Page 47 of Spies Don't Fall for Their
“Second,”Iraise my shoulders in a shrug, “I’mjust naturally gifted at it.”I’mnot bragging.Ididn’t earn it— it’s just part of me. “Irealized it was a talent whenItried over and over to teach foster siblings whatIhad learned.Theyhad the same need for it thatIdid, but no matter how muchIpracticed with them and pointed things out, they never got as good at it asIdid.
“Andthe third thing is training.OnceIrealizedIhad a skill for it,IdecidedIshould get as much training as possible.Iwanted to master it.Tobe the best.”
Ledgergrins at me. “Ofcourse, you wanted to be the best.”
“Well, yeah,”Isay. “Didyou thinkIdidn’t start wanting that until we met?Itake a bite of my dessert, reveling in the taste of chocolate and orange mixed.I’vehad packagedJaffacakes before, and they’re nowhere near the experience of having thereal thing.
Hechuckles. “Notfor a second.”Hetakes a bite of his dessert, too, then asks, “So, theCIAtrained you?”
“Well, yes.ButIwas talking about college.”
“Letme guess.Justlike colleges send scouts to high schools to find students good at sports, a spy college sent out a scout to find high school students good at reading body language and offered you a scholarship.”
He’schuckling, andIlaugh, too. “Thatwould’ve been a much easier way.Butno,Itend to do things the hard way.Igrew up inQuicksand,Oregon, but the momentIturned eighteen and graduated from high school— which happened two weeks apart—Iwas out of there.Igot a bunch of crappy jobs and lived in crappy apartments, starting out inColoradoand moving my way eastward.Witheach new place,Itried to become a new version of myself.Abetter version.”
“Ahh.Anemotional runner,Isee.”
“Oneof the best.”
“I’dexpect nothing less.”
“So, one day,I’mworking at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant in northernOhiowith my awful boss, when he asks, ‘Whyaren’t you in college?’ in his deep, rattling voice.Hesaid, ‘You’rea smart girl.Someonein your situation can get into college and get a scholarship.Maybeeven a grant.Doit.Don’tspend your life working in dung heaps like this.’
“And, okay, he wasn’t so much awful a boss that day, because it hadn’t even occurred to me before that it was even remotely a possibility.ButIlooked into it, andIdecided to go all in.Tobecome a new person.Acollegeperson.Myboss wasn’t wrong—Iwas a smart girl.AndI’dalways wanted to be an intelligence operative whenIgrew up.Ijust didn’t know how to get there.
“Anyway,Ihad taken theSATduring my junior year of high school and had gotten a great score, soIapplied and got a full scholarship to theUniversityofMichigan, including housing and a food plan.Ithelped that my income was minuscule and as a foster kid, there were no parents’ incomes to consider when it came to scholarships and grants.Thefood plan only covered one meal a day, butImade it work.”
“Letme guess: you put an extra apple, orange, or banana on your tray, then pocketed it for later.”
Inod. “Acarton of milk is a good one, too.”
“AndthenZiplocksfor the squishier stuff so you won’t get your pockets dirty.”
Ismile just picturing this man in college. “Andgoing to every club, lecture, and social event that promised food, even if you’re not interested in the topic.”
Henods. “Yougot it down.”
“Yeah, it was nice.Itwas the first time in my life whenIcould focus on improving myself, instead of just surviving.”
He’sgiving me a look that’s baffling me.I’mnot quite sure how to interpret it, which makes me as uncomfortable as the look does.SoIbarrel on. “AndIdid really well in school.”
Ledgerholds out a fist and says, “Competitivenatures for the win.”
Ibump his fist but say, “Ibet school waseasy for you.Youjust sailed right through it, even though you were focused on friends and fun, right?Ihad to work so freaking hard.”
“Hey,”Ledgersays, a bit defensively, “Imight have made sure to squeeze in fun, butIworked hard, too.Ihave three older brothers who were already being all kinds of impressiveandIhave a twin who was actively trying to best me in everything.Thatpiles on all kinds of pressure.”
MaybeIdon’t give him enough credit.Ikind of always assume that fun is the number one priority for him, but maybe it isn’t.Huh.Thingsjust keep rearranging in my head to make room for new information about this intriguing man.
Iam studying him, wondering how many other things about himIgot wrong, when he says, “Wait.TheCIAdoesn’t recruit from theUniversityofMichigan.Howdid they find you?”
“Oh,”Isay. “Ididn’t stay there.Towardthe beginning of my sophomore year, my mom passed away.Ihadn’t seen or talked to her in a lot of years, butIdon’t know.Itstill hit me hard.Thingsgot tough, andIthought about dropping out.”Igive him a little smile. “Iguess the emotional runner in me activated.Luckily,Ihad an academic advisor who saw through the storyIwas telling her, saw the kinds of gradesIwas getting, and suggested thatIchange colleges instead of dropping out.
“Shehelped me do everything to get accepted as a transfer student to theUniversityofVirginia.Ithink that’s whereIneeded to be.Plus, itisa college theCIArecruits from.Ithrived there, and it was life-changing for me.EspeciallywhenItookNonverbalCommunicationandBodyLanguage.Myprofessor was a recruiter for theCIA, andIwas his star student.Heturned in my name, and theCIAapproached me whileIwas still in college.”
Ledgersmiles at me. “AndI’mguessing that being an intelligence operative has given the emotional runner in you exactly what you need.Youcan be a different person and run to different places, yet still come back home each time.”
Inod slowly, so impressed that he gets it.Noone ever gets it.Andthe thing is,Ledgerdoesn’t only understand things that he’s experienced—Idoubt he’s an emotional runner himself— he just seems to keep listening and asking questions until he understands.Butthe most amazing part is thatIdon’t feel judged by him for any of it.Hejust accepts me.
