Going Rogue (29 page)
Ames looked tortured, and he let go of Roux’s hand long enough to rest his hands on either side of her face. “Babe,” he said gently. “You think I’m not going to see you again? You have to go back to New York with them.”
Roux’s lower lip was trembling and Ames stroked her hair off her forehead, as gentle as always with her. “It’ll be fine,” he whispered. “I’ll come visit. We just need to let things calm down. Wait for the waters to calm a little.”
“But it’s not the same,” she whimpered, reaching up to wipe her eyes. “I don’t want to be sad anymore.”
“Things are different now,” Ames told her. “It’s a big world, darlin’, and we’ve got a lot of time. We’ve already cheated death once today, yeah?” He smiled at her, making her smile back. “These lads love you and they’ll look out for you.”
“Yeah, Roux,” Jesse said, and my heart swelled with affection for him. “New York won’t be so bad this year. You’ll see.”
“Stop trying to be nice to me.” Roux sniffled, but she smiled when she said it. “Promise me you’ll visit,” she said to Ames.
In response, he bent down and kissed her. All of us looked away, as if it were a private moment that we shouldn’t be witnessing. “As if I want to be anywhere else except where you are,” Ames whispered. “Now go. Don’t miss your flight.”
Roux nodded, kissing him again. I recognized the desperation in her, the need to hang on to a love that was all hers, and when she finally stepped away, I held out my hand to her. “C’mon,” I said gently. “The car’s waiting.”
Roux took my hand as she let go of Ames’s with the other, her eyes sad but resigned. “See you soon,” she said, giving them all a small wave, and Ames’s eyes sparkled once more as we climbed out of the tunnel and back into the world.
Only this time, they sparkled with tears.
We took a private plane out of DeGaulle. I didn’t know where it came from, since clearly it didn’t belong to the Collective, but Angelo arranged it and I didn’t feel like asking any more questions. My brain was already on overload, and I was afraid of what would happen if I got any more new information.
Zelda was our flight attendant, only this time she absolutely refused to give Roux any champagne. “But I’m eighteen now!” she protested.
“It’s an American-bound flight. Twenty-one to party.”
“But I’m brokenhearted and emotional!”
“So is everyone,” Zelda replied coolly, then handed her a Coke instead.
“Woo.” Roux sulked, but she popped it open anyway.
Once we were airborne, my parents fell asleep in the back of the plane, tumbled into each other. “Poor guys,” I said to Jesse, from where I was slumped against his chest. “They’re not young anymore.”
“They’re still pretty badass, though,” Jesse said. “I guess even badasses need sleep.”
“Good point.”
I glanced up at the front of the plane, where Angelo was discussing something with the pilot, then back at my parents. “They’re kind of like us,” I said as I realized. “A little group of three, kicking ass and taking names.”
“Not a bad legacy,” Jesse murmured against my hair.
“You guys?” Roux asked. She was leaning heavily against Jesse’s other side, a rare quiet moment between them, and he moved his arm to put it around her shoulders. “How did you know you were in love?”
I looked at Jesse. He looked at me. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just was. He made me laugh and he made me happy.”
“It was probably her lying, seducing ways,” Jesse said. “I’m kidding, don’t hurt me!”
“Oh, you love it,” I said. “Do you think you love Ames, Roux?”
“I don’t think it,” she replied as her eyes fluttered shut. “I know it.”
“I guess it is that easy,” I said to Jesse. “You just know. There’s not a lot of explanation.”
“Mags?”
“Hmm?”
“More sleeping, okay?” Jesse yawned loudly, and I grinned and curled up next to him. He and Roux were asleep within minutes, but even though I tried to close my eyes and match my breathing to his, I didn’t feel like sleeping.
I still had some things to figure out.
I carefully moved away from Jesse, throwing a blanket over him and Roux before creeping toward the front of the plane. Angelo was sitting there with a scotch in front of him,
El País
open to the international section. “Well, hello,” he said when he saw me. “Can’t sleep?”
I shook my head and crawled into the seat across from him. “Do you want something to drink?” he asked. “Nonalcoholic, of course.”
