Perfect Cover by Jennifer Lynn Barnes
Ends? What ends? If things had gone according to plan, I’d more or less trashed their system. I’d also downloaded all of their encrypted files, so really…
“The files.” My mouth thought faster than my brain did.
“Did you decode them?” If she was looking for a way to distract me from the voice I had most definitely recognized, she’d found it. I wasn’t sure which answer I was hoping for, but it mattered to me. A yes meant that we’d be able to know for sure if any other aliases had been compromised. It would also give me the chance to poke around in whatever program they’d been using to hack the CIA, and the thought had me practically salivating. On the other hand, a yes might also mean that Chloe had somehow decoded them, and despite the fact that she’d rescued me (however inadvertently) from impending postkiss doom, the thought of Chloe decoding my files made me want to punch something. If, on the other hand, the answer to my question was a no, I might actually get the chance to decode the files myself.
“The Guys Upstairs took care of the decode,” Chloe said.
The Big Guys. Aka Jack’s freaking uncle. I had to wonder—what did that say about the Big Guys? The law firm was a family business, so much so that Jack had his own key. If one of our superiors was part of that family, why did he need me to go in and plant the bug?
I didn’t mull over the questions; they were so enormous in my mind that they pretty much mulled over me. Chloe whipped her car into a parking space, and we made our way into the school, to which Chloe had her own set of keys.
“The perks of working for the government,” I said, my heart only half in it, as the rest of it was still being mulled.
Chloe smirked. “Our faculty sponsor is Mr. J,” she said. “I told him we needed keys, and he gave them to me and told me not to tell anyone. I swear, that’s one vice-principal who worships cheerleaders.”
That was so totally wrong. There had to be something highly illegal (or at least against school board mandates) about giving keys to the school to teenage cheerleaders.
Then again, this was Bayport, the land of evil law firms and CIA agents with questionable connections and boys I’d kissed who I shouldn’t have. In the scheme of things, everything was relative.
Chloe and I went to the Quad through the locker room, and five minutes later, we were in the main room, and summaries from the decoded files were on the larger-than-life flat-screen. We sat in silence for a full five minutes, taking in the reports and working them over in our tech-savvy minds. This was probably the closest Chloe and I would ever come to bonding.
“Huh,” I said finally. “So that’s how they did it.”
“They had an inside tech source with low-security clearance who opened a back door for them, and since they designed the beta version of the security program, they were able to belly up to the rest of the system.” Chloe blew a strand of highlighted hair out of her face. “That’s totally cheating.”
I had to agree—with a freebie entry into part of the system and knowledge of the way the whole thing was set up, breaking the newer codes wasn’t that impressive. Hacking is like finding your way through a labyrinth, and those Infotech weasels had a tour guide and a map.
I found myself looking at Chloe out of the corners of my eyes. First the bonding, and now complete Toby-Chloe agreement. What was the world coming to?
“So what now?” I asked.
Chloe shrugged. “Now we let the big guys do what they do.”
“And that would be…?”
That was the exact moment when the techie bonding ended. “What do you think?” she said. “They’ll make some arrests, reconfigure the security system, and try to figure out a way to implicate Peyton as the conduit between Heath Shannon and Infotech.”
From the way Chloe said the word try, I got the feeling that pinning anything on the law firm might prove difficult. It more or less figured. I mean, every group of cheerleading superspies has to have their archenemy, right?
If only I hadn’t kissed the archenemy’s heir apparent. Or punched him in the stomach. Or led Chloe to believe that my lips had never touched his. Or found out that our archenemy and our big boss might be one and the same.
If only, I thought, I hadn’t enjoyed doing almost all of the above.
“Are we done here?” I asked. Our case was over—the operatives were safe, Heath Shannon was in custody, and Infotech had been shut down indefinitely. Add to that the fact that I’d just bugged Peyton and ignore what I’d discovered about the Voice, and I was going to go out on a limb and call this operation a success. That said, I, for one, had no burning desire to spend any more time than necessary inside Bayport High. For most of my high school existence, I’d made it my mission in life to spend as little time inside these hallowed halls as possible. Go Bayport.
“Got someplace better to be?” Chloe asked.
