Dropping Like Spies - A Gallagher Girls Story

Chapter Twenty-Three

Bed without supper.  It had been years since I’d been sent to bed without supper.  The last time this had happened, I had shot an arrow at my brother’s head (I wasn’t going to hit him or anything.  I was just aiming close enough to scare him and, well, my aim had less-than-spectacular in those days).  There, in Aunt Bex’s bed, I couldn’t help thinking about how similar this was to the last time.  About how childish I had been.

You deserve this, said the voice I only ever heard in my head anymore.

I tried to ignore her.  Maybe if I ignored her, she’d go away.

But she was right.  I did deserve this.  I deserved the grumbling stomach and the headaches.  I deserved the guilt and the loathing.  I deserved to feel like a terrible person because I was a terrible person.

You couldn’t even make it through an op.

“Leave me alone,” I whispered to the ceiling.  To my mother.

But she was right again.  I had crumbled.  I had broken under the pressure.  What was wrong with me?  Years of training, all of it discredited in a matter of seconds.  We were lucky we hadn’t been found.  I should have just shut up.  Why hadn’t I just shut up?

Because you’re bad at this.

I was.  I was bad at this.

You’ll never be as good as I was.

I squeezed my eyes shut, curling up on my side and shoving a pillow against my ears.  “Shut up.”

Suddenly, three knocks at the door—knock, knock, knock.  A slash of light shone through the crack as someone inched it open.  “Mags?” I heard my brother whisper.

It was just like the last time I’d been sent to bed without supper, except nowadays, the boy who snuck food into my room was much taller.

He opened the door wider, craning his neck to see if I was sleeping or not.  Of course, I wasn’t.  I rarely ever was anymore.  “We made you a sandwich,” he said, offering the plate out to me.

I stayed there for a moment, curled up in that little ball, waiting to see if my mother would come back.  Matt misinterpreted it as my ignoring him.  “Don’t be like this,” he pleaded, walking closer.  He set the plate down on the nightstand and squatted down until his arms folded over the sheets. I turned over to look at him and he turned his head to the side, meeting my eyes.  “I’m sorry I snuck you out of school and got you grounded for the rest of your life.”

No, I wanted to say.  This was my fault.  I deserved this.  “As you should be.”

This made him smile a little and so I smiled a little, too.  It turns out that if you smile when other people do, they automatically think you’re happy too.  “What if I told you that I could make it up to you?”

I sat up on my elbows now, feeling my hair spiral and curl out of control.  “I’m intrigued.  I’m listening. Go on.”

Matt looked like he wanted to laugh.  He really did.  But there was something inside of him that couldn’t.  Something that I didn’t know about yet.  Even in those shadows of that tiny bedroom, my brother’s face looked unusually dark. “There’s one more place I want to show you while you’re here.”

I sighed, falling back down on my back.  “You’ll have to take that up with my parole officer.”

Matt stood back up, holding his hand out to me.  “Aunt Bex wont be back for half an hour, at least.  She won’t even know you were gone.”

I rolled my eyes at him so hard, I thought they might just get stuck there.  “That’s what you said last time.”

Matt nodded, picking up half of my sandwich and taking a bite from it.  “Yeah,” he agreed, a cheek full of ham and cheese.  “But this time I’m sure.”