“No, thank you,” I said. “Did you really turn in the Collective?”
Angelo took a deep breath and folded his newspaper shut. “I did,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it. I didn’t want to put you at risk in case it fell apart.”
“Was it difficult, though? I mean, we’ve been around for almost a hundred years.”
“Your mother was able to delete all the innocent files, so no, it wasn’t difficult. It’s terrible when something you love becomes a shell of its former self. Sometimes it’s better to dismantle it before it gets destroyed. And what usually arises from ash?”
“A phoenix,” I replied.
“Exactly.” He smiled at me, then raised his glass to me. “Excellent work today, my darling. You make us all very proud. I look forward to our next project together.”
I nodded. “Me, too. Angelo?”
“Yes, my love?”
“Élodie said something to me about the work they do. She said, ‘If it’s already been created, it must be possible to re-create.’”
Angelo merely raised an eyebrow. “An interesting thought. What do you think about that?”
I thought for a long minute before replying. “I think I’m excited to meet the phoenix.”
Angelo smiled at me, and I smiled back as we sailed home through the sky.
As always, thank you to my wonderful family for loving me, cheering me on, and making everything in my life more delightful than it has any right to be.
There’s no limit to the amount of times I can say thank you to my agent, Lisa Grubka at Fletcher & Company. Thank you for taking the wheel and steering the car. (Is that too many car metaphors?)
Writing a book can be a difficult thing at times, so I’m fortunate to have lovely friends, fellow writers, and an excellent support crew who always say nice things at the right time: Adriana Fusaro, for the (gulp!) twenty-seven years of friendship; Maret Orliss and Johanna Clark, for being the loveliest village I could ever hope to have; Steve Bramucci, for the guac & talk; Megan Miranda and Yelena Black, for the 5:00 a.m. hotel lobby coffee; Nora Ray, for the grand crazy; Morgan Matson and Lauren Strasnick, for the Hollywood hikes; Dan Smetanka, for the Toast; Stephanie Perkins, for the epic phone conversations; and Amy Spalding, for sharing my affinity for caps lock.
A massive dose of gratitude to the phenomenal team at Bloomsbury and Walker: Emily Easton, Laura Whitaker, Patricia McHugh, Cristina Gilbert, Katy Hershberger, Bridget Hartzler, Erica Barmash, Emily Ritter, Beth Eller, and Nicole Gastonguay. You are all delightful.
Thank you to my foreign publishers who work so tirelessly on my behalf: Caspian Dennis at Abner Stein; Jane Griffiths and Kat McKenna at Simon & Schuster UK; Femke Geurts at De Fontein; and Céline Charvet at éditions Nathan. Thank you also to my foreign rights agent, Rachel Hecht at Foundry Literary + Media; and my film agent, Stephen Moore at Paul Kohner, Inc.
To the fans, bloggers, librarians, teachers, and booksellers who support and champion my books every day, you have my endless appreciation. Writing books is fun, but having people read them is even better, and I thank you for reading mine.
Also Known As
Copyright © 2014 by Robin Benway
All rights reserved.
You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. For information, write to Bloomsbury USA, 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018.
First published in the United States of America in January 2014
by Walker Books for Young Readers, an imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing, Inc.
This electronic edition published in January 2014
www.bloomsbury.com
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Walker BFYR, 1385 Broadway, New York, New York 10018
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Benway, Robin.
Going rogue : an Also Known As novel / Robin Benway.
pages cm
Summary: When sixteen-year-old Maggie Silver’s parents are falsely accused of
stealing priceless gold coins, she must use her safecracking skills to try to clear
their names, with help from the “new team” she has formed as an undercover
operative in a New York City high school.
ISBN 978-0-8027-3604-8 (hardcover) • ISBN 978-0-8027-3605-5 (e-book)
[1. Spies—Fiction. 2. High schools—Fiction. 3. Schools—Fiction. 4. Adventure
and adventures—Fiction. 5. New York (N.Y.)—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.B4477Goi 2014 [Fic]—dc23 2013024934
ISBN: 978-0-80273-605-5 (e-book)
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