[ - on the way to the nurse's office; sixth period - ]

Pulling Preston along by the wrist, Cammie marched down the halls, aggravated. "I can't believe this! I leave you for one period, and in that time, you manage to infect your black eye?" she asked incredulously, shaking her head. "How do you even infect a black eye? Pres, I'm like, not your mother."

"Well, my mother is a vapid socialite who can name more types of shoes than she can American states and Presidents combined, which is super-ironic, because my dad happens to be one of those Presidents," Preston retorted, scratching at his black eye, which was now a sickly yellowish-green color, and puffy. "So you should be glad that you're not her."

"I'm not."

"Or not, you don't have to be," Preston yawned.

Cammie sighed as she pulled open the door to the nurse's office, dragging Preston in after her and forcing him to sit on one of the many stretchers lined up in the main ward. "Well, worst-case scenario, they have to remove your eye and cut off half your face," Cammie said comfortingly. "Best case scenario, full head amputation."

Preston gave her the finger.

She laughed, and patted his head, before turning and heading towards the nurse's office, knocking on her office door three times in quick succession. In her peripheral vision, she could see Preston gingerly touching his face; his black eye had swelled up so much, it had forced his eye closed. She was actually generally concerned about the state of his health.

"Yes, dear?" The nurse, who was in her early fifties, with short, curled hair, asked, opening the door just a bit

"I have a friend, he has an infected eye," Cammie told her, looking back at Preston, who was looking at his reflection in a stainless steel cotton swab holder. The nurse nodded curtly, then tried to closed the door, but not before Cammie stuck her leg out, trapping her foot. The nurse, whose name tag read Francine, scowled a bit. "Aren't you going to help him?"

"Well, yes, of course," Francine said. "In a few minutes."

She tried to close the door again, but Cammie's foot hadn't moved, so she couldn't. Cammie frowned, looking past the nurse's shoulder and into her office. There were no papers on her desk or anything, and it didn't look like she'd been doing anything. Confused, she crossed her arms over her chest. "But he's probably dying," Cammie said, not actually believing it, but using the extra time to peer into the office some more.

"I sincerely doubt that," the nurse informed her, but Cammie was distracted by a stainless steel cotton swab container, exactly like the one Preston had been checking himself out in, sitting on a counter in her office. In the reflection, she could see the warped outline of a person. A very familiar person, actually.

"Hm," Cammie said, and before the nurse could try and close the door again, she kicked it, and it swung back, revealing, for two seconds, Zach - sitting on a stretcher, looking up at the ceiling, covered in blood and bruises, with Solomon standing by. At the sound of the door banging against the wall, Zach's head turned slightly to face her, and the extent of his injuries became evident. A bleeding lip, cherry-red swollen patches, scraped cheeks. Her jaw dropped a bit and she let the door swing back, stepping backwards hastily. "You know, I can wait."

The door slammed shut.

"I think I'm getting a fever," Preston said faintly, feeling his forehead. Distracted, Cammie looked back at him, her eyebrows knitting together. Preston frowned. "Are you okay?"

"I - yeah, of course," Cammie replied, shaking her head. She brushed a piece of hair back behind her ear and looked around. "Well, the nurse is coming out soon, so you should be fine on your own until then - I, uh, I have homework to do and I should really go...do it."

"You don't do homework," Preston pointed out.

Cammie grinned. "Well, now will be a great time to start."

Then, she practically sprinted out of the nurse's office.

[ - after curfew - ]

You're here to check-up on Preston and do nothing else, Cammie told herself nearly eight hours later, as she carried the care package she'd made for her best friend during her free period towards the hospital ward. And if you happen to accidentally forget which door is the exit and open the door to the private ward instead, then that's fine.

"Hey, Preston," Cammie whispered, dropping her care package on his face. "Wake up."

"Yargh," Preston replied, jolting himself awake. He pushed the care package off his face and squinted upwards towards Cammie, before picking up the care package and examining it suspiciously. "Oh my God. I'm still dreaming, aren't I?"

"What? Of course not," Cammie replied, feeling offended.

Groggily, Preston tore open the parcel. A package of jelly beans, three packs of Skittles, a box of cookies and two energy drinks fell into his lap. He stared at them for a second. "I really am dreaming. You're never this nice to me in real life."

"Of course I am!" Cammie said indignantly. "Don't make me give you a second black eye."

"Have you poisoned these?" Preston asked.

"Why would I -"

"Just asking," Preston shrugged, tearing open a pack of Skittles. He rubbed his eyes as he sat himself up on the bed. "What time is it, anyway?"

"About two in the morning," Cammie answered casually. Preston glared. Cammie frowned. "What?"

"You know I'm in my deepest cycle of sleep at two in the morning!" Preston accused, his mouth full of Skittles. "Now I'll never be able to get back to sleep. I knew this care package was suspicious. Why couldn't you have given it to me after dinner or something?"

His face suddenly darkened with realization.

"You didn't come here to give me a care package, did you," Preston sighed, as if dealing with an insolent child. "This was just a cover - a very weak one, I might add - in case you got caught while you creeped on Zach, isn't it?"

"I'm not creeping on him," Camie said, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. Preston stared at her judgmentally. "Oh my God, eat your Skittles and go back to sleep."

"Fat chance, since you've woken me up during my deepest cycle of sleep," Preston retorted. He finished his candy, then lay back down on the bed. Two minutes later, he was snoring.

