So, I've been AWOL these past several months and I deeply apologize for that. I have no excuse. I was feeling a little overwhelmed with school and everything going on in my life this past year and I'm sorry that you guys paid the consequence for it.

I'm sorry if you feel like this is a bit of a filler. I originally intended to get the dance into this chapter but it didn't feel right to just graze over the week leading up to it (especially because we don't see much of that week in the actual book). Next chapter I promise will have the dance. Or at least part of it.

AND IT WON'T TAKE ME ANOTHER EIGHT MONTHS TO UPDATE.

Chapter 16.

Perhaps it was the reassurance of knowing that Grant and Jonas had my back for better or worse, or perhaps it was the anticipation of seeing Cammie after finally laying to outline of a plan to keep her safe, but I woke up refreshed on Monday. Jonas was still asleep like a log on the bed next to mine but Grant was already up.

"Morning, sunshine," he said. "I was just leaving for a run. You in?'

I wiped the sleep out of my eyes. "Yeah, just give me a sec."

After we were both dressed for running, we slipped out of the room, careful not to wake the Sleeping Beauty that was drooling on his pillow. Our room was in the East Wing along with the other boys' rooms and there was a small open space off of which the rooms branched. As Grant and I walked across it, two of the other doors opened. Years at Blackthorne had managed to force the habit of a morning run in a number of us. Jonas was one of the few that could let that part of himself go.

I nodded my acknowledgement to the others exiting their rooms but didn't stop for them. Morning runs were supposed to clear your head, not fill them with nonsense and those boys were full of nonsense. The only thing they had been able to talk about since arriving at Gallagher was the physical attributes of the girls.

Tina Walters, a sophomore, apparently had the best ass while Judy Hammond, a senior, was rocking in the rack department. These "facts" among others had been decided upon by the junior and senior boys over a late-night rendezvous. In our room. While we were trying to study.

It was frustrating and irritating and I had wanted to whack them over the head with my oversized copy of Polarization, Alignment, and Orientation in Atomic Collisions. There was something I found incredibly immature about the practice of dissecting individuals and categorizing them based on appearance alone. I know, I know; it's incredibly hypocritical of me to say that considering what career path I was on but to me personally, appearances were easily changed - a person's character not so much.

"Oh, no," Grant said. "You're gonna go all pensive on me, aren't you?"

I rolled my eyes. "What the hell makes you say that?"

He shrugged. "You've got that look on your face."

"I haven't got a look."

"Whatever you say, man. Just let me know when you're ready to get some balls."

I made a move to put him in a headlock but he took off, racing down the halls and out of the mansion.

We passed a couple of other boys on their own habitual runs and took a turn around the lake before making our way back to our room to get ready for the day. Jonas was up by now, typing away at his laptop still in his flannel pajamas, papers spread all over his bed.

"How's that plan for world domination coming, Jonas?" Grant joked.

"Hardy har har." Jonas mumbled, to distracted to come up with a response. "It's an extra credit project. I really want to ace it."

"Really?" Grant chuckled. "Jonas Anderson, an overachiever. Who'd have thought?"

Jonas - forever the naive boy with glasses and a heart of gold despite his education - blushed.

There was a knock on the door and Dr. Steve said in a muffled voice through the wooden door, "Up and at 'em, boys. The day is starting and you'd best be ready!"

"Yes, sir." Grant responded. We heard Dr. Steve laugh through the door. It was jovial and playful and completely unlike the man I had known for the past four and a half years. That man deserved an Emmy.

A half hour later (after Grant and I had both washed off and Jonas had been pulled away from his research on nullifying the effects of radiation in controlled environments), we finally made it to the dining hall. The rest of the school had woken up by now and the hall was bustling as people gabbed and jibbed in Farsi.

I noticed Mr. Solomon chatting with Mr. Smith on the other side of the room. He never looked my way but I had the distinct impression that he knew exactly where I was and what I was doing. Grant nudged me, a questioning look in his eyes but I shrugged off his concern. I was being paranoid, assuming that since my mother was manipulative with a hidden agenda then everyone else was guilty of the same crimes.

