Protocol: Chameleon

f i v e

So, on one fine, peaceful Sunday afternoon in eighth grade I'd heard that the world was going to end.

But, of course, I didn't really believe in such a notion.

Until now.

Throughout my years in the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women, there had been many gossips that circulated the school. And those gossips travel fast. We are, after all, girls.

The amusing gossips
-The time when we thought Dr Smith was going to come back to the Grand Hall after one summer, as a woman. A tall woman, with a lean body, and a contorted face.

Then there are the exaggerated gossips (usually commenced by none other than Tina Walters herself)
- In freshman year when someone said Professor Buckingham had lost her legs in a bullfight somewhere in Mexico. Turns out, she just had to undergo a minor hip surgery.

But there are those shocking gossips -the ones that I fear might turn out true. In seventh grade when we'd heard that we were going to sit for examinations every day, here at the Academy. The time when I'd just entered school and found out that my father, Matthew Morgan, was declared missing. But, honestly, what I found most shocking was the fact that no girl (not even Tina Walters) had thought about there being a possibility of a boy spy school. A brotherhood.

So perhaps that was the reason most of the Gallagher Girls were seated in the Grand Hall that day, speechless. It takes a lot to make a girl, much less a spy girl, speechless. But as my roommates and I sat at our sophomore table for lunch, I couldn't help but ponder on why I had been so ... oblivious. Surely, there must have been a school that junior Mr Solomon went to, or an institution where my own father had trained all his life for.

The language we were supposed to speak that afternoon was French -according to the bright red letters on the digital screen above the double doors. But when Liz turn to me and whispered, "I can't believe we didn't see this coming!", no one seemed to protest, probably because we were all nodding meekly. The tension in the hall could be cut with a knife, and I was beginning to squirm in my seat feeling uncomfortable. The discomfort could also be because of the fact that the empty tables besides the seniors, would be not be vacant for very long. But no one dared to utter who exactly were to occupy the tables very soon.

The absence of all the teachers and ... boys was probably getting too much for Courtney. Because next thing I know, she was leaning over Macey and a very startled Liz, blurting,

"You must have known something about this, right?"

Now, I'm not a very violent person. Although that may sound ironic coming from a girl who has accidentally assaulted every one of her roommates and beat up a girl in PE once for mocking her father. The last one though, was purely intentional.

But at that moment I couldn't deny my strong desire to tip Courtney over the Leaning Tower of Pisa and make it look like an accident.

I sighed before turning to her, seeing the hope in her eyes. "No, Courtney."

Liz shot me a look in my direction. I in turn, looked at Macey and Bex. It is probably ingrained in our DNA that we will not be satisfied with the surprise we were completely taken aback by. 

"You think you can figure it out?" I asked her, worriedly. 

"C'mon, Cammie," Liz rolled her eyes playfully. "Who're you talking to?"

Bex and Macey smiled ear to ear. "Let the girl do her thing," Macey winked.

With that said, Liz settled in her purple comforter and surfed her Macbook Pro.