“It’s been a long night,” I said, unimpressed by her scoffing. “Need I remind you that I xeroxed my butt to plant the bug at Peyton?” I gave Chloe a look of my own. “Or that for some godforsaken reason, I’m wearing a thong?”
Oh, the indignity of it all.
“Trust me,” I said. “You do not want to mess with me right now.”
Chloe, showing a remarkable amount of restraint, turned off the television, locked down the Quad, and drove me home. In a move worthy of an evil genius, she exacted her revenge for my “don’t mess with me” spiel by playing bubblegum pop music full blast the entire way.
Point, Chloe.
As she pulled up to my house, she smiled sweetly. “Don’t forget,” she said. “Tomorrow’s a game day. You should probably listen to the playlist tonight. You don’t want to look like a complete spaz on the field.”
I translated her tone to mean that looking like a partial spaz was the most I could hope for. Anxious to get away from both Chloe and the “music” in the car, I reached for the door, but Chloe spoke again.
“Oh, and by the way,” she said. “Your little brother said to tell you that you greatly underestimate his incredible appeal to the fairer sex. I think the twins were putting ideas in his head.”
I was going to kill Noah. And the twins. And possibly Chloe. It would be therapeutic, really.
I opened the car door.
“Sweet dreams,” Chloe said.
I came this close to telling her I’d made out with Jack, but I didn’t. I was almost positive I could take her in the cat-fight that would ensue, but then we’d be one short for our halftime performance, and my head was going to explode if I had to memorize a new formation.
I walked up to my front door, and when I reached for the doorknob, the door flew inward. Noah stood there, smiling at me.
“Ask me how my night was,” he said.
I looked over my shoulder. Chloe was gone, but wherever she was, I was positive she was smirking in victory.
“Toby, just ask me,” Noah ordered. “Or better yet, touch me.”
“Noah, I’m not going to—”
“Just touch me.”
I reached my hand out to thwap some sense into him, but he jumped back. “Careful,” he said. “Don’t burn yourself, ’cause I’m on fiiiiiiiiiiire!”
And then he broke into a victory dance, moonwalk and all.
When I got my hands on them, Brittany and Tiffany were dead girls.
CHAPTER 34
Code Word: Halftime
“Hello, girls.”
This time, I had my “good morning, Charlie” impulses well under control, but really, my response had nothing to do with control and indeed nothing even to do with the fact that the cheerleading uniform I was wearing was highly uncomfortable. It had everything to do with the fact that hearing the Voice again sent me flashing back to that night, to the kiss, to everything.
John. It’s Alan. I need to talk to you. It’s about Jack.
“I know you girls have a big game today, so I won’t keep you, but we wanted to express our sincere appreciation for your work on this case. Heath Shannon is currently in custody and has agreed
to provide us with information on his terrorist contacts in exchange for a light sentencing.”
I noticed that there was no mention of Heath Shannon similarly betraying Peyton, Kaufman, and Gray, which I took as signifying that somehow, Mr. Playboy found the law firm more intimidating and potentially lethal than his terrorist contacts. Try that for mind-boggling.
John. It’s Alan. I need to talk to you. It’s about Jack.
“Infotech has been effectively shut down. Coincidentally enough, they’ve also had a major turnover in management. Apparently, several of their lead executives have fled the country.”
Given Heath’s decision, I wondered what the executives were more afraid of: the government or Peyton’s undoubtedly unpleasant methods for tying up loose ends.
“Toby.”
The Voice spoke my name, and I bit back the urge to speak back, to yell out that I knew who he was and to demand to know why he wanted to talk about Jack.
“The bug you planted at Peyton has been up and operational for the past two days. Though we don’t expect it to last indefinitely, it will be invaluable until we can find an alternative means of collecting intel inside the firm.”
An alternative means like, perhaps, being related to the guys who own it?
Tara gave me a look that told me I should reply, and though I managed to refrain from voicing my silent question, I couldn’t stop a smart-mouthed one from leaving my lips instead. “Does that mean I get a gold star?”
The Voice didn’t show a single sign of chuckling. “It means,” he said, “that we’ll keep you.”
I hadn’t known that not keeping me was even an option. It was a testament to how far I’d come in the past couple of days that I somehow found the idea of not being on the Squad anymore incredibly aversive.
“We’ve analyzed the information that you confiscated from Heath Shannon,” the Voice continued, and I tried not to think of what exactly that “confiscation” had entailed.
