtures and windows that stretch all the way up the wall, covered with thick, velvet curtains. Sometimes when I walked into the room I caught myself wondering if I was in the same building. Maybe I'd even stepped back in time to have cake with Marie Antoinette herself.

"Ahh, Morgan dear. I'm so glad you could join us," Madame Baudin greeted through her thick French accent. "Please. You and your friends find your seats."

Except Madame Baudin wasn't referring to our usual seats at the rear or the classroom. Her arm was outstretched towards a long glass table set for... well. Set for a king. "Today we dine with the king of Spain."

Next to me, Bill hung his head and Will let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

There were tons of things to cover in C&A before a girl graduated. Everything from appropriate desserts for a black-tie gala, to poisonous bouquet inspection, to the six different ways that a ball gown can be used to assist someone in defusing a bomb. But, as Madame Baudin always says, people do not bond over high heels and empty dance floors. They bond over food. Therefore, it was important to understand how meals worked across the world. You know what they say. The quickest way to a nuclear arms dealer's heart is through their stomach.