Double Cross

by Beth McMullen

  We will not get credit for saving the integrity of the Challenge or neutralizing the Ghost, and I know better than to ask for it. I try to quiet my mind as I cross campus, but there’s a lot to think about. For starters, how do I pay back Iceman? She’s unhappy the Cookie app will not be forthcoming, and I really don’t want her mad at me. And what happened to Baldy and Jane Ann? My mother mentioned an island off Alaska but did not offer details. But all that will have to wait until after my date with destiny, or Mrs. Smith, as it were.

  Just as I’m about to pull open the doors to Main Hall, Owen Elliott races up, breathless. I haven’t seen him much since we got back. He’s avoiding me, and I’m unsure how that makes me feel.

  “Abby,” he gasps. “I’m glad I caught you. Is this the Mrs. Smith meeting?” Everyone on campus is waiting to see what will happen. The daughter of the former headmaster is in serious trouble. They don’t know the details, of course, but they smell blood in the water. Boarding school can be boring. We latch on to whatever drama we can.

  “Yeah,” I say, belying my pounding heart. “No big deal.” But it is. I don’t want Smith to be over for me. I’m not ready.

  “I just wanted to wish you good luck,” Owen Elliott says, a bloom of heat rising on his cheeks, “and to say that I really hope it . . . um . . . works out and stuff. And if you end up, you know, staying, we can be, well, friends.” He runs his fingers through his hair, stalling. “What I mean is I like you, but I can’t, you know, like you. You’re too . . . complicated . . . and a little dangerous . . . and kind of scary. . . .”

  I hold up a hand for him to stop. Message received. Oddly, my heart slows to normal. If someone is going to like me, they have to like all the parts, the sharp points, the rough edges, the smooth lines, because I’m not changing those. Besides, I never claimed to be ordinary. “You don’t have to explain,” I say. “I gotta go.”

  I feel his eyes on me as I walk toward Mrs. Smith’s office, but I don’t look back. The headmaster waits outside her door, ushering me in without a word. I keep my face neutral. My uniform is wrinkled beyond hope, the horrible red tie hanging limp around my neck.

  “Abigail,” Mrs. Smith says, closing the door. “Why do we keep finding ourselves in this situation?” When I begin to sputter a reply, she cuts me off. “The answer is you are allergic to rules. You cannot follow them. You think they don’t apply to you.”

  That’s not true. It’s just that sometimes they get in the way.

  “To make matters worse,” she continues, “the mediocre Taft team won the Challenge. And you know how I feel about them. I’m not happy. Poppy was meant to win, but you were too busy leading her on a wild-goose chase across the Pacific Ocean. That girl is going places. You’d be wise to pay attention.”

  I anticipated a lot of this, but corrupting Poppy was not even on the radar. The words I’m sorry sit on the tip of my tongue but refuse to budge. I just can’t spit them out. Because I guess I’m not really sorry.

  Mrs. Smith studies a portrait of the fourth headmaster, James Smith III, that hangs on the wall. She stares at him for a long time. My wool skirt is so itchy I want to scream, but I remain completely still. There is no way I’ll give her the pleasure of anxious fidgeting.

  “While I recommended immediate expulsion,” she says, without looking at me, “others have intervened on your behalf. It seems your stunt cut the Ghost off at the knees.” Was Tinker Bell long gone with all of the Ghost’s secrets by the time the Center showed up in Hawaii? No one has mentioned her, so I haven’t either. I just don’t see it helping my situation.

  I hold my breath, waiting for my punishment to come down from on high. I bet I’m looking at kitchen duty for the rest of my life. I’ll be up to my elbows in burned macaroni and cheese until I’m one hundred years old.

  Mrs. Smith clears her throat, turns her gaze in my direction. “Instead,” she says, “the Center has decided to admit you into the spy training program.”

  Did she just say what I think she said? My head almost explodes. My ears ring. “Can you say that again, please?”

  She grits her teeth as if the words taste foul. “Spy program. Here. You.”

  My vision blurs. I might faint. I am exceptional enough! “Yes!” I blurt. “We’re in! We’re in!”

  Mrs. Smith gives me an icy smile, and that’s when I know my glory will be fleeting, that her revenge will be something much worse than burned macaroni and cheese.

  “We? Oh, my dear, I think you misunderstand me. You will be part of a team with Poppy Parsons. Just the two of you. None of the others. Sorry.”

  She watches me like a hawk as my insides drop. This was her plan: to put me in an impossible situation and force my hand. But how bad would it be? Me and Poppy? I mean, we managed pretty well in Hawaii. She’s completely annoying, of course, but our strengths are complementary. It could work.

  But an image of the Ghost floats up in my memory. He said I could join his band of evil doers and get the glory. But I don’t want glory. Somewhere along the way spy school became an end unto itself. I forgot the reason I wanted it in the first place, and that is to make a better world. And there is more than one way to do that: just ask Gemma and Emma Glass. My heart steels itself for what I have to do next.

  “Thank you for the offer,” I say politely. “I appreciate the opportunity. But I already have a team. Izumi, Charlotte, and Toby? They are the best part of my life. So while I know I could do amazing things for the Center—I have, after all, saved the world a few times already—I decline the offer.”

  The words stick in my throat. Tears well in my eyes. Mrs. Smith smiles slowly, coldly.

  “I suppose I will have to find Poppy a different, more willing partner,” she says. “How unfortunate.”

