Also Known As (23 page)

“So did you have a lovely time?” Angelo asked.

“Did you get the files?” my dad asked.

“Was he nice to you? Did he open doors?” That was my mom, of course. I was pretty sure that if Jesse had been anything less than chivalrous, she would have hacked into his computer and deleted his entire hard drive, mission be damned.

“Jesse was nice. And yes, many doors were opened.” I left out the part where
I
was the one who had opened the Gramercy Park gate for
him
. “Can we just talk tomorrow? I’m tired.” I had never been less tired in my life, but I needed time to sort things out in my head.

“Of course,” Angelo said, even though both my parents were already opening their mouths to speak. “I think
we all know how exhausting it can be to go undercover for long periods of time, yes? Maggie needs her rest.”

“I’m a growing teenager,” I added. “You don’t want to stunt me.”

“Okay,” my mom said. “I want a sitrep bright and early tomorrow morning, though!”

I barely slept that night, tossing and turning and trying to figure out what Jesse had meant about his dad and the article. Was he not going to run it? What had changed his mind? If he still planned to run it, would it be delayed? I was so anxious that I spent the early-morning hours googling “Armand Oliver,” looking for any clues or signs. There were a few news stories, but otherwise it was the same stuff I had read earlier. The only weak link in Armand’s team, it turned out, was his son. I fell asleep in bed with my laptop open in front of me, which explained why I woke up at nearly noon with my face mashed into the left-hand side of the keyboard.

“What happened to you?” my dad asked when I stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and rubbing my cheek. “Did your computer slap you?”

“I was working late,” I mumbled. “The computer won.”

“Okay, we’re ready for you to report in. How was your date?” my mom asked. “Did you manage to get back into the Olivers’ house again? Did you find out if—”

“Mom, please,” I said, and I must have sounded crankier than usual because both of my parents looked at me. “Why does it always have to be an interrogation first thing in the morning?”

“Margaret,” my dad said.

Great.
Margaret
. That boded well.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just tired and I need to think.”

“So you
did
find out something,” my mom said. “What was it?”

I sat down at the counter and fiddled with the edge of a manila envelope. “I asked Jesse about his dad, and he said that he wasn’t sure if his dad was going to run the article.”

“
You told him about the article?
” both of my parents exploded.

“
Of course not!
” I exploded right back. (If you learn nothing else from me, learn this: falling asleep on your computer’s keyboard can make you really, really cranky.) “How dumb do you think I am? I was just asking him about his family, and he said his dad’s been really upset about this one article getting away.”

My parents deflated a little. “Oh, so he didn’t say that it was
the
article,” my dad said.

“No, but I think it might be. Jesse said it was some big secret about spies, but that a deal had fallen through and his dad was really pissed off.”

My mom still looked suspicious. “You like him,” she finally said.

“Armand?”

“Jesse.”

Busted
.

“Well, it’s kind of hard not to,” I admitted. “He’s really nice, he’s kind, he holds doors open, and he helps little kids who fall down ice skating.”

My mom took a deep breath. “Sweetheart,” she said.
“Do you have any proof that Armand might not run the article?”

“Just what Jesse said,” I admitted. “But I believe him. He’s told me lots of things before, personal things about his family.”

“Did
you
tell him anything?”

“What? No! Of course not! We were just sitting at the park last night and—”

“Which park?” Now my dad had joined the discussion, and both of my parents were leaning in, like they were about to ensnare me.

“Gramercy. Why, what—?”

“You went to Gramercy Park by yourself at night?” my mom cried. “Are you serious right now? Where was your driver? I
knew
we should have talked last night!”

“I had to ditch him. It was too obvious!” I continued as both of my parents’ tempers seemed to erupt out of the top of their heads. “It was making Jesse feel uncomfortable! And what’s the big deal about Gramercy Park? I’ve been there a million times with Angelo!”

“With Angelo, yes!” my dad said. “Not by yourself! Do you realize how dangerous that can be?”

“To be inside a locked park at night in one of the safest neighborhoods in Manhattan? No, I didn’t realize I was in mortal peril.”

