(14/02/2013) G'Day everybody! I am the author and I have finally been allowed back into my account after being locked out for a year and a half (at least). I started writing this here FanFic four years ago (I was very young, back then) and I've decided that it isn't the best thing out there. So, I'm cleaning it up. Revising, editing and the like. It is a slow process, but it makes me feel better. Thanks!

A/N: Hi! I have always wanted to write my own story. Every time a read a book my mind starts a story that relates to it, or carries it on. For ages now, I've had a ship full of ideas that include; Cammie, Bex, Macey, Liz, the Gallagher Girls and our fav Blackthrone Boys (Zach especially!). If you guys actually enjoy the story, I'll stay with Ally's idea. I WILL put the Circle of Cavan in. I WILL put some Z/C, B/G, L/J and M/OC in my story (But there won't be a lot. SORRY). And if I can manage it will be COMPLETELY Cammie POV! I will write this story to the end, no matter if people Hate it or Love it.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own: The Gallagher Academy, Cammie, Bex, Macey, Liz, Jonas, Grant, Mr Solomon, Josh or any Characters that Ally Carter created.

I WISH I owned Zach though.

My Gallagher Girls Story – Danger isn't a Game

Chapter 1 Normality and Classes
Note: Combined first two original chapters into one.

Cammie's POV

Beautiful: That was the only word I could find, in any of the fourteen different languages I knew, that could describe Gallagher in winter. The trees were dotted with the buds of new leaves and flowers. Some had even started to face the day already.

I cleared the stained glass that my breath had fogged up. It was so peaceful, tranquil and quiet. Well for the most part. The squeals and scream's from the grand hall were drifting up to me, as the seventh graders greeted their friends. The aromas from the kitchen told me that the Welcome-Back dinner was about to begin in less than two hours.

If you have a level 6 clearance then by now, you should know the secret of my school. The Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women isn't what it seems. It's a school alright- But for spies.

Heaving a sigh, I uncurled from my position in the window seat where I had managed to disappear to for the last three hours. Smoothing out any crinkles in my skirt and took a deep breath. Entering the Great Hall, I avoided eye contact with any of the other girls sitting around the tables.

I took my seat by my friends and gathered that:

1: There were a lot of interesting winter vacation stories (Apparently, Courtney Bauer had gone on a assignment for the CIA with her father to catch a group of rouge terrorists in an unknown location. They had captured them with only a silk scarf, a couple of poisoned tick-tacks and a pair of headphones).

2: The seventh graders were rumoured to be going on a pop quiz to Roseville to tail a group of tourists.

3: Tina Walters was gossiping about 38 different rumours (and counting [And by this time next week, only a quarter would be found true]).

4: One of my room-mates and best, best friend ever, Rebecca Baxter, had told half of the Junior class about our trip to London and how we had gotten to see the Queen's secret service work to keep the a) Tourists b) Crazed Psychopaths and/or would-be terrorists out while the queen had her daily afternoon tea.

I turned to find one of my other room-mates and best friends, Elizabeth Sutton, looking even paler and skinner then last semester, hurriedly writing notes on what Bex was saying.

Bex had been in London for weeks with me, but her cappuccino-coloured skin seemed even darker and her caramel coloured eyes seemed to glow. She looked like a cross between an Egyptian Goddess and Cleopatra.

"Cammie, is Bex actually telling the truth?" Liz's southern accent broke into my thoughts. She seemed shorter than last time as well. But then again, everyone's been telling me that I've grown a lot over break. I gave her a small smile and held back a laugh. Liz was the kind of girl that liked the facts first hand, then checked and ran through a computer database to be approved. But then again, that was just the way someone acts when they have an IQ bigger than Einstein's (plus Bex can be way, way over dramatic when she wants to be).

I nodded my head in response to the question while trying to keep my laughter in. Over break I had become more observant and had: 1. Kept in shape, by continually fighting Bex (and surprisingly winning against Bex) 2. Practiced reading facial experiences and physical movement (for future references) 3. Practiced lying – facial expression, voice level control, physical movement and pupil dilatation (it's harder to do then say).