  But is it? I have friends who get my jokes, who prop me up when I need it. I have friends who listen and laugh and understand me. My mother is right. I am loyal, determined, and fearless, and I do not quit. Especially when things get tough. That’s what makes me exceptional. I know that now, and I would not trade it, or them, for anything in the world. There will be another chance, another opportunity, and when it rolls around, we will be ready.

  I’m not unfortunate. I might just be the luckiest girl in the world.

  Izumi, Charlotte, and Toby wait in the hallway, nervously pacing the shiny wooden floor.

  “What happened?” Izumi whispers.

  “Did she, you know, kick you out?” asks Toby, forehead wrinkled.

  “Nah,” I say. “She just lectured me. Are we surprised?”

  My friends collectively exhale. “I’m so relieved,” says Charlotte. “I really thought this might be it.”

  “No way,” I say. “You guys are stuck with me.”

  We loop arms and head toward the Annex, chattering about cheese fries and how Toby got a weird message from Iceman, something about paying a debt. Uh-oh. Before I can explain, my phone rings. Jennifer. The last time I saw her she was rolling her eyes while Mrs. Smith yelled at her. “Well, that was certainly an exciting trip,” she begins. “I was glad to be back on land. Alas, it did not last.” In the background is boisterous singing.

  “Are you back with the pirates?” I ask.

  “Let’s just say we had some unfinished business. I’m hoping it goes quickly. I’m not a big fan of the ocean.” The sound of smashing glass interrupts, and Jennifer starts yelling in a language that might be pirate.

  Suddenly, my chest seizes with the desire to tell her everything about Mrs. Smith, about how spy school is never going to happen for me, how I let her down. But my friends can’t know the truth. I quickly swallow down the urge.

  “That’s nice,” I squeak.

  “Abigail,” she says. “Now listen carefully. I know what just happened, and I know you probably can’t talk about it.” Seriously. How does she do that? “But I’m proud of you for so many things—for making the right choice, for not abandoning your friends, for being brave when you didn’t have to be.”

 
; “But I . . .”

  “No ‘buts.’ Everything is excellent. Well, except the pirates. They are still a pain. Anyway, I have an idea that I floated to the bosses back in Washington. They seemed to like it. I call it Spy School 2.0. What do you think?”

  What do I think? I turn to my friends, who are watching me intently.

  And I smile.

  Acknowledgments

  Writing a series is like hanging out with a best friend who sometimes totally gets on your nerves. It’s been several months since I finished Double Cross, and I miss those kids, but I’m glad they are out there somewhere, always.

  As always, a big thank-you to Leigh Feldman of Leigh Feldman Literary for guiding me through the choppy waters of publishing with a steady hand and nerves of steel. I’m grateful every day that you are on my team.

  This is my third book with the extraordinary Alyson Heller. Her editorial insights are like emergency lighting on an airplane, leading me to where I need to go. The first time we met in person, we spent two hours talking about travel, and I knew right then we were going to be friends. And thank you to Vivienne To for book covers that capture exactly the essence of the series. I could not have imagined anything better. And to the entire team at Aladdin, thanks for making the process so easy.

  Writers are solitary creatures, but there are always a handful of friends who keep us going when we just want to crawl back under the covers. Lisa Schmid, Eileen Rendahl, Christine Crawford, Linda Mellema—thank you.

  And to my tween and teen kids, you have no idea how much I eavesdrop on your conversations and steal the good parts, do you? No, of course you don’t, and thank goodness for that. Thank you for being who you are. The world needs you, now more than ever, and I know you are up to the challenge. You are my inspiration and my heart.

  And finally this book is for Mike, my partner in everything that matters, because they all are.

  About the Author

  Beth McMullen is the author of the Mrs. Smith’s Spy School for Girls series and several adult mysteries. Her books have heroes and bad guys, action and messy situations.

  An avid reader, she once missed her subway stop and rode the train all the way to Brooklyn because the book she was reading was that good.

  She lives in Northern California with her family; two cats; and a parakeet named Zeus, who is sick of the cats eyeballing him like he’s dinner. Visit her online at www.BethMcMullenBooks.com.

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  Also by Beth McMullen

  MRS. SMITH’S SPY SCHOOL FOR GIRLS

  POWER PLAY

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ALADDIN

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  First Aladdin hardcover edition August 2019

  Text copyright © 2019 by Beth McMullen

  Jacket illustration copyright © 2019 by Vivienne To

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  Book designed by Laura Lyn DiSiena

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: McMullen, Beth, 1969– author.

  Title: Double cross / by Beth McMullen.

  Description: First Aladdin hardcover edition. | New York : Aladdin, 2019. | Series: Mrs. Smith’s Spy School for Girls ; [3] | Summary: While participating in the Challenge at Briar Academy, Abby and friends learn that their nemesis is using Briar as headquarters for planning an attack, and that the Ghost has inside help.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2019001638 (print) | LCCN 2019002779 (eBook) | ISBN 9781481490283 (eBook) | ISBN 9781481490269 (hardcover)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Spies—Fiction. | Boarding schools—Fiction. | Schools—Fiction. | Friendship—Fiction. | Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. | BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION / Action & Adventure / General. | JUVENILE FICTION / Social Issues / New Experience. | JUVENILE FICTION / Girls & Women.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.M4644 (eBook) | LCC PZ7.1.M4644 Dou 2019 (print) | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019001638