My mom was pacing again. “This was a bad idea!” She was ranting, but I didn’t know if she was talking to me or to my dad. “I told you, didn’t I? I said, she’s too young, she’s not ready!”

“Just calm down,” my dad said.

“Will someone please explain to me what’s going on here?” I yelled back. “Why are we mad all of a sudden?”

“Maggie, please,” my dad said. “Just sit down.”

“I
am
sitting! Mom’s the one who’s standing!”

“You broke into the park, didn’t you?” my mom said. “Did Jesse see you?”

“I made him turn around,” I admitted. “But he didn’t care, he thought it was cool.”

My mom looked at my dad. “He thought it was cool,” she repeated.

“I just meant that he didn’t think it was a big deal!”

“How do you know that Jesse isn’t just feeding you information?” my dad asked. “To throw you off? Or that Armand isn’t giving him the wrong information so that Jesse won’t ruin the deal?”

“What, so you’re saying that Jesse works for his dad now? That’s crazy!”

“Well, you work for us,” my mom said.

“I don’t work for
you
!” I shot back. “I work for the Collective! And if you’d listen to what I’m telling you, you’d know that I was trying to do my job! For the Collective!”

All three of us were standing now, each in a different spot in the kitchen, a literal standoff.

“I mean,” I continued, “my whole job is to like Jesse Oliver, right? That was the assignment, if memory serves.”

“Your job is to
pretend
to like him,” my mom told me. “And to stop this article from running.”

“Don’t you think it’s sort of weird to
pretend
to like
someone?” I said. “And sneaky? And maybe not very emotionally healthy?”

“That’s the job, kiddo,” my dad said. “We’re not here to make real friends.”

I don’t know if it was the lack of sleep, the lack of caffeine, or the fact that the
Q, A
, and
Z
keys were now deeply imprinted on my cheek, but that comment pushed me over the edge. “Exactly,” I said. “I’m not here to make friends. And that’s the problem. How come I don’t get to make any friends? How come I don’t get to go to a normal school or Halloween parties? How come you just decided all this for me?”

“Because you have a gift!” my mom said. “It’s more than a gift. You have this amazing, one-of-a-kind ability to open locks and safes, and you can use that ability to right wrongs in the world!”

“What if I don’t want to?”

That stopped the room. Even the clock on the wall seemed to stop ticking. “What do you mean, you don’t want to?” my dad said. “This is all you’ve talked about since you were four!”

“I’m not four anymore! Have you noticed? I’m almost seventeen, I’m almost an adult. Why don’t I get to make decisions about my life? What’s so wrong with my making a friend? Or worse, dating a boy? I also wanted to be a veterinarian and a cowgirl when I was four, but things change. Maybe
I’ve
changed, did you ever think of that?”

“You were born into this,” my mom said. “That’s life. You don’t always get to choose your options.”

“This isn’t the royal family!” I protested. “It’s not some blood lineage! This is crazier than the royal family, and
that
is saying something!”

“So, what?” my dad asked. “You don’t want to do this anymore? You’re done?”

“What if I am? Is that all you like about me, the fact that I can open locks and safes? Is that really all there is? You know, I’ll say this for Jesse. He has no idea what I can do and he doesn’t care. He
still
likes me.”

“Do you think he would still like you if he knew what you were doing?” My mom’s voice wasn’t angry anymore, just resigned. “Honey, look. Your dad and I love you very, very much. We would love you even if you sat and watched television all day. But this is our job. This is our family. This is what we do. And you don’t get to just throw all that away because you got an assignment to like a boy.”

“But how can you expect me to make a choice about my life, my future, when I know only one option? All I know is this job. Yeah, I’m good at safecracking, but what if I’m better at being a normal person? What if it makes me happier?”

Neither of my parents said anything.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I sighed. “This is just a job. It’s my life, but it’s all about the job for you. I get it now.”

“Maggie …”

But I turned on my heel and walked away from my dad’s voice. “Just let her go,” I heard my mom say. And she was right. I needed time to think.