“And we’ve reassigned our operatives accordingly. Any information Peyton got from these hacks is now obsolete.”
We’d stopped the metaphorical sickness from spreading. We’d assessed the damage, and we’d treated the symptoms. To put it in cheerleading terms, we’d gone, we’d fought, and we’d won. And because I’d had the words to our cheers and chants burned into my cranial region by that blasted iPod, I knew for a fact that after the Bayport Lions made big with the go-fight-win, the first thing we did was do it again.
And now for the words I never thought I’d say: Go Bayport.
“As always, girls, we’ll be in touch.” The Voice paused slightly, and I waited for another cryptic announcement.
“Good luck with your game.”
And then, there was silence.
So that’s it. My first mission. I broke a code that sent Brooke and Zee into the line of fire (literally) in Libya. I hacked Infotech’s secured system, acquired their files, destroyed their system, and helped the guys upstairs safeguard their system against future attacks. With Lucy’s help, I took down a freelance heartthrob/operative and retrieved the stolen data. I seduced the school’s most eligible bachelor, infiltrated an evil law firm, and bugged it like a pro. I found out that one of our superiors was more than he appeared, and I wore hideously uncomfortable boots and indecently short skirts. I got Stage Sixed, became one of those girls, photocopied my butt, and partook in what, in all honesty, was my very first kiss. And then I punched the guy and ran.
All in all, it wasn’t a bad showing, except, perhaps, for the last part.
As the ten of us left the Quad and filed out onto the football field, I found myself at the center of conversation. The twins combined their dating expertise to conclude (in the absence of any knowledge about the kiss) that I was sending Jack mixed signals. Thank you, Captain Obvious. Zee, after dissecting Jack’s psyche a bit more, told me that, if anything, I’d increase my chances with him by playing the intrigue card.
I tried to tell them that I wanted nothing to do with him, but for some strange reason, nobody believed me. I also couldn’t convince them to change the topic of conversation, even as we took our positions on the sidelines. We’d safeguarded national security and captured a playboy who’d ratted out terrorists, our Squad captain now owed her life to a bulletproof push-up bra, and the first football game of the year was officially starting, but somehow, my alleged love life was still the topic of conversation.
That’s pretty much how my first mission concluded. I still didn’t know anything about Jack’s uncle, or about why the CIA needed cheerleaders to infiltrate Peyton, Kaufman, and Gray when Peyton blood ran in one of their own. I didn’t know what “Uncle Alan” wanted with Jack. I didn’t even know what I wanted with Jack.
That’s almost how my first mission ended, anyway. There was one other tiny thing.
“You ready for this, Toby?” Brooke asked me an hour later, in a tone that suggested I probably wasn’t.
I’d just spent a record amount of time on the sidelines, cheering and chanting with a huge, fake smile on my face, and she was still doubting me.
“Brooke, it’s a halftime routine. It’s not rocket science.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
“And now, for your pleasure, the nationally recognized heart of Bayport—the Bayport High Varsity Spirit Squad!”
The announcer’s voice rumbled out of the loudspeakers, and the crowd burst into applause, hoots, and hollers (in that order).
We took our positions on the field. I ignored the way my cheerleading skirt rubbed uncomfortably against my legs. I thought about my last mission and my next one and the importance of never letting anyone see more than you wanted them to see.
I smiled.
“Ready? Okay!”
“B to the A to the Y to the Port…”
It was official: there was no turning back.
If you’d told me at the beginning of my sophomore year that I was going to become a government operative, I would have thought you were crazy, but if you’d told me I was destined to become a cheerleader, I would have had you committed, no questions asked. Then again, if you’d told me right after our halftime performance that our second mission would be more lethal, more scandalous, and more filled with kisses than the first, I wouldn’t have believed you.
It just goes to show how wrong I can be, because as I cheered, my smile forcing the world to view me as nothing more than a girl in a skirt, the beginnings of my second mission, more dangerous than I could have imagined, were already headed my way.
