Page 85 of Perfect Cover

I hadn’t known that not keeping me was even an option. It was a testament to how far I’d come in the past coupleof days that I somehow found the idea of not being on the Squad anymore incredibly aversive.

“We’ve analyzed the information that you confiscated from Heath Shannon,” the Voice continued, and I tried not to think of what exactly that “confiscation” had entailed. “And we’ve reassigned our operatives accordingly. Any information Peyton got from these hacks is now obsolete.”

We’d stopped the metaphorical sickness from spreading. We’d assessed the damage, and we’d treated the symptoms. To put it in cheerleading terms, we’d gone, we’d fought, and we’d won. And because I’d had the words to our cheers and chants burned into my cranial region by that blasted iPod, I knew for a fact that after the Bayport Lions made big with the go-fight-win, the first thing we did was do it again.

And now for the words I never thought I’d say: Go Bayport.

“As always, girls, we’ll be in touch.” The Voice paused slightly, and I waited for another cryptic announcement. “Good luck with your game.”

And then, there was silence.

So that’s it. My first mission. I broke a code that sent Brooke and Zee into the line of fire (literally) in Libya. I hacked Infotech’s secured system, acquired their files, destroyed their system, and helped the guys upstairs safeguard their system against future attacks. With Lucy’s help, I took down a freelance heartthrob/operative and retrieved the stolen data. I seduced the school’s most eligible bachelor, infiltrated an evil law firm, and bugged it like a pro. I found out that one of our superiors was more than he appeared, and I wore hideouslyuncomfortable boots and indecently short skirts. I got Stage Sixed, became one ofthose girls,photocopied my butt, and partook in what, in all honesty, was my very first kiss. And then I punched the guy and ran.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad showing, except, perhaps, for the last part.

As the ten of us left the Quad and filed out onto the football field, I found myself at the center of conversation. The twins combined their dating expertise to conclude (in the absence of any knowledge about the kiss) that I was sending Jack mixed signals. Thank you, Captain Obvious. Zee, after dissecting Jack’s psyche a bit more, told me that, if anything, I’d increase my chances with him by playing the intrigue card.

I tried to tell them that I wanted nothing to do with him, but for some strange reason, nobody believed me. I also couldn’t convince them to change the topic of conversation, even as we took our positions on the sidelines. We’d safeguarded national security and captured a playboy who’d ratted out terrorists, our Squad captain now owed her life to a bulletproof push-up bra, and the first football game of the year was officially starting, but somehow, my alleged love life wasstillthe topic of conversation.

That’s pretty much how my first mission concluded. I still didn’t know anything about Jack’s uncle, or about why the CIA needed cheerleaders to infiltrate Peyton, Kaufman, and Gray when Peyton blood ran in one of their own. I didn’t know what “Uncle Alan” wanted with Jack. I didn’t even know whatIwanted with Jack.

That’salmosthow my first mission ended, anyway. There was one other tiny thing.

“You ready for this, Toby?” Brooke asked me an hour later, in a tone that suggested I probably wasn’t.

I’d just spent a record amount of time on the sidelines, cheering and chanting with a huge, fake smile on my face, and she was still doubting me.

“Brooke, it’s a halftime routine. It’s not rocket science.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

“And now, for your pleasure, the nationally recognized heart of Bayport—the Bayport High Varsity Spirit Squad!”

The announcer’s voice rumbled out of the loudspeakers, and the crowd burst into applause, hoots, and hollers (in that order).

We took our positions on the field. I ignored the way my cheerleading skirt rubbed uncomfortably against my legs. I thought about my last mission and my next one and the importance of never letting anyone see more than you wanted them to see.

I smiled.

“Ready? Okay!”

“B to the A to the Y to the Port …”

It was official: there was no turning back.

If you’d told me at the beginning of my sophomore year that I was going to become a government operative, I would have thought you were crazy, but if you’d told me I was destined to become a cheerleader, I would have had you committed, no questions asked. Then again, if you’d told me right after our halftime performance that our second mission would be more lethal, more scandalous, and more filled with kisses than the first, I wouldn’t have believed you.

It just goes to show how wrong I can be, because as Icheered, my smile forcing the world to view me as nothing more than a girl in a skirt, the beginnings of my second mission, more dangerous than I could have imagined, were already headed my way.

“Go, fight, win! We’ll beat you again. BAYPORT!”