Mini Stories and One Shots

Gallagher Girls Fanfiction

“Cammie, it’s time.”

Now, there’s many different ways an average teenage girl might react to that very statement.

Procrastinate.                                                                                                                            Deny.                                                                                                                                    Oblige.

But, then again, not most average teenage girls are highly trained operatives that can kill a man with just a pair of thongs (courtesy of Aunt Abby) and a whisk. So, when my best friend said those words to me, I did what any girl that had been through what I’ve been through would do.

I studied her.

Bex had always been a practically bullet proof rock. I’d seen her make guys – from whatever Country – swoon, I’d been in some of her ever famous chokeholds, and I’d stood with her, right by her side, in covert missions.

Her eyes were tired, her hair not as glossy as it used to be. Maybe almost dying does that to people. Maybe if I hadn’t have ran away last summer, she’d still by my side, cheery as ever.

But I knew now wasn’t the time for doubts.

And that was exactly why I just nodded, and said, “OK.”

When Bex started walking in the direction of the Gallagher Academy vans, I didn’t follow. When she called me over from where she was sitting nestled beside Liz and Macey, I didn’t respond. But when two hands clamped themselves on my shoulders, I looked up.

“Gallagher Girl,” Zach said cautiously, as if I might break, which was totally impossible as I’d done far worse then go on issued Covert rescue and escape missions. But I didn’t dare say anything. “Let’s go.”

I shook my head, looked into his eyes. “It’s my fault,” I said softly, remembering Gilly’s letter, remembering Preston’s father’s face as he led me closer to the enemy, remembering looking into the face of my best friend the moment I stepped out of the jet that took me back to the Gallagher Academy.

Zach sighed, gripping my shoulders a little tighter. “No it’s not, Gallagher Girl. It’s not.”

“What if Preston’s the enemy, what if I hadn’t recognized it? What if he’s on the wrong side? What if...” I trailed off, and stared at the ground.

“Two one nine four seven six two.”

 I looked up, saw the certainty in his eyes that not even the greatest operative could forge, and nodded. “Two one nine four seven six two,” I repeated firmly.