“Go, fight, win! We’ll beat you again. BAYPORT!”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
More than anything else I’ve written, this book was a work of revision, so I owe a great deal of The Squad to my wonderful editor, Krista Marino. Thank you for the suggestions, the questions, and making me work hard, book after book. Thanks also to my agent, Elizabeth Harding, for believing in this series as a series; to my mother, Marsha Barnes, for reading multiple drafts, laughing so hard she cried, and being on hand for late-night phone calls of the midrevision freak-out variety; and to Neha Mahajan, for comments, support, and loving Jack. You guys are the best.
I’d also like to thank my family, who are without question my biggest fans; my readers, whose emails, reviews, and comments never fail to brighten my day; my friends at both Yale and Cambridge (especially Mike Lombardo), who let me babble on about cheerleading secret agents without ever giving me so much as a single weird look; and Chelsea Render, who knows how to bring out my inner spy.
Finally, I’d like to give a nod to anyone who’s ever been underestimated, whether or not you were wearing a cheerleading skirt at the time. This book is for you.
Jennifer Lynn Barnes earned a bachelor’s degree from Yale University and a master’s from Cambridge University. A former competitive cheerleader, she was named an All-American Cheerleader by the National Cheerleading Association in 1997. She can neither confirm nor deny any experience she may or may not have had as a secret agent, but she
can tell you that she’s the author of three other teen novels: Golden, Tattoo, and Platinum, as well as The Squad: Perfect Cover’s sequel, The Squad: Killer Spirit. Jennifer wrote her first book when she was still a teenager, and she is currently hard at work on her next. Visit her online at www.jenniferlynnbarnes.com.
Toby Klein is ready to bring it.
ALSO BY JENNIFER LYNN BARNES
GOLDEN
TATTOO
PLATINUM
THE SQUAD: KILLER SPIRIT
Published by Laurel-Leaf an imprint of Random House Children’s Books a division of Random House, Inc. New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2008 by Jennifer Lynn Barnes
All rights reserved.
Laurel-Leaf and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
www.randomhouse.com/teens
Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at www.randomhouse.com/teachers
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Barnes, Jennifer (Jennifer Lynn).
The squad / Jennifer Lynn Barnes.
p. cm.
Summary: High school sophomore Toby Klein enjoys computer hacking and wearing combat boots, so she thinks it is a joke when she is invited to join the cheerleading squad but soon learns cheering is just a cover for an elite group of government operatives known as the squad.
[1. Spies—Fiction. 2. Cheerleading—Fiction. 3. High schools—Fiction. 4. Schools—Fiction. 5. Computer hackers—Fiction. 6. Humorous stories.] I. Title.
PZ7.B26225Sqa 2008
[Fic]—dc22
2007009352
“The files.” My mouth thought faster than my brain did.
“Did you decode them?” If she was looking for a way to distract me from the voice I had most definitely recognized, she’d found it. I wasn’t sure which answer I was hoping for, but it mattered to me. A yes meant that we’d be able to know for sure if any other aliases had been compromised. It would also give me the chance to poke around in whatever program they’d been using to hack the CIA, and the thought had me practically salivating. On the other hand, a yes might also mean that Chloe had somehow decoded them, and despite the fact that she’d rescued me (however inadvertently) from impending postkiss doom, the thought of Chloe decoding my files made me want to punch something. If, on the other hand, the answer to my question was a no, I might actually get the chance to decode the files myself.
“The Guys Upstairs took care of the decode,” Chloe said.
The Big Guys. Aka Jack’s freaking uncle. I had to wonder—what did that say about the Big Guys? The law firm was a family business, so much so that Jack had his own key. If one of our superiors was part of that family, why did he need me to go in and plant the bug?
I didn’t mull over the questions; they were so enormous in my mind that they pretty much mulled over me. Chloe whipped her car into a parking space, and we made our way into the school, to which Chloe had her own set of keys.
“The perks of working for the government,” I said, my heart only half in it, as the rest of it was still being mulled.
Chloe smirked. “Our faculty sponsor is Mr. J,” she said. “I told him we needed keys, and he gave them to me and told me not to tell anyone. I swear, that’s one vice-principal who worships cheerleaders.”
That was so totally wrong. There had to be something highly illegal (or at least against school board mandates) about giving keys to the school to teenage cheerleaders.
Then again, this was Bayport, the land of evil law firms and CIA agents with questionable connections and boys I’d kissed who I shouldn’t have. In the scheme of things, everything was relative.