I felt a slight rush of air. I turned to find my last room-mate/Best Friend had sat down next to me. She was still as perfect as usual. No pimples, blemishes, freckles or disfiguring marks of any kind. The only difference I could find was that her arm was out of her sling; the last reminder of Boston was gone.

Macey McHenry smiled slightly at me. We both shared a memory that would never leave. A memory that had been my drive to stay vigilant, alert and in shape over break; a memory that had changed us both for ever.

"Hey," Macey spoke first, "how was London Cammie?" I had to smile at Macey McHenry, Senators daughter and best under-cover spy I'd ever seen in action.

"It was great Mace. How was your break?" Her pretty face darkened.

"14 days on a boat with my mother, the senator," keeping up her vow to never say her father's name, Macey continued, "Mr and Mrs Winters and Preston. Gee, it was just so dandy!"

I laughed at the sarcasm and face she made at Prestons name. I knew that their secret relationship was better than no relationship at all, but when you're a McHenry… when you're a McHenry, a secret relationship is not an easy one to keep (secret, I mean). But Macey was the best actor in the world. She knew that I knew about her SBF (Secret Boy Friend), but still she clung to the cover till the end (Preston isn't that bad though). Then again Tina Walters was sitting two seats away from us.

As we laughed about it, the big wooden-oak doors to the Hall opened, our teachers walked in smiling like nothing was wrong.

We waited in silence as we watched the doors, waiting for our last 4 teachers to come in. Finally after what seemed a decade (it was 4 minutes, 18 seconds) Professor Buckingham entered, Mr Smith following close behind her - his new face would still be considered hot (his nose was slightly bigger, eyebrows smaller and a small mole featured on his far right check). While my fellow classmates memorised Mr Smith's new face (he's one of the world's most paranoid agents and insists on getting a new face every semester… which helps with his Countries of the World, or COW classes), my eyes moved towards the door again. I waited for my mum and Joe Solomon, the hottest teacher at Gallagher Academy, and my Covert Ops teacher, to enter.

When they did, they were the picture of calm - as if last semester didn't happen. Even though it did and had.

My mum took her spot behind the podium and everyone stood at the same time. Even the seventh years knew what to do as their Head Mistress took her place. We were in sync, a well oiled-machine designed to discover secrets and not get killed in the act.

We recited the 'pledge' and took our seats. Mum stayed standing. Gripping the podium she engaged every girl in the room. Her eyes stayed a fraction of a second longer on Macey and I before moving off.

"Welcome back to another exciting year at Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. This semester will bring many changes to your lives. Last semester is in the past. But we mustn't forget past experiences. We need to set our eyes to future experiences. Embrace what is to come. Forge friendships and strengthen old ones."

My face was expressionless (see: PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT) but inside I wanted out. She was talking to everyone, but she had worked it perfectly to send a message to Bex, Liz, Macey and I.

"As sisters we will face many hardships, changes and challenges in the years to come. But for now, we should enjoy the food before us," Bex's stomach growled and she winked at me, "and prepare ourselves for an exciting first day!"

We took that as a hint and dove into the food. I didn't realise how much I had missed the gourmet food our Chef cooked. Tina had started another six rumours (centring on the late arrival of my mum and Mr Solomon) and I could tell her mind was processing more. I grinned at the normality of Gallagher girls.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Bex staring at me. I turned and gave her a reassuring smile. She nodded forcibly and started attacking her food.

Bex would always be Bex, no matter what the situation.

That night, I slept soundly for the first time in weeks. The Academy made its usual sounds and I felt at home.

"Oh Cammie darling, it's time to wake up!" Bex's accent leaked through on the word darling.

I rolled over and grumbled for her to go away. I heard laughter coming from Liz. I tensed up. This is never a good sign.

"Cammie, get up now or so help me I'll pour this bucket of cold water all over you!" I peaked out through my eyelashes and saw the bucket.

"I'm up, I'm up," I exclaimed. Bex grinned evilly.

"I thought you might be Cammie."

Classes were normal. Mr Fib's arm was covered in gauze (apparently he had some trouble with a Flamethrower prototype. He couldn't remember which Lipstick shade was real). So whenever he bumped it, he'd screw his eyes up and lose his 'train-of-thought' (Liz's words, not mine).

