Celeste POV

The next morning is a Saturday, which means no classes and no classwork to catch up on. Still the mental alarm clock that wakes me up at 6 a.m. on the nose is ringing in my mind and I stare blankly at the dark ceiling above me. Kate is fast asleep in her bed on the other side of the room loosely clutching a textbook. I try not to giggle as she lets a soft snore escape her. I yawn and sit up, stretching my arms and glance out the blinds at the window, where the first sign of sunlight is creeping in. I throw the covers off my legs and wobble to my feet, feeling my way through the dark room. I tip-toe over to the side of Kate's bed and carefully take the textbook from her arms and set it on the bedside table, dog-earing the page that she had open. She doesn't move an inch.

I move to the closet and pull out a pair of jeans and a sweater. Already, the colder weather of the year is seeping into the Wyoming air and the dark, cloudy days are returning. As a girl born and raised in California, it took me the first two years of attending the Academy to get used to the constant wind and chilly temperatures. But I grew to almost miss it after a while when I would return home in the summers.

When I step outside the room, the hallways are still lit. They stay this way twenty-four-seven. I quietly make my way down the hallway, hearing few early risers behind closed doors. Outside, the sun is starting to peak it's eyes above the mountain tops, and I stop and gaze at it for a few seconds. It spreads warmth across my face, and I take a deep breath in of the cool air. I then continue my trek to the small building across the courtyard. I know that my grandfather is awake and working by now. He arrives at the Academy early in the morning and begins his paperwork at his desk until five o'clock, when he is relieved and returns home to his mansion on the opposite end of Chesterfield. I knock on the door as a message for my entrance, and then peek my head in. The Headmaster of the Academy smiles at me and beckons me in. "Good morning, darling."

I blink at the term of of endearment before taking a seat in front of his desk. It's still odd for him to call me such names, but three months has proven to be helpful in getting used to it. I still call him Headmaster, however. I imagine that one day I will call him something different; maybe after I've graduated and moved on to another part of my life. But for right now, he is still my Headmaster and teacher. "Good morning," I offer a smile and criss-cross my legs beneath me.

"What brings you here so early this morning? You should be getting your rest on a Saturday." Lockharte says, and sets his pen down.

"I went to bed early last night. Foreign language test took a lot of energy out of me. But I can to ask you something." I say.

"Go on, my dear." he says. He takes his glasses off his face and blinks his old eyes at me.

"Yesterday, I met the Cutshall family. Their daughter is a freshman this year. Lynne."

"Yes, she is very bright. I had the pleasure of seeing her parents as well. They stopped by before they left for home," Lockharte says, "They were excellent students in their years here."

"So I've heard," I respond, and take a deep breath. "They said that they were good friends with my parents and the Vegas family as well."

Lockharte sets his face into a straight line. "They were, indeed."

"Headmaster it's--" I pause and look down at the floor, "It's been three months, and I've never even seen a picture of my mother. And I was in class last week, not really paying attention. And I realized that... I've forgotten her face. My father's too. I forgot how their voices sounded a long time ago. I know that you've told me stories about them and who they are but it's not the same. There aren't any pictures in your house of them or anything. I keep picturing these two people without faces or voices just carrying certain actions."

"And you've never cared to search for their faces from other sources? You're a resourceful girl, Celeste."

I shake my head. "I don't know it just... it didn't seem right for me to find them unless it came from you."

Lockharte's eyes are in a distant, sad place. I clasp my hands together and hope that he has something, anything for me. He takes a deep breath and disappears below his desk. I can hear a drawer being opened and closed before he appears again, and gazes at a small piece of paper. For a minute, he is another man in another place with another mind. He then pushes the paper to me, and I notice that it's a photo. With two people smiling.

I take the photo of the desk and hold it up to my face. There's a third person...a child, maybe two. My eyes, my hair, only short and curly. My mother does look like me, with her platinum hair and gray eyes. But now that I'm older I notice that I have my father's dimples and round face. Marcus Blackwood had brown hair and brilliant hazel eyes. But Nora...

