Don't Judge a Girl by Her Cover by Ally Carter Page B

sure when
I'd even seen him, but as soon as I said the words I knew they were true.
    "Why?" Mr. Solomon
questioned.
    "The
static," I said. "Two and a half minutes ago there was a burst of
static on the Secret Service frequency. He flinched."
    Somewhere
in the crowd of bodies, I could have sworn I felt Joe Solomon smile.
     
     
    I used
to wonder if Secret Service Agents ever got tired of hearing the same speeches
from the same people a dozen times a day every day until someone either has to
give a speech that says they won or give a speech that says they lost. But
after that day I started wondering if the security team even heard the speeches
at all.
    "Beta
team, protesters stay in Level Two. I repeat, protesters stay in Level
Two," one of the anonymous voices said.
    "Charlie
team, we have unusual movement in a window in the City National Bank
building," another voice said, and in a flash, all the blinds on the
fourth floor of the building across the street were pulled down.
    And
then … a voice I recognized. "Peacock is stage- ready and moving."
    "Aunt Abby," I
whispered to Bex.
    "Peacock?" she
whispered back.
    Onstage,
The Senator was sweeping out his hand and saying, "Family. I don't have to
tell the Buckeye state how much family means to me."
    The
crowd cheered wildly for a few minutes, but when Macey replaced her father at
the microphone, a hush fell so completely over the Ohio swing voters that I
could have sworn someone or something had turned the volume down.
    "It's
great being here today." Macey looked out over the crowd. She looked lost
for a moment—dazed. But then I could have sworn her gaze fell on Bex and me. A
new light seemed to fill her eyes as she looked at us and added, "With my
family." At this point Senator McHenry put his arm around his wife, and I
couldn't help thinking about Clipboard Lady's direction of "spontaneous
hugging."
    "And
there's something I want to say," Macey went on, even stronger now.
"There's nothing we can't do if we stick together. There's nothing we
can't overcome if we try. I learned that from the people who love me. The
people who know…the real me." This time I knew Macey
was looking straight at us.
    Beside me, I heard Bex whisper,
"That's our girl."
    "Ms.
Baxter." Mr. Solomon's voice brought us back to the moment, to the
mission. "There's a man thirty feet behind you in a denim jacket. Get his
fingerprints without his knowledge." With a wink, Bex was gone.
    There
were more speeches, more cheering, but eventually Macey walked down the steps
on the left side of the stage and through a gap in the bleachers that led to a
secure area behind the stands. As soon as she disappeared, I heard my aunt's
voice saying, "Peacock is secure and holding in the yellow tent," and
I took my first deep breath since Sunday night.
    The
crowd was staring at the stage while Governor Winters said, "Our opponents
have had four years to talk the talk, but now it's time to walk the walk!" People clapped. People laughed. It was like he was a puppet master and two
thousand people jumped every time he pulled the strings.
    But
I didn't clap. I didn't laugh. I just kept hearing Mr. Solomon's voice—not in
my ear—in my head. I remembered something he'd said in the helicopter.
"Protection is ten
    percent protocol and ninety
percent instinct."
    And
just then my instincts were telling me to turn around. Maybe it was the way the
buildings lined the grassy lawn, maybe it was the crowd of people that passed
by me, but something made me think about last semester and Washington, D.C. So
while The Senator and Governor Winters stood with their hands locked together
above their heads, and the band started playing, I turned and watched the crowd
clapping and dancing. The candidates pushed toward the barriers, and the crowd
rushed closer, but one guy slipped away.
    Farther from the bulletproof
banner.
    Farther from everything.
    Except
the bleachers and the yellow tent that stood behind them.
    Another
banner hung from the