Cammie rolled her eyes and moved the contents of her care package from Preston's bed to the bedside table, before moving towards the private ward. The door was locked, but she had been prepared for that, so she took a bobby pin out of her hair and effortlessly picked it. Two seconds later, the door popped open, revealing a dim sliver of light. Cammie stuck her head inside, taking a sweeping look of the ward, before snapping back out and slamming the door shut.

She didn't even pause to see if the sound of the door had woken up the nurse as she jogged quickly out of the hospital ward back towards her dorm. Instead, her brain churned as it tried to combat the confusion that had appeared moments ago.

Because Zach wasn't bruised or battered, laying on the bed in the private ward.

In fact, he wasn't there at all.

The ward had been empty, the air crisp, and the sheets straightened, as if nobody had been in there at all.

[ - breakfast, the next day - ]

"And basically, I didn't get any studying done, because Tina freaking Walters kept asking me these stupid questions that I'm pretty won't be on any CoveOps test, unless the curriculum spontaneously expands to include the benefits of conditioning your hair when you wash it," Macey grumbled, slamming her textbooks down on the breakfast table irritably. "That girl does not know how to take a hint. Or she chooses to ignore it."

"You should've just told her to go away," Cammie suggested, setting her plate of eggs and hashbrowns on to the table gently.

"I did," Macey sighed. "Several times. And she ignored me, and I couldn't punch her in the face because we had witnesses and I don't need another disciplinary action report on my record, and now I'm going to fail CoveOps."

"I can help you study!" Preston said brightly, grinning from ear to ear.

"You do realize the mid-term is today, right?" Macey asked, raising an eyebrow. "Like, after breakfast. It's kinda too late to study, with you or otherwise."

"But if it weren't, you would study with me?" Preston asked keenly.

Macey made a face, and Preston pressed his lips together hopelessly and dutifully walked away to help himself to his food. The second he disappeared, Macey turned on Cammie. "Okay, so what's the deal?"

"What's the what?" Cammie asked, looking up at her friend.

"The deal, Cam. You've been acting weird all morning. Although, considering you went to bed at two in the morning, that would make sense," Macey said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"Nothing."

"You're kidding, right? There are maybe three people in the world who can tell when you're lying, and I happen to be one of them," Macey scoffed. "You barely listened to my story, and normally you jump at any chance to complain about Tina Walters. And you keep searching the Dining Hall for someone. Cam, I may have transferred during sophomore year, but I'm all caught up on this spy stuff now. I notice things."

Cammie sighed, shrugging. "I don't know. It's kind of weird."

"You know what's weird? The fact that we go to a spy school," Macey reminded.

Which was true.

Almost conspiratorially, Cammie leaned forward. "You have to promise not to tell anyone," Cammie began.

"Given."

Cammie paused, before telling Macey what she'd seen yesterday in the hospital ward. "And then he was just gone. And there's no way he could've healed that fast, because he looked like he'd, I don't know, fallen off a cliff or something. So either he was transferred, or -"

"Wait," Macey interrupted. "Zach. Zach Goode?"

"Yeah."

Macey frowned. "And he was gone when you checked on him again. And he was really beat up the first time you saw him. And you're sure it was Zach Goode."

"Yeah," Cammie answered, confused. "What?"

"Is it the same Zach Goode that looks like he maybe fell off a cliff into the land of the perfectly healthy and is currently walking towards this table as we speak?" Macey asked, looking behind Cammie, her cerulean blue eyes big and bright.

Cammie nearly fell off her seat trying to turn around, but she saw that Macey was right. It was Zach. He looked fine. In fact, he looked better than fine - he looked good. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Cammie exclaimed under her breath, getting out of her chair immediately and striding over to him. He had barely noticed her when she reached up and poked him under his eye, before examining him closely for his reaction.

There was a short pause. Then, "Ow."

"Aha! So you are hurt," Cammie said triumphantly. "Oh, thank God I'm not crazy."

"Well, you did just poke me in the eye," Zach pointed out. "I wouldn't get to confident in your sanity just yet."

Cammie scrutinized him for a second narrowing her hazel eyes suspiciously. He stared back, a hint of confusion drifting across his face. Finally, Cammie said, "I don't get it."

"Neither do I," Zach agreed, nodding his head and looking more confused.

Cammie squinted. "Is this something we have to talk about? I think we have to talk about it," Cammie said, still looking at Zach.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Zach admitted truthfully.

"Are you a vampire? Do you have a twin?" Cammie asked, her mind running through the possibilities. "A new breed of superhuman? Did Dr. Fibs give you something? Don't accept anything from him, he's partially blind and sometimes mixes up water and hydrogen peroxide -"

Zach looked at her like she was crazy.

"Okay, I can spell it out for you. Yesterday, you looked like a pile of shi -"

Zach suddenly flinched and quickly cut her off, repeating, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Well, you didn't look that bad, considering you were all -" Cammie began defensively, feeling like she'd accidentally insulted him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Zach repeated again, and in a slightly quieter voice, he added, "And neither should you."

Cammie blinked, her words faltering suddenly. Because as he said it, he looked directly at her, his eyelids cast downward. His eyelashes were long. His eyes were dark and gray. Then, without another word, he took his hands out of his pockets and pushed by her gently, his fingertips resting on the small of her back for a millisecond as he exited the Dining Hall.

end note: i have two things to tell you! first: i have an idea of where the main plot is going (zammie kiss by/in chapter 10!), but i don't have many ideas for specific events. if you want something to happen in the story, tell me in a review or PM and i'll try to work it in! second: i made a tumblr for gallagher girls! it's blackthorne-boy . tumblr . com and i'll review a story of yours if you follow (and tell me) because i haven't found any good stories recently :( sorry for the wait as usual, but thanks for reading!