Extremely Classified-Deleted Scenes from the Gallagher Girls Series

LYKY

"Is that Glycolysis or Gluconeogenesis?" Macey asked. Yes-our Macey. The Macey who had crawled out of a limo and bragged about only eating eight hundred calories a day. I know what you're thinking-sometimes it amazes me, too.

I squinted through the glow of the secret room, absorbed in its tomb-like silence (luckily Macey's nose ring only makes that annoying wheezy noise when she's sleeping.) I leaned toward my stack of seventh grade notebooks and dug until I found the one labeled biochem.

I licked my thumb like Grandpa Morgan always does when he's reading the newspaper and started flipping through pages. Halfway through a lecture about Amino Acid & Peptide Structures a series of doodles caught my eye in the margins. Most of them were in Bex's distinctive handwriting. Like...

Do you think my boobs look any bigger today, because I think I felt them growing last night?

And...

Wouldn't it be awesome if they hired some hot guy to teach CoveOps when Buckingham retires?

And, my personal favorite...

Whose bright idea was it for Mr. Mosckowitz to get a perm?

It's kind of amazing we made it this far, when you think about it. I kept flipping through the pages, through the years, remembering the things we were learning and the celebrities we were stalking (not that I'm not admitting that we were the ones who programmed that satellite to take pictures of Matt Damon-even if it was exceptional work...)

Then I saw it:

Lifetime Goals and Objectives of Cameron Ann Morgan

-Graduate from Gallagher Academy (obviously)

-Pass CoveOps Gauntlets Senior Year (obviously)

-Become youngest field agent to ever lead mission for CIA

-Develop breasts (preferably in the B to C cup range)

-Buy awesome house to share with Bex and Liz (ideally one with a pool)

-Invent calorie-free chocolate chip cookie dough

-Gain Top Secret, Eyes Only security clearance

-Find out who was with Dad on his last mission

-Find out what happened

-Do what has to be done...

Papers were everywhere-class notes and study sheets, so I shouldn't have been surprised when Macey started digging. I should have been ready for when she picked up the slip of paper that had tumbled from my bag and asked, "What's this?"

She didn't know what A29-b stood for, of course, but as her gaze swept across the words "Career Track Declaration" I saw recognition dawn.

"It's nothing," I said, grabbing it from her hand as I gathered my things and stood to leave. I closed the seventh grade notebook and my seventh grade dreams. "I don't have the answer, Macey," I said.

And I didn't.