I found my phone and dialed Angelo’s number, waiting
for him to pick up. Four rings later, I heard, “Hello, you’ve reached my mobile. I apologize for not being able to answer at the present time….”

“Damn it,” I said, hanging up. That was Angelo’s “I’m out on a job” message, not his normal away message. I had no idea if he was in Cincinnati or Zaire and even less of an idea about when he’d be returning.

I knew I was right, though. I
knew
it. Angelo used to always talk about instincts, about following them to see where they led. “People lie,” he said, “but instincts do not.” I knew my instincts were kicking in about Armand killing the story, and it wasn’t just because I liked Jesse, even though that’s what my parents thought.

I started to think about everything that Angelo had told me.
Listen. Be beige. Never look back. There is always a choice
.

By that night, I had something better than a choice.

I had a friend.

Chapter 27

I came out of my room around six that night, waving my “for civilian use only” cell phone. “Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” my mom said. “Your dad and I were talking and we just think we need to talk about this more. As a family.”

But talking hadn’t gotten me very far. I was ready—very ready—to start doing.

“Can we talk later? Roux just called.”

“Roux,” my dad said. “The ‘idiotic’ Roux?”

He was trying to make me smile, but I wasn’t in the mood. I was still smarting from our argument, from the idea that I might not be what my parents wanted me to be. Would they still love me, or even like me, if I left the Collective?

Was I even
allowed
to leave?

“Yeah, it was Roux,” I said, ignoring his joke. “She just broke up with this guy she met at the Halloween party. She wants me to come over.”

“Right now? We were going to order Chinese.”

My parents were obviously tiptoeing around me. It was
bizarre
.

“Can I go see Roux instead? She wants me to spend the night.”

“Spend the night?”

I sighed the longest, most world-weary sigh in the world. “Yes. That’s what girls do. They have sleepovers. Or am I not allowed to do that now?” My lying skills had improved. God knows I had had enough practice.

“What about school?”

“I’ll just go with her tomorrow. Look,” I added when my parents didn’t say anything. “I know I’m not supposed to make friends. But if Roux starts to think that something’s up with our so-called friendship, then she’s going to be a nightmare to deal with and it’s going to mess up everything at school. Trust me, there are serious girl politics going on here. And I told her I’d come over.”

My parents looked at one another. “It can’t hurt,” my dad finally said, just as I knew he would. He was always the pushover. “It’s just one night.”

“Will you get enough sleep? You’ve had a long day and you were out late.” I let my mom come close enough to brush some hair out of my eyes. “You look tired.”

Which is, of course, the least helpful thing to say to someone who’s tired, but I let it go. “I don’t know. It depends on how upset Roux is. She’ll probably cry until about midnight or so.” Roux would have pitched a fit if she could hear how I was describing her. “She’s on hold right now, I told her I’d ask you.”

“Just for tonight,” my mom said. “School tomorrow, you come home, we talk in the afternoon. Deal?”

“Deal,” I said, then turned around and spoke to the nonexistent person on the other end of the phone. “Roux? Yeah, it’s cool. I’ll be there soon…. Okay, okay, bye.”

My mom came into my room as I was finishing up packing. “Honey?”

“What?” I shoved a sweater into my bag, then packed a clean uniform.

“Your dad and I were talking earlier, and we were saying how hard it is to be a spy, but how much harder it is to raise one.” She smiled a little. “We’re learning here.”

“Why don’t you just trust me, then?” I asked. The day suddenly felt a hundred hours long. “Why can’t you just say, ‘Okay, Maggie, we believe in you. Go forth and do your job.’”

“Because when you do this job, it’s hard to not have your judgment clouded, especially on your first solo assignment.”

“And you think Jesse is a cloud.”

“I think …” My mom was choosing her words carefully, I could tell. “I think that you want to protect him from whatever his father might do, even if you don’t realize that.”

She was right.

“You’re wrong,” I said. “I don’t think his dad’s going to run the article.”

“That may be true, but that’s not your decision to make. It’s the Collective’s.”

“What if they’re wrong?”

My mom shrugged. “Then they’ll deal with the consequences.”