Nora was beautiful.

She isn't looking at whoever was taking the photo. She instead gazes at the little girl and her husband. She looks as if she possesses the world in the palm of her hand, or the secret to what is referred to as the perfection of living. Nora Blackwood couldn't have asked for anything else, because she believed that she had everything; and it was enough.

I look back up at Lockharte, who sits with his hands laced on his chest. He gazes at the picture in with an aching heart. "I told you that you looked like her," he says, and turns his eyes to the fireplace, "Even from the time when you were a baby. It was the first thing your father said when you were born. 'She has Nora's eyes and fingers and soul.' Somehow Marcus knew... you had her soul. And you do. It's like I'm raising her all over again."

I give him a sad smile and lay the picture down on the desk. "It's actually starting to alarm me how much people say I'm like her."

Lockharte lets a lighthearted chuckle escape. "Don't be, my dear. She truly was incredible. Marcus was lucky I let him marry her."

We both laugh this time and I try to give the photo back to my grandfather. But he gazes at it for a few seconds, then pushes my hand away. "This one is yours. I have a hundred more like it. And I have enough memories stored away to never forget them. You need this more than I do."

I drop my hand and take a deep breath, glancing at the picture one last time. "Thank you," I whisper, "I still have something to ask you."

"Of course." Lockharte leans forward and slides his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

"Kate told me that you gave her a hint on the possible whereabouts of Colleen and her conspirators. That was classified information... why did you give it to her? Why would you want to help us?"

The Headmaster smiles. "Now whoever said that I wanted to help you? I believe that Miss Sanders found that information all on her own. I did nothing to help her; merely just asked for an educational source from our temporary library."

"You're playing games with me," I say, "Why?" I catch that mischievous glint in his eye before he quickly covers it up.

"I don't know what you mean, Celeste. Truly." Lockharte drums his index finger on the desk.

"You asked her about her experience with French. You told her to bring you a book that gives base to some type of headquarters in Paris. You don't just ironically say things like that when they have to do something with what a person is looking for."

"Do you not believe that some instances can be ironic?" Lockharte asks. I blink.

"Well, yes they can... but in this situation it just--"

"My dear girl, I couldn't give out that particular classified information if I wanted to. It is out of my hands completely."

"Yes, I know, sir, but--"

"So there is absolutely not reason that you should be accusing me of releasing such classified information, correct?"

"I..." I blink at him, trying to understand what he is trying to communicate. "So what you're telling me, is that the whole discovery thing with Kate was completely ironic? That she wasn't meant to figure out the code in that book?"

"Oh, now I told her that someone had vandalized that novel. Such a shame, it was quite interesting. Now that I come to think of it, she never delivered it to my office." Lockharte rubs his chin and glares at the fire as if it is at fault.

"Headmaster, I don't think--"

"What code were you speaking of, my dear?" He looks at me and puts on a curious expression. I blink again for what has to be the hundredth time. I really don't know if he is serious at this point or not.

"Nevermind, sir." I say, and look down at my lap. I wish that I had caught the small grin that he sends in my direction.

                                                                                  *******************

"So he just completely denied all of it? The hints he gave me weren't intentional? That seems a little off, right?" Kate says, gripping her coffee cup in between her palms. Four of us sit around a table in Espresso Express, all wearing the same expression of furrowed eyebrows and downward lips.

"The way he sounded when he was talking to Kate and I... it couldn't have been innocent like that. He's onto something. He has to be." Preston says, shaking his head. Joe is staring out the window, his fingers drumming on the table.

I shake my head to Kate's question. "I may have only been living with him for three months, but I know when he is up to something. He definitely is. He's trying to help us, even if it seems confusing." I say.

"How, though? All he has done is given us a phrase in French," Kate mutters, "We don't know what is there."

"Actually, we do," I say, and lean forward, "When Joe and I talked to the Cutshall's, they told us that Michael and Elaine Vegas stayed there for an extended amount of time. Lockharte must have known that, considering how close our families were. That's where it can't possibly be ironic."

