Well, as a spy (not to mentiona girl), there are many, many sentences that will make me stop and listen, and,needless to say, "Cammie doesn't know anything" is totally one ofthem!

I leaned closer to the door while,beside me, Macey's big blue eyes got even wider. She leaned in and whispered,'What don't you know?"

"She didn't suspectanything?" Mr. Solomon, my dreamy CoveOps instructor, asked.

"What didn't you suspect?" asked Macey.

Well, of course the whole pointof not knowing and not suspecting is that I neither knew nor suspected,but I couldn't point that out because, at the moment, my mother was on theopposite side of the door saying, "No, she was being debriefed at thetime."

I thought back to the long, quietride from D.C., the way my mother had stared at the frosty countryside as she'dtold me that she hadn't watched my interrogation—that she'd had things to do.

"We can't tell her,Joe," Mom said. "We can't tell anyone. Not until we have to."

"Not about blackthorn?"

"Not aboutanything." And then Mom sighed. "I just want things to stay as normalas possible for as long as possible."

I looked at Macey. Normal hadjust taken on a whole new meaning.

After they left, Macey and Islipped back to the Grand Hall and the sophomore table. Mom had already takenher place at the front of the room. I know that Liz whispered, "What tookyou so long?" as we sat down. But beyond that, I wasn't sure of anything,because, to tell you the truth, I was having a little trouble hearing. Andtalking. And walking.

All moms have secrets—mine more than most—and even though I've always knownthat there are lots of things my mother can never tell me, it had neveroccurred to me that there were things she might be keeping from me. Itmay not sound like a big difference, but it is.

Mom gripped the podium infront of her and looked out at the hundred girls who sat ready for a newsemester. "Welcome back, everyone. I hope you had a wonderful winterbreak," she said.