Extremely Classified-Deleted Scenes from the Gallagher Girls Series

A Gallager Wedding

This was originally published in special edition books. This has been out for quite a while, but I'm just posting it now because it was made easier to upload for me ;)

My mother didn't get married during springtime in the gardens; Macey had gotten that part wrong. That spring, the Gallagher Academy had other priorities.

Massive holes covered the grounds. Hazmat teams had spent weeks digging through the con- tents of Dr. Fibs's labs and all three Sublevels (what was left of them). The pits were hundreds of feet deep, and they covered the campus. I knew the people in town must have thought we were crazy. But I didn't care. Let people judge you. It never changes the truth.

The trustees had called together a special team of retired Gallagher Girls to collect and archive all of the surviving artifacts and

memorabilia. Even the crumbling walls had been catalogued piece-by-piece, stone-by-stone in preparation for the inevitable job of putting them all back together.

And they would go back together. Eventually. My time at the Gallagher Academy had taught me that there are some things that can never, ever be pulled apart.

By seven P.M. on the Fourth of July the scaffolding was going up, and the sun was going down. I stood in the loft of the P&E barn, looking out a window at the white tents and folding chairs that covered the lawn. Down below, Bex was fixing Liz's hair. My mom and Abby were tucked away in one of the offices. And someone had given Macey a headset.

"Beta team, you are a go for canapés. I repeat. Beta team, canapés are a go!" When Madame Dabney carried a box full of bouquets into the P&E barn, Macey spun on her. "Are those daylilies?" Macey snapped. "Tell me those aren't daylilies!" Macey bolted across the barn, shouting, "Where are my orchids?"

I started down the stairs as soon as Macey opened the door. Through the doorway, I could feel the hot summer breeze and hear the sounds of a four-piece orchestra. Waiters walked by carrying silver trays, and a few limos were coming up the drive.

"If I see a carnation, I swear I'm going to hurt somebody!" Macey shouted, and ran outside.

"Well, at least she's not overreacting," Bex said, then patted Liz on the back. "You're finished."

Liz spun and checked the back of her hair in the massive mirror that lined one wall of the barn. It was the very place where we'd learned to perfect our form and land our punches; but on that day, Liz stood and smoothed her silky skirt and patted her updo. In her frilly, delicate dress, she looked like something Renoir might have painted. I smiled at her, almost wistful. It was like I'd stepped into another reality. We were primping in the P&E barn. I wondered if our school's founder would have been horribly offended or extremely proud. But somehow I knew the answer: Gillian Gallagher had killed a man while wearing a hoop skirt. Gilly wouldn't have minded one bit.

"Cammie, are you okay?" Liz asked me. "Because it would be okay, you know . . . not to be okay."

"I'm fine, Lizzie," I told her. "I swear."

Sure, Macey had told (correction: warned) me that as maid of honor, it was my responsibility to see to the bride's every need. But, thus far, my mother had mostly just needed someone to keep her from killing Macey. I was feeling pretty good about my job when I heard a voice behind me say, "Cammie?"

Aunt Abby looked like an angel. Her dress was long and flowing. A dramatic strap covered one shoulder, hiding the scar from the time she'd gotten shot saving Macey's life. I don't know if Macey had chosen that particular dress for Abby's benefit or her own. My hunch was the latter. It wasn't the type of day when Macey—or any of us, really—wanted to be reminded about our scars.