I was quiet through breakfast and class. I noticed in COW that Cammie seemed to be distracted as well. Her knuckles rapped against the wooden surface of the desk, and her face was turned toward the window rather than Mr. Smith's introductory lecture on the economic differences around the world and how to use those disparities to our advantage.

At the end of class, I caught up with Cammie. "What's the matter, Gallagher Girl?" I asked her. She whipped her head around to look at me with wide eyes. "You seem...jumpy."

She ignored me and continued to our next class, Culture and Assimilation. After we had all settled into our seats, Madame Dabney began her speech.

"The all-school exam..." She exclaimed. Her voice was ethereal and seemed to linger in the air with a certain quality of wonder. "Ooh, ladies...and gentlemen. In all my years of teaching at this fine institution, I have never had the opportunity to organize such an exciting educational experience."

Her words got the attention of the entire class, even Eva and Tina pried their ogling eyes away from Grant who was lounging in the seat between the two of them.

Madame Dabney continued. "This Friday evening, all students in grades eighth through twelve will be invited to a formal examination." She looked around at the class as if expecting gasps. "A ball, ladies and gentlemen." Her voice was undeniably joyful now. It bubbled with enough excitement to carbonate an ocean of soda. "There's going to be a ball!"

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the look of panic that came across Jonas's face. Being the introvert that he was, he often felt more at home having a conversation with disc drives than humans. Now he'd be in for a night of small talk.

"Tomorrow during this time, you will each be fitted for a gown...and tuxedos. On Friday evening you will be asked to participate in a cumulative examination - a night that will encompass everything we teach. And you will be expected to dance."

I could by the increased tension in Jonas's shoulders that his panic had increased tenfold. Grant hid his with a small grin, but I could tell that he, too, was far from celebrating. Of course we had taken dance classes at Blackthorne (they were nothing if not thorough) and had been taking the classes here, but that didn't change the fact that Jonas had arms like linguini and Grant secretly despised ballroom dancing.

But based on the expressions of the girls in the room, Grant and Jonas were alone in their panic. My gaze fell on Cammie where she sat three seats down from me. Her eyes were set. There was no excitement; only expectance.

Oh, crap.

..^.^..

"Shit."

Jonas was sitting with his head in his hands. We had just returned to our room after dinner and my poor friend had finally succumbed to his panic. Grant was still donning his manly facade and working out his frustration on a punching bag in the barn.

"Jonas, it really won't be that bad." I said, stifling my laughter.

He snorted. "Yeah, right. Don't you remember last year when I was partnered up with Austin last year and he ended up in the infirmary with three broken fingers."

"To be fair, he's a block of muscle that weighs twice as much as you and Maver kept yelling at you to dip him."

He flopped over so he was lying backdown on his bed. "Exactly. I have the comparative muscle mass of a sloth."

I laughed and Jonas threw a pillow at me. It missed.

"Seriously though, man," Jonas said, voice bordering on a whine, "help me out here. Distract me from the debacle I undoubtedly will be in four days."

"Alright, alright. No need to get your panties in a bunch there, princess." He glared at me but there was nothing fear-inspiring in it. Jonas was all bark and no bite. His anger dissipated as quickly as it formed.

"In fact, I do have something I could use your help in." I told him.

His interest was piqued. "I need some help breaking through some firewalls."

"Gallagher firewalls."

I smirked. "Some of those, too."

I continued to be perturbed by my mother's interest in the Morgan's, and I thought that perhaps the answer as to why lay in her past - a past that I assumed was detailed on the CIA database. I said as much to Jonas, and he agreed instantly.

He had whipped out his laptop in seconds, the maniacal look that always possessed him when he started a new project cementing itself on his face. Suddenly, I was no longer the man with the idea but the errand boy.