Chloe and I went to the Quad through the locker room, and five minutes later, we were in the main room, and summaries from the decoded files were on the larger-than-life flat-screen. We sat in silence for a full five minutes, taking in the reports and working them over in our tech-savvy minds. This was probably the closest Chloe and I would ever come to bonding.
“Huh,” I said finally. “So that’s how they did it.”
“They had an inside tech source with low-security clearance who opened a back door for them, and since they designed the beta version of the security program, they were able to belly up to the rest of the system.” Chloe blew a strand of highlighted hair out of her face. “That’s totally cheating.”
I had to agree—with a freebie entry into part of the system and knowledge of the way the whole thing was set up, breaking the newer codes wasn’t that impressive. Hacking is like finding your way through a labyrinth, and those Infotech weasels had a tour guide and a map.
I found myself looking at Chloe out of the corners of my eyes. First the bonding, and now complete Toby-Chloe agreement. What was the world coming to?
“So what now?” I asked.
Chloe shrugged. “Now we let the big guys do what they do.”
“And that would be…?”
That was the exact moment when the techie bonding ended. “What do you think?” she said. “They’ll make some arrests, reconfigure the security system, and try to figure out a way to implicate Peyton as the conduit between Heath Shannon and Infotech.”
From the way Chloe said the word try, I got the feeling that pinning anything on the law firm might prove difficult. It more or less figured. I mean, every group of cheerleading superspies has to have their archenemy, right?
If only I hadn’t kissed the archenemy’s heir apparent. Or punched him in the stomach. Or led Chloe to believe that my lips had never touched his. Or found out that our archenemy and our big boss might be one and the same.
If only, I thought, I hadn’t enjoyed doing almost all of the above.
“Are we done here?” I asked. Our case was over—the operatives were safe, Heath Shannon was in custody, and Infotech had been shut down indefinitely. Add to that the fact that I’d just bugged Peyton and ignore what I’d discovered about the Voice, and I was going to go out on a limb and call this operation a success. That said, I, for one, had no burning desire to spend any more time than necessary inside Bayport High. For most of my high school existence, I’d made it my mission in life to spend as little time inside these hallowed halls as possible. Go Bayport.
“Got someplace better to be?” Chloe asked.
“It’s been a long night,” I said, unimpressed by her scoffing. “Need I remind you that I xeroxed my butt to plant the bug at Peyton?” I gave Chloe a look of my own. “Or that for some godforsaken reason, I’m wearing a thong?”
Oh, the indignity of it all.
“Trust me,” I said. “You do not want to mess with me right now.”
Chloe, showing a remarkable amount of restraint, turned off the television, locked down the Quad, and drove me home. In a move worthy of an evil genius, she exacted her revenge for my “don’t mess with me” spiel by playing bubblegum pop music full blast the entire way.
Point, Chloe.
As she pulled up to my house, she smiled sweetly. “Don’t forget,” she said. “Tomorrow’s a game day. You should probably listen to the playlist tonight. You don’t want to look like a complete spaz on the field.”
I translated her tone to mean that looking like a partial spaz was the most I could hope for. Anxious to get away from both Chloe and the “music” in the car, I reached for the door, but Chloe spoke again.
“Oh, and by the way,” she said. “Your little brother said to tell you that you greatly underestimate his incredible appeal to the fairer sex. I think the twins were putting ideas in his head.”
I was going to kill Noah. And the twins. And possibly Chloe. It would be therapeutic, really.
I opened the car door.
“Sweet dreams,” Chloe said.
I came this close to telling her I’d made out with Jack, but I didn’t. I was almost positive I could take her in the cat-fight that would ensue, but then we’d be one short for our halftime performance, and my head was going to explode if I had to memorize a new formation.
I walked up to my front door, and when I reached for the doorknob, the door flew inward. Noah stood there, smiling at me.
“Ask me how my night was,” he said.
I looked over my shoulder. Chloe was gone, but wherever she was, I was positive she was smirking in victory.
“Toby, just ask me,” Noah ordered. “Or better yet, touch me.”
“Noah, I’m not going to—”
“Just touch me.”
I reached my hand out to thwap some sense into him, but he jumped back. “Careful,” he said. “Don’t burn yourself, ’cause I’m on fiiiiiiiiiiire!”
And then he broke into a victory dance, moonwalk and all.
