You Should Have Had The Decency To

Abby Must Have Been The One Who Found The Safe House, Because Townsend Didn't Like It. "the Building Across The Street Is Under Construction," He Snarled As Soon As We'd Carried Our Bags Inside. "the Elevator Has Key Card Access, And I've Hacked Into The Surveillance Cameras From Every System On The Block," Abby Argued. "we Have A Three-hundred-sixty-degree Visual." "excellent." Townsend Dropped His Bag. "now The Circle Can See Us From Every Angle." "don't Mind Agent Townsend, Girls," Abby Told Us. "he's A Glass-half-empty Kind Of Spy." "also Known As The Good Kind," He Countered. Abby Huffed.

I'm Fine I Said For The 2,467th Time This Semester. (i Know. I Was Keeping Count)

Of Course. Because At The Gallagher Academy, "precautions" Usually Equals "voluntary Shock Therapy.

Like Many Authors, I Caught The Writing Bug During My Teenage Years. I Don't Remember The Exact Day Or Year, But I Remember That Reading S.e. Hinton's 'the Outsiders' Sparked My Interest In Writing.

Two Days After My Dad's Funeral, My Mom Went On A Mission. I Never Understood It Until Then--that Sometimes A Spy Doesn't Need A Cover So Much As She Needs A Shield.