But that was hardly the time to explain. Oh, no, we totally had better things to do, as Bex was no doubt aware, because she was backing farther into the shadows, saying, "Come on. One operative extraction coming up."
Before I knew what was happening, Bex was pulling me to my feet and hooking me to the cable, and Macey was pushing open the loft door to the chilly autumn night, getting ready to lower me outside like a great big bale of hay.
"No," I said, but Liz pushed me out the door.
"I can't," I cried, but I was spinning around and around in midair. Before I knew it, Liz was joining me on the ground, followed by Macey, who bolted for the trees that lined the edges of the pasture.
"Liz, I can't do this," I said as I gripped my friend's skinny shoulders. "I've got to get back inside, somehow."
"Have you gone completely bonkers?" Bex said as she joined us on the ground.
"But Josh is in there," I protested.
"So are your mother and Mr. Solomon," Bex pointed out. She jerked the stretch of cable I was holding, and it burned through my hands.
"Bex, I can't just leave him! He'll worry. He'll start looking and asking around and…"
"She's right," I heard Liz saying. "It's a direct violation of CoveOps rule number—"
But I was never going to know which CoveOps rule that violated, because just then a big ruby-colored flash came zooming out of the forest.
"Get in!" Macey cried from the driver's seat. For a moment, I didn't know which was more surprising, the fact that my classmates had come to rescue me in a Gallagher Academy golf cart or that Bex had let Macey drive (although, when you think about it, Macey probably did have way more golf-cart experience than the rest of us).
When Liz saw the dazed look on my face, she blushed and said, "Let's just say Bubblegum Guard is going to wake up in a few hours, amazed that his sinus medicine made him so drowsy."
I heard the music stop and wild applause, but it felt like we were a mile from the party. Josh was in there. Of course, so were two people who could punish me in ways that have been illegal since the Geneva Convention. But still, I looked at Bex and said, "I can't go."
Liz was already climbing into the golf cart, leaving Bex and me alone in the dark.
"I'll be okay," I told Bex. "I'll get Josh and we'll leave." She didn't say anything. We were on the dark side of the party, but I could read her face in the light of the full moon. I didn't see fear; I saw disappointment. It seemed a whole lot worse.
"They could catch you, you know?" Bex asked.
"Hey," I tried, forcing a laugh, trusting my smile to thaw her, "I'm The Chameleon, right?"
But Bex was already sliding into the backseat. "See you at home."
The Operative decided to go into a holding pattern in hopes of extracting The Subject and salvaging the mission. At least two hostile agents were inside (and they were going to get a lot more hostile if things didn't go well), so it was a risky move, but one she was willing to make, even as she watched her backup drive away.
Mom and Mr. Solomon might have had the advantage when it came to training and experience, but I had a superior position and far more information. As I crouched behind the hood of a big, black Buick, watching the doors, I went through my options: A) cause a diversion and hope to pull Josh away in the chaos, B) wait for either Josh or Mom and Mr. Solomon to leave, and pray they didn't decide to leave at the exact same time, or C) think of more options.
After all, I did have access to gasoline, rocks, and aluminum cans, but that old barn seemed really, really flammable, and I wasn't exactly in the mood to take chances.
I was just starting to wonder if one of the pickup trucks parked beside me would have a rope, when I heard someone say, "Cammie?" I spun around to see DeeDee heading my way. "Hi. I thought that was you."
She was wearing a really pretty pink dress that matched her stationery. Her blond hair was pulled away from her face. She looked almost doll-like as she floated toward me through the dark.
"Hi, DeeDee," I said. "You look really nice."
"Thanks," she said, but didn't sound like she believed me. "You, too."
Nervously, I fingered the corsage. The orchid petals felt like silk against my hand.
"I see he went ahead and got you one."
I looked down at my wrist. "Yeah." I didn't know how to feel about the fact that Josh had discussed his corsage plans with another girl, but then I looked at her and realized I didn't feel nearly as weirded-out about it as she did.
DeeDee pointed toward the lights and swaying couples in the distance and said, "I figured if I came late then I wouldn't have to be a wallflower for too long."
I imagined her blending in with the wooden slats and bales of hay, disappearing among the sea of couples until no one noticed one girl standing alone, not quite a part of the party. That's when I knew that DeeDee was a chameleon, too.
"So, what are you doing out here by yourself?" DeeDee asked.
It was a pretty good question. Thankfully, one I was ready for.
I rubbed my temples and said, "It's so loud in there, my head is killing me. I had to get some air."
"Oh," she said, and started digging in her tiny pink purse. "Do you want some aspirin or something?"
"No. Thanks, though."
DeeDee stopped digging, but she still didn't look at me when she said, "He really likes you, you know? I've known him for forever, and I can tell he really likes you."
Even if I hadn't read her note, I would have known how much she liked Josh, how deeply she wished that he would someday buy her a wrist corsage. And she'd wear it—not because it was part of some silly inside joke but because Josh had given it to her.
"I really like him, too," I said, not knowing what else to say.
She smiled. "I know."
And then I thought she'd walk away. I really needed her to walk away, because I absolutely had to come up with a way of getting Josh out of there! "Well, don't let me keep you, DeeDee," I said, running through possible distractions in my mind: small explosion, easily contained forest fire, the possibility that there might be some pregnant woman inside who could go into labor in the next half hour …
"Cammie?" DeeDee asked, and I couldn't help myself, I snapped, "What?"
"Do you want me to tell Josh you need to go home?"
Or that could work, too.
As DeeDee walked toward the party, I found myself envying her. She saw Josh at school. She knew what he ate in the cafeteria and where he sat in class. There was no part of her life she couldn't share with him—nothing he didn't already know from a lifetime of dances and carnivals and ordinary days. And then I found myself thinking: if all things were equal, would he still like me then?
But I would never know, because things would never be equal. DeeDee would always be flesh and blood to him, and I'd always be a legend.
"Are you sure I can't drive you home?" Josh asked as he turned the van onto Main Street and we headed for the square. "Come on. I know you're not feeling well. Let me—"
"No, that's okay," I said. "My head doesn't hurt now." Not a lie.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
He parked along the square, and we got out and walked to the gazebo. He held my hand, and it was a very Dear Diary moment, if you know what I mean, because the lights in the gazebo were on but the town was deserted and his hand was soft and warm, and then … he handed me a present!
The box was small and blue (but not Tiffany blue as Macey would later point out) and circled by a pink ribbon.
He said, "I hope you like it."
I was stunned. Completely. I'd gotten presents before, sure, but usually they were things like new running shoes or a signed first edition of A Spy's Guide to Underground Russia. Never had the presents come with pretty pink ribbons.
"My mom helped me wrap it," Josh admitted, then motioned to the gift in my hands. "Go ahead," he told me, but I didn't want to open it. How sad is that—that the idea of a present was more precious to me than the gift itself?