As someone who loves deleted scenes on DVDs, I’m pleased to offer you a collection of deleted scenes from my novels. Here you will find unedited, unpublished scenes that were deleted for a reason. (Largely because I needed to do better.)
Note: deleted scenes can and will contain spoilers. Read at your own risk.
There were a series of crates that lined the alley. Josh took a seat on one, and I knew that he was showing me one of his hiding places; I regretted that I could never do the same.
“I didn’t know you were coming today.”
“Yeah…well…surprise,” I said weakly.
“Hey, what are you doing next Friday, ‘cause—”
“I don’t know,” I blurted, and I didn’t. The shadow of the building sliced through the alley, splitting it into light and dark and I didn’t know where to stand. On one side it was cold, on the other, the sun burned my eyes. So I just stood there, straddling the shadow.
“Well, there’s this thing at school, and if you can come I was going to get tickets.”
“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know where I’ll be next week. I mean…” I stumbled over my words. “I mean my parents may not let me—”
“When are you going to stand up to them?” Josh stood and blocked the sun from my eyes.
“When am I going to stand up to them?” I cried. “Yeah, those are big words from the guy in the Abrams’ Family Pharmacy t-shirt. How’s the family business treating you?” I mocked.
“Hey.” He caught my arm, anchored me to him because neither of us wanted to drift apart. “I’m sorry.”
But I didn’t say it back, maybe because a part of me wasn’t sorry.
“Is that Glycolysis or Gluconeogenesis?” Macey asked. Yes—our Macey. The Macey who had crawled out of a limo and bragged about only eating eight hundred calories a day. I know what you’re thinking—sometimes it amazes me, too.
I squinted through the glow of the secret room, absorbed in its tomb-like silence (luckily Macey’s nose ring only makes that annoying wheezy noise when she’s sleeping.) I leaned toward my stack of seventh grade notebooks and dug until I found the one labeled biochem.
I licked my thumb like Grandpa Morgan always does when he’s reading the newspaper and started flipping through pages. Halfway through a lecture about Amino Acid & Peptide Structures a series of doodles caught my eye in the margins. Most of them were in Bex’s distinctive handwriting. Like…
Do you think my boobs look any bigger today, because I think I felt them growing last night?
Wouldn’t it be awesome if they