Chapter 2, continued

Okay, so I'm obsessed. Officially.

I am now to books what Jonathan from Blow Out is to hair--freaky and compulsive and entirely too into it.

I'd Tell You I Love You But Then I'd Have to Kill You will be out in less than a month. I was excited when Cheating at Soltaire came out last fall, but this book is different. It's not the "oh my gosh, I'm a published author" rush. It's more like a "this is the best book I'll ever write, so if it flops, I'll never make it in this business" nightmare.

So I could panic or cry or hound my publicist with 200 more emails...or I can just post another excerpt instead.

So here it is, the second section of chapter two.

Enjoy!

I'D TELL YOU I LOVE YOU BUT THEN I'D HAVE TO KILL YOU
chapter two, continued

(Haven't read chapter 1? Go here. For the first part of chapter 2, go here.)

The next morning was torture. Absolute torture! And that’s not a word I use lightly considering the family business. So maybe I should rephrase: the first day of classes was challenging.

We didn’t exactly go to bed early…or even a little late…or even at all unless you count lying on the faux fur rug in the common room with the entire sophomore class of sprawled around me as the basis for a good night’s sleep. When Liz woke us up at seven, we decided we could either primp for an hour and skip breakfast or throw on our uniforms and eat like queens before Professor Smith’s 8:05 COW lecture.

B.S. (before Solomon) waffles and bagels would have won out for sure. But today, Professor Smith had a lot of eyelined and lipglossed girls with growling stomachs listening to him talk about civil unrest in the Baltic States when 8:30 rolled around. I looked at my watch, the ultimate pointless gesture at the Gallagher Academy because classes run precisely on time, but I had to see how many seconds were standing between me and lunch. (11,705 just in case you’re curious.)

When COW was over, we ran up two flights of stairs to the fourth floor for Madame Dabney’s Culture and Assimilation lessons which, sadly, that day did not include tea. Then it was time for third period.

I had a pain in my neck from sleeping funny, at least five hours worth of homework, and a newfound realization that woman cannot live on cherry flavored lipgloss alone. I dug in the bottom of my bag and found a breath mint of very questionable origin and figured that if I was going to die of starvation, I should at least have minty-fresh breath for the benefit of whatever classmate or faculty member would be forced to give me CPR.

Liz had to go by Mr. Mosckowitz’s office to drop off an extra credit essay she’d written over the summer (yeah, she’s that girl), so I was alone with Bex when we reached the base of the grand staircase and turned into the small corridor that was one of three ways to the Subs, or Subfloors, where we’d never been allowed before.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror we tried hard not to blink or do anything that might confuse the optical scanner that was going to verify that we were, in fact, sophomores and not seventh graders trying to sneak down to the Subs on a dare. I studied our reflections and realized that I, Cameron Morgan, the headmistress’s daughter who knew more about school than any Gallagher Girl since Gilly herself, was getting ready to go deeper into the vault of Gallagher secrets. Judging from the Goosebumps on Bex’s arm, I wasn’t the only one who got chills at the thought of it.

A green light flashed in the eyes of a painting behind us. The mirror slid aside, revealing a small elevator that would take us one floor beneath the basement to the Covert Operations classroom and--if you want to be dramatic about it--our destinies.

“Cammie,” Bex said slowly, “we’re in.”

From I'd Tell You I Love You But Then I'd Have To Kill You
(Hyperion, May 2, 2006)
available for pre-order now



Please buy it. Please. I'm begging you.


--Ally




Coming Soon: More about another great book available on May 2! (One I love simply because it's great--not because I'll have to go into an author relocation program if it doesn't do well.)