When I got my hands on them, Brittany and Tiffany were dead girls.
CHAPTER 34
Code Word: Halftime
“Hello, girls.”
This time, I had my “good morning, Charlie” impulses well under control, but really, my response had nothing to do with control and indeed nothing even to do with the fact that the cheerleading uniform I was wearing was highly uncomfortable. It had everything to do with the fact that hearing the Voice again sent me flashing back to that night, to the kiss, to everything.
John. It’s Alan. I need to talk to you. It’s about Jack.
“I know you girls have a big game today, so I won’t keep you, but we wanted to express our sincere appreciation for your work on this case. Heath Shannon is currently in custody and has agreed
I noticed that there was no mention of Heath Shannon similarly betraying Peyton, Kaufman, and Gray, which I took as signifying that somehow, Mr. Playboy found the law firm more intimidating and potentially lethal than his terrorist contacts. Try that for mind-boggling.
John. It’s Alan. I need to talk to you. It’s about Jack.
“Infotech has been effectively shut down. Coincidentally enough, they’ve also had a major turnover in management. Apparently, several of their lead executives have fled the country.”
Given Heath’s decision, I wondered what the executives were more afraid of: the government or Peyton’s undoubtedly unpleasant methods for tying up loose ends.
“Toby.”
The Voice spoke my name, and I bit back the urge to speak back, to yell out that I knew who he was and to demand to know why he wanted to talk about Jack.
“The bug you planted at Peyton has been up and operational for the past two days. Though we don’t expect it to last indefinitely, it will be invaluable until we can find an alternative means of collecting intel inside the firm.”
An alternative means like, perhaps, being related to the guys who own it?
Tara gave me a look that told me I should reply, and though I managed to refrain from voicing my silent question, I couldn’t stop a smart-mouthed one from leaving my lips instead. “Does that mean I get a gold star?”
The Voice didn’t show a single sign of chuckling. “It means,” he said, “that we’ll keep you.”
I hadn’t known that not keeping me was even an option. It was a testament to how far I’d come in the past couple of days that I somehow found the idea of not being on the Squad anymore incredibly aversive.
“We’ve analyzed the information that you confiscated from Heath Shannon,” the Voice continued, and I tried not to think of what exactly that “confiscation” had entailed.
“And we’ve reassigned our operatives accordingly. Any information Peyton got from these hacks is now obsolete.”
We’d stopped the metaphorical sickness from spreading. We’d assessed the damage, and we’d treated the symptoms. To put it in cheerleading terms, we’d gone, we’d fought, and we’d won. And because I’d had the words to our cheers and chants burned into my cranial region by that blasted iPod, I knew for a fact that after the Bayport Lions made big with the go-fight-win, the first thing we did was do it again.
And now for the words I never thought I’d say: Go Bayport.
“As always, girls, we’ll be in touch.” The Voice paused slightly, and I waited for another cryptic announcement.
“Good luck with your game.”
And then, there was silence.
So that’s it. My first mission. I broke a code that sent Brooke and Zee into the line of fire (literally) in Libya. I hacked Infotech’s secured system, acquired their files, destroyed their system, and helped the guys upstairs safeguard their system against future attacks. With Lucy’s help, I took down a freelance heartthrob/operative and retrieved the stolen data. I seduced the school’s most eligible bachelor, infiltrated an evil law firm, and bugged it like a pro. I found out that one of our superiors was more than he appeared, and I wore hideously uncomfortable boots and indecently short skirts. I got Stage Sixed, became one of those girls, photocopied my butt, and partook in what, in all honesty, was my very first kiss. And then I punched the guy and ran.
All in all, it wasn’t a bad showing, except, perhaps, for the last part.
As the ten of us left the Quad and filed out onto the football field, I found myself at the center of conversation. The twins combined their dating expertise to conclude (in the absence of any knowledge about the kiss) that I was sending Jack mixed signals. Thank you, Captain Obvious. Zee, after dissecting Jack’s psyche a bit more, told me that, if anything, I’d increase my chances with him by playing the intrigue card.
I tried to tell them that I wanted nothing to do with him, but for some strange reason, nobody believed me. I also couldn’t convince them to change the topic of conversation, even as we took our positions on the sidelines. We’d safeguarded national security and captured a playboy who’d ratted out terrorists, our Squad captain now owed her life to a bulletproof push-up bra, and the first football game of the year was officially starting, but somehow, my alleged love life was still the topic of conversation.