"So Bex, did you actually meet the Queen of England? Or was it just her personal guard?" Liz questioned.

Bex shot me a pleading look. I shrugged and continued grinning broadly. Bex sighed. "No Liz. Cammie and I did not see the Queen. We just met her personal guard."

Liz nodded as if she had suspected that much (she probably did) and crossed off something in her notebook. I looked over her shoulder.

"So my only question is: what is the notebook for?" Liz let lose her famous "Liz Glare," it was supposed to be intimidating. But we knew her too well to find it that way.

"It's filled with all the gossip and rumours Tina has spread," she shrugged, "I'm just splitting the Fact from Fiction." I smiled.

Same old Liz.

Bex and I turned to head down the concealed corridor underneath the Grand Staircase and stood before the gilded-steel mirror. At the end of our first sophomore semester we had been given the choice of doing one of two things. 1. Take a safe life behind a desk in the CIA headquarters or 2. Take a life in the field; where day in day out you risked your lives.

Bex and I had chosen the later option and since then, I had been thrown at more obstacles and challenges then most of my sisters. Even more then Bex Baxter: first non-American Gallagher Girl to ever walk our halls.

The Mirror came to life and we didn't blink or do anything to confuse the scanner as it confirmed our identities. The doors slide open and I heard Bex mumble "We're in."

I laughed at her and she grinned. Her perfectly straight and blindingly white teeth flashed (not really. But her teeth actually are really WHITE). As the elevator started it's descend to Sublevel Two, I wondered what Joe Solomon had planned for us this semester.

Thoughts of tailing a Level 4 CIA agent left my head as the door opened into the familiar stone walls and ceiling. As we walked passed the familiar doors (that could/would never be opened), I smiled. If this was Sublevel Two, what would Sublevel Three hold for us?

Bex and I took our seats and waited for Mr Solomon to enter. One thing that still shocked Gallagher Girls was that Joe Solomon worked on his own time. We had gotten used to Mr Solomon rocking up to class with 30 minutes left. But this time, just as Kim and Tina took there seats, Mr Solomon came into the room.

"Trust Ms. Lee. Define it," Never a hello, always straight to the topic.

"The trait of believing in the honesty and reliability of others," Kim sounded like she was reading straight from the dictionary.

Solomon nodded. "Trust ladies, it's not something we find in our line of business." He looked over every single one of us, as if he was trying to send an individual message to every girl in the room.

"I'm not being pessimistic. I'm being honest. We go by what others have told us, not always what we know ourselves. It's the only flaw in our lives. For most people trust comes easily. They go by what they have seen and heard. Not by their gut instincts."

Everyone was watching him intently now. I was frozen to my chair as one thought passed through my mind. Zach.

"Sometimes people betray your trust in the hopes of helping you. Trust isn't all good, nor is it all bad either. Ladies, what I'm saying isn't hard to understand. But for most spies, it's the one thing between life and death. An enemy can send in an 'anonymous' tip to agencies everywhere. Then the agency has to decide whether or not to trust it."

He leaned back against the desk behind him. I took in every thing about him: his body language, his eyes and his facial expressions as he looked at us.

"Trust is something most spies take for granted. In our line of work, we need to trust our team mates, or 'partners' if we have them. They're our lifeline. They are the ones who should be aiding us throughout a mission. They are the ones who could get us out of a life and death situation. They are the ones who decide whether we die or not," he stood up.

"Ladies, the other girls at Gallagher can help you with this problem. You get to know them - you do certain exercises and tests with them for a reason. It's to build up the trust -," he put an extra edge to the word, "– the trust that you will need out there, in the field. You need to be able to trust the people who are giving you the information you need and the ability to place your life in their hands out in the field. That extra trust might just save your life."

Mr Solomon stood and walked out of class. My internal clock told me he hadn't been talking for long. But it felt like an eternity to me. Zach had said he wasn't all bad or all good either. He had asked me to trust him on more than one occasion. I'd agreed every single time.

But still, I knew something wasn't right about him. I wanted to ask him so many questions. Most of them centred around one thing: The Circle of Cavan.