"So you think that whatever Joe's parents did in Paris... it has to do with Colleen." Preston says. I shrug my shoulders.

"That's the only thing I can think of. We won't know until we find more information and get there." I say, but my eyes dart to Joe when he shakes his head slightly.

"How?" he asks, "There is no way Lockharte is going to let you all just pick up your bags and go to another country right when the year has already started. You're seniors; it's the most important year. Missing even a day at the Academy is harmful to all of you."

"So what do you suggest?" I ask, crossing my arms. Joe finally looks away from the windows and stares me down.

"You're not going, if that's what you're asking me." He says. Kate scoffs and turns to him.

"And why not?" She says. Joe looks at her out of the corner of his eye like she's a little animal that squeaks too much.

"Because, it could be dangerous. We don't know what is in Paris, and we don't know if it's safe for a couple of teenagers to deal with it. That is what the CIA is for." Joe says.

"So we're just gonna sit here and do nothing?" Preston says.

Joe shakes his head. "You three are." He glances at all of us. I furrow my eyebrows.

"No," I say, "No way."

Joe crosses his arms and looks at me. "I didn't even say anything."

"I don't care. I know what you're up to. You want to go alone and figure this all out by yourself. That's not gonna happen." I say.

"Celeste, it's my parents who went to Paris. I'm more qualified than any of you to go." Joe says, irritation chipping into his voice. I roll my eyes.

"Joe it was me who was kidnapped by Colleen and Jasper. More 'qualified' or not, we're not letting you go alone. You need us, and it's like you said: it's dangerous. You think that one person versus four makes this mission safer?" I tell him, crossing my arms and cocking my head to the side.

"Who said anything about a mission?" Joe says, his voice growing louder. I open my mouth to spit back at him, but Kate puts her hand up in the air.

"Can I get a refill please?" she calls to Carrie, who stands behind the counter writing something. She looks up and grins and pulls another mug down from a shelf and begins making Kate's third cup of coffee. Kate looks back and glares at both me and Joe. "You guys think that arguing is going to get us anywhere faster?" She says in a strained whisper. Joe and I glare at each other for half a second before relaxing back into our chairs.

I glance up when the bell at the front door rings, and a person wearing all black walks in, a hood covering their face from view. All four of us stare as the figure slowly makes their way up to the counter and taps it for Carrie's attention. I strain my ears to hear any conversation between them.

"Hi, honey, what can I get you?" Carrie says, all chipper. The individual in black mutters something that I can't hear. He slides a small cardboard box across the counter and says something else. Carrie blinks a few times, clearly confused. She then takes the box and unpacks it out of view from the four of us. She glances back up at the person, smiles, and nods her head, though she is still clearly disoriented. The individual in black then turns and leaves the store, just like that. As soon as he is out the door, Carrie looks over at us and turns back to her coffee machine.

"What was that about?" Kate whispers, his eyes still on every move that Carrie makes. The rest of us shake our heads.

"Maybe Carrie has a dealer?" Preston says, which gets a smack on the shoulder from Kate. We go quiet when Carrie hurries her way over to our table and sets Kate's refill in front of her.

"Here you are honey, another espresso." She says, her voice quieter than usual. She avoids eye contact as she sets the mug down and then quickly stalks away. Kate stares down at her drink for a long time before she takes a sip, then another, then another.

"Stressed?" I ask, and let a smile slip. Kate doesn't respond, only continues to chug the hot drink down. How is she not getting third degree burns?

The four of us dissolve into silence for a moment, each mind going to a different but similar place all the same. It is only five minutes before Kate has finished her third cup and sets down the mug, but then looks down at it again and does a double-take. "Guys." She says quietly. Preston, Joe, and I all glance at her. Preston leans over and tries to see what she is staring down at. When he sees, his eyes widen.

"Oh my god." he mutters, then looks straight at Kate, who looks at the coffee cup as if it's an exotic animal.