That’s pretty much how my first mission concluded. I still didn’t know anything about Jack’s uncle, or about why the CIA needed cheerleaders to infiltrate Peyton, Kaufman, and Gray when Peyton blood ran in one of their own. I didn’t know what “Uncle Alan” wanted with Jack. I didn’t even know what I wanted with Jack.
That’s almost how my first mission ended, anyway. There was one other tiny thing.
“You ready for this, Toby?” Brooke asked me an hour later, in a tone that suggested I probably wasn’t.
I’d just spent a record amount of time on the sidelines, cheering and chanting with a huge, fake smile on my face, and she was still doubting me.
“Brooke, it’s a halftime routine. It’s not rocket science.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
“And now, for your pleasure, the nationally recognized heart of Bayport—the Bayport High Varsity Spirit Squad!”
The announcer’s voice rumbled out of the loudspeakers, and the crowd burst into applause, hoots, and hollers (in that order).
We took our positions on the field. I ignored the way my cheerleading skirt rubbed uncomfortably against my legs. I thought about my last mission and my next one and the importance of never letting anyone see more than you wanted them to see.
I smiled.
“Ready? Okay!”
“B to the A to the Y to the Port…”
It was official: there was no turning back.
If you’d told me at the beginning of my sophomore year that I was going to become a government operative, I would have thought you were crazy, but if you’d told me I was destined to become a cheerleader, I would have had you committed, no questions asked. Then again, if you’d told me right after our halftime performance that our second mission would be more lethal, more scandalous, and more filled with kisses than the first, I wouldn’t have believed you.
It just goes to show how wrong I can be, because as I cheered, my smile forcing the world to view me as nothing more than a girl in a skirt, the beginnings of my second mission, more dangerous than I could have imagined, were already headed my way.
“Go, fight, win! We’ll beat you again. BAYPORT!”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
More than anything else I’ve written, this book was a work of revision, so I owe a great deal of The Squad to my wonderful editor, Krista Marino. Thank you for the suggestions, the questions, and making me work hard, book after book. Thanks also to my agent, Elizabeth Harding, for believing in this series as a series; to my mother, Marsha Barnes, for reading multiple drafts, laughing so hard she cried, and being on hand for late-night phone calls of the midrevision freak-out variety; and to Neha Mahajan, for comments, support, and loving Jack. You guys are the best.
I’d also like to thank my family, who are without question my biggest fans; my readers, whose emails, reviews, and comments never fail to brighten my day; my friends at both Yale and Cambridge (especially Mike Lombardo), who let me babble on about cheerleading secret agents without ever giving me so much as a single weird look; and Chelsea Render, who knows how to bring out my inner spy.
Finally, I’d like to give a nod to anyone who’s ever been underestimated, whether or not you were wearing a cheerleading skirt at the time. This book is for you.
Jennifer Lynn Barnes earned a bachelor’s degree from Yale University and a master’s from Cambridge University. A former competitive cheerleader, she was named an All-American Cheerleader by the National Cheerleading Association in 1997. She can neither confirm nor deny any experience she may or may not have had as a secret agent, but she
Toby Klein is ready to bring it.
ALSO BY JENNIFER LYNN BARNES
GOLDEN
TATTOO
PLATINUM
THE SQUAD: KILLER SPIRIT
Published by Laurel-Leaf an imprint of Random House Children’s Books a division of Random House, Inc. New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2008 by Jennifer Lynn Barnes
All rights reserved.
Laurel-Leaf and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Barnes, Jennifer (Jennifer Lynn).
The squad / Jennifer Lynn Barnes.
p. cm.
Summary: High school sophomore Toby Klein enjoys computer hacking and wearing combat boots, so she thinks it is a joke when she is invited to join the cheerleading squad but soon learns cheering is just a cover for an elite group of government operatives known as the squad.
[1. Spies—Fiction. 2. Cheerleading—Fiction. 3. High schools—Fiction. 4. Schools—Fiction. 5. Computer hackers—Fiction. 6. Humorous stories.] I. Title.
PZ7.B26225Sqa 2008
[Fic]—dc22
2007009352