"Zach, grab me a pen and pad." I knew from experience not to grab him just any pen and pad; he needed his felt pen and yellow legal pad. As I set it down next to him, he had another request. "Grab my pillow off the ground, will ya? Oh, and do you think they have cookies in the kitchen? I'm really in the mood for some oatmeal raisin."

"I'll go check."

He called after me as I headed to the door. "Oh, and milk would be fantastic!"

I shut the door behind me, cognizant of the fact that Jonas hated chatter while he was working. I shook my head at the extreme nature of my friends. Jonas went from being a softie to demanding. And Grant...well, he was Grant.

I felt like a sissy admitting I was lucky to have them.

The halls were still buzzing with the news of the examination. Rumors were flying around like shrapnel on a battlefield. Would we have to complete a twelve-step obstacle course including a ring of fire as the grand finale? Fight off terrorists? Concoct antidotes to poisoned appetizers?

Each rumor was grander than the last - far grander than the exam could ever truly hope to be. I assumed. I hoped. Gallagher didn't seem like the kind of school that decided whether a student passed an exam based on whether they were still alive or not.

I was halfway to the kitchen when I figure appeared at the other end of the hall coming toward me. It was Mr. Solomon. Instinctively, I wanted to duck behind the statue of Amelia Earhart but I stifled my desire.

I could practically hear Grant saying "Be cool, Zach. Be cool."

"Mr. Goode, taking a nighttime stroll?" Mr. Solomon said when we were within a few feet of each other.

"Running an errand for a friend, sir." I replied.

He nodded in understanding. I again got the impression that although his eyes never strayed from me, he saw everything in this hall. Possibly in the school.

"I am curious to know, Mr. Goode, what kind of game you think you're playing."

I stared at him, a little shocked. "I'm not playing any games, sir."

"Then perhaps you need to reevaluate your work ethic. Your team is sloppy."

Without another word he continued past me, leaving me in the lurch.

It took me a couple minutes to remember I was supposed to be finding cookies for my hungry hacker.

When I returned to our room ten minutes later with smuggled cookies and milk, Jonas barely acknowledged my entrance. I knew I had to tell them about my encounter with Mr. Solomon - I had promised not to shut them out. I decided to wait for Grant to return; it was wisest not to interrupt Jonas when he was in the zone.

I didn't have to wait long. Grant came in a couple minutes later, his hair wet from showering and his towel slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, man," I said.

He grunted and ran a hand through his hair. "I've decided not to view dancing as torture."

"That's good."

"Instead, it's an opportunity."

"Exactly." I had no idea where he was going with this.

"An opportunity to practice the art of balance and memorization and coordination. You know, some of those dance moves can be pretty tricky."

"Plus there's the added benefit of getting to dance with an actual girl this time around and not Clive."

He pointed at me, his usual grin reclaiming its spot on his face. "That is a great point."

From his desk, Jonas shushed us.

I put my serious face on. "I, uh, I have something to tell you."

"Shoot." Grant said.

"I ran into Mr. Solomon earlier." I told him. "I'm pretty sure he's got an idea of what we're doing."

"There's no way. We barely even know what we're doing." Grant laughed a little but it didn't cover the fact that he meant what he said. We were kind of just treading water in a shark-infested ocean when we should be swimming to shore.

"Maybe that's why he said we're sloppy."

Grant's lips thinned. If there was one thing that truly upset Grant Newman, it was people criticizing his skills.

"Well, then," he said, looking at me with a dark and mischievous look in his eye that could only be acquired from attending Blackthorne. "I guess we better up the ante, shoudn't we?"

I just want to thank you guys for being so patient with me and not giving up on this story. You seriously rock.

Sorry for any grammatical/punctuational/spelling/plot errors. I do my best but I'm not perfect.

P.S. Someone asked me if I was ever going to post the GG6 sequel to my GG5: Here Comes the Spy. Here's my answer: not right now. I might do at some point in the future, but considering how difficult of a time I'm having updating two stories, I don't want to add a third one to the plate. Hopefully, I will get to GG6 one day, but it probably won't be until I at least finish Just Turn.