"What is it?" I ask, and slide the coffee cup towards me.

There's an inscription at the bottom of the cup.

974 Little Terrace Lane.

I mutter the address under my breath, then show the cup to the Joe. He stares at it for a moment and I see his lips mouth the words. "That's..." he says, "That's a street near where I live. It's here in Chesterfield."

I sit up straight and gasp. "You don't think--"

"It had to be him. There is no way it wasn't him." Kate says, tying her hair up into a bun.

"We should go there... now." Preston says, and grabs the keys to the jeep we came in off the counter. No one argues, and we all stand, drop cash on the counter, and hurry out of the coffee shop. We hurry to the car, which is parked a little ways down the street. The boys take the front seat and Kate and I take the back. Preston starts up the car and drives down the street immediately, taking Joe's directions.

We find ourselves driving through the single neighborhood that occupies Chesterfield. Preston speeds down the street until Joe says to take a left turn, and we find ourselves on Little Terrace Lane. "774," I say under my breath, and start counting the numbers on the mailboxes. I point out the right house and Preston comes to an abrupt stop in front of it.

The house isn't any different from any other on the street. It's small but comfortable with planted flowers in the front yard and a wreath on the door. "Do you think it's dangerous?" Kate asks.

"Can't be." I say, and jump out of the car before anyone can argue. I slowly make my way up to the front door and ring the doorbell. I glance back at the car and see everyone in the car looking on in anxious anticipation. I turn back when the door opens, and a little old man stands in front of me, staring at me blankly. I'm at a loss for words for a moment. "Um... hello." I finally say. The old man merely stares back, not one word escaping him. I avert his eyes and shove my hands in my pocket.

"I, uh... sorry... my friends and I were at the coffee shop in downtown and one of them had an address at the bottom of her cup. It was yours and we figured--" I stop talking when the man slams the door in my face. I blink and million times before turning back and throwing a look of confusion at the car. I merely receive three people shrugging, so I begin to walk back down the sidewalk.

But the front door opens again behind me and I look back over my shoulder. The old man is standing there again, his mouth set into a thin line. He holds an envelope in his hands. Without a single word, he holds it out to me. I hurry back up the sidewalk and gingerly take the envelope from his hands. I can't tell what is inside, but I look back at the man and offer a shy smile. "Thank you--" I say, but once again, the door is slammed in my face. I stand there for a few seconds, waiting for it to open again.

It doesn't.

When I get back in the car, the others stare at me. "What is it?" Kate asks as Preston begins driving back to the Academy. I shrug and gaze down at the envelope.

"I don't know if it's for us or not." I say.

"Oh, Celeste, that's the dumbest thing I think I've ever heard you say," Kate says, and snatches the envelope from my hands. I want to argue with her, but I instead shut my mouth and watch as she rips it open and stares down at its contents.

First, she pulls out a gigantic wad of $100 bills.

Then she pulls out five plane tickets. Joe curses from the front seat.

I take one from her and examine it. I then look up at the rearview mirror. Both boys are watching me. "It's to the Paris Le-Bourget Airport. All of them are." I say.

"Why are there five?" Kate asks, holding the extra pass.

"Maybe it's for Lockharte himself...?" I say, shaking my head.

"If it is then why would he be so cryptic about this entire situation?" she responds.

"We have to talk to him. He knew the entire time. He had to." Preston says, keeping his eyes on the road. I catch Joe's expression in the mirror. His eyes meet mine and he presses his lips into a thin line.

He's frowning, his fingers tapping the console. 

                                                                                ********************

When we get back to the Academy, Preston parks the car and we hurry to Lockharte's office. I don't bother to knock this time and instead burst through the door.

Lockharte isn't alone.

Seth sits in one of the chairs, staring at all four of us as we charge in. We all stop and stare, but I shake it off and hold up the money and the tickets. "You knew." I say. Lockharte cocks an eyebrow.

"I don't know what you mean." He says, and grins.

"Come on, there's no way--" Preston says, then pauses, "What is Seth doing here?"

Seth rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "Planning a vacation without me, were you?" He says, then glares straight at me. I feel color in my cheeks, and look down at my shoes. I hear him scoff and stand up, leaning against Lockharte's desk. Kate steps forward.

"Who was the man who delivered the coffee cup with the address in it?" she asks.

"Just a colleague of mine. You wouldn't know him." The Headmaster says, and leans back in his chair.

"And the old man?" I ask. "Who gave us the tickets and the money? Is he just a colleague too?"

"Distant cousin, actually. You don't share any blood with him, however."

I blink and shake my head, then go to lean against the wall. Unbelievable.

"So you knew the entire time?" Joe says, and comes to stand behind one of the chairs, bracing his hands on the corners. Lockharte looks at him and observes for a few seconds.

"Yes, I did," he says in all seriousness.

"Why," I say, "Why would you hide something like that? If you were helping us all along then why not just come straight out with it?"

My grandfather grins at all of us. "You're spies, are you not? Or at least training to be? Why not make it into an investigation and make it a little more interesting?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because we could be on borrowed time, or there's a serious threat against the Academy out there?" I lament and throw my hands up in the air. Lockharte merely grins.

"Well, I'm certainly proud you all figured it out."

Kate takes one of the empty chairs and sits in front of his desk. "So who is the fifth ticket for?" Seth scoffs and glares at the ceiling. Kate glances at him and drops her head. "Oh."

"Wait, no," I say, stepping forward, "You can't be serious."

"Why can't he be serious?" Seth asks, and crosses his arms.

"Because! You're--" I stop myself. I feel the tension in the room rising. I notice Joe stand up straight and glance between Seth and I.

"I'm what?" Seth asks, "I'm disabled? Dependent; helpless?"

"No, I didn't mean it like that--"

"Oh, sure you didn't." Seth says, nodding his head and narrowing his eyes. I avoid his glare at all costs.

"Seth..." Kate whispers, and looks between the two of us. She asks me a question with her eyes.

Later, I respond.

"Robert, what's going on?" Joe says, and takes a step to stand beside me, "Why are you helping us?" It sends a jolt of surprise through me when Joe refers to my grandfather by his first name, but then I remember that they're colleagues; they work together. Joe has every right to call him by his first name.

"This is what you all wanted, is it not?" He says, "To find Colleen and continue this investigation? To protect this Academy at all costs?"

"Yes, of course but--" I say, but I am cut off.

"Then I have every reason to support you. We all reach for the same goal. I'm merely helping you along."

Preston shakes his head. "But half of us aren't even legal adults yet. We can't just travel to another country by ourselves."

Lockharte cocks an eyebrow and laughs from his belly. "Oh my, how you all have changed since last year," He says, "And of course you can't travel alone. That's why I'm sending a supervisor with you." He looks straight at Joe. I catch Seth rolling his eyes.

"You want me--" Joe says, pointing at himself, "--to supervise them." He points at the rest of us.

"You're perfectly capable, in my opinion."

"Uh, I mean--"

"Nearly nineteen and a decade beyond your years, as far as I'm concerned." Lockharte interrupts. The room falls into silence for an excruciating amount of seconds.

"Why are you letting us do this?" I whisper, almost to myself. Everyone in the room has their eyes on me. Lockharte inhales deeply, then exhales. His expression suddenly takes on a serious manner.

"In all of my years at this Academy I have never had a group of young men and women who were more lucrative than you five. You all come from families with a good name and reputation, and you're all well-rounded in nearly every area that this Academy covers. And still, you all stand apart from one another in some special way. Whether it be intelligence, field work, defense, or medical uses; you all apply your own talents. You make a remarkable team. You remind me of the students that I sent to Woodthorne all those years ago, against my better judgement," The Headmaster's eyes dart to Joe, "Jacqueline Vegas her and friends, were some of my best students to ever attend this school.The Academy has not sent seniors on dangerous missions like this since then. Do not be mistaken; I wish more than anything that it wouldn't come to this, but you five have thrown yourself into an inescapable conflict. All of you are here for a reason, and I now put my utmost trust in you. You've proven that to me once before, and I believe that you can certainly do it again."

The room is silent as he makes eye contact with all five of us. None of know what to say, but we all look at each. There seems to be a mutual agreement. I look back at my grandfather. "We don't know anything," I say quietly, "Besides that Colleen is in Paris. Paris, Headmaster. One of the largest cities in the world."

"Nearly ten million square kilometers, correct." Lockharte says, as if it isn't an issue at all. I blink at him.

"That doesn't really help to narrow our search down... at all." Seth finally mutters.

"I know it doesn't, but you aren't alone. There is a CIA base in France that you will be staying close to. There is an agent there who is expecting your arrival. Her name is Ida Serman, a graduate of this Academy. She has information she can give you, and will assist you investigation while you're there." Lockharte responds, and shuffles through a few papers on his desk.

I collapse into the chair next to Kate and rub my forehead in disbelief. "This is real." I say in exasperation. Kate covers my other hand with her and gives me a comforting smile.

"Yes, my dear girl, it is very real. Your flight leaves late tomorrow night. I've arranged transportation for you." Lockharte announces and hands over a packet of papers. Joe takes them and starts to shuffle through before looking back up at the Headmaster, blinking a million times.

"How did you know we would figure this out in time for a flight that leaves tomorrow?" Preston asks.

"I didn't." Lockharte says casually, "Oh, another thing you may want to think about. It isn't very smart for me to communicate with you while you're away. You'll need to find someone who attends the school that you can trust to give you updates about your homebase."

"I can talk to Lynne," Kate suggests, "She can keep a secret."

"She would be a lovely resource. I would get on that quickly." Lockharte approves. I still don't have any words, and my grandfather notices it. He watches me for a few seconds before motioning towards the door of his office. "If you all wouldn't mind, I would like to speak to my granddaughter alone for a few minutes. I hope you will all excuse my shrewdness."

I glance up at him, but my friends all begin to shuffle out of the room quietly before I can complain. When I am the only one left in the room, Lockharte stands and comes to lean against his grand desk. I gaze up at him. He looks on at me as if I am only a child waiting to experience the world. "I do apologize for being so secretive with you. I'm sure you will come to understand why. I couldn't risk any of my superiors finding out our plans." he says quietly. I nod my head, then continue to stare straight ahead.

"Will you be alright?" He asks. Again, I nod and stand from my chair.

"I guess... I should thank you for helping us. I don't think we would've ever gotten anywhere if it weren't for you." I say, still a little dazed. Lockharte offers me a kind smile.

"I will always help you, even when you don't know I am doing so." He is still taller than me, despite his age. I spot the bright glint in his gray eyes that probably was always there once, when he was younger. I nod my head and swallow, taking in a shaky breath.

"So we leave tomorrow? That's fast," I say, "I don't know if I can plan all my outfits in the timeframe."

My grandfather chuckles and pats me on the cheek. "I don't think you'll have any issues with it, my girl. You're quite resourceful."

I smile down at my shoes. "Thank you." My smile disappears.

"What is it?" he asks me. I hesitate to answer for fear of embarrassment.

"I'm afraid of this," I confess, "I haven't had to deal with... what happened in months. And now I'm facing it head on. Slightly terrifying."

Lockharte puts his hands behind his back and tilts his head. "Listen to me," he remarks, "And take these words to heart: What you are afraid to do is a clear indication of the next thing you need to do."

I look up and meet his old eyes. I catch the twinkle in them. "Did you come up with that?" I ask.

"No," he grins, "I read it in a essay once. Ralph Emerson; quite an old chap. Wonderful essayist, however."

I laugh and narrow my eyes. He returns it with a light-hearted chuckle. Without thinking, I throw my arms around him. "Thank you," I whisper. He doesn't return my embrace at first, but he pats me on the back gingerly.

"Be brave, my dear girl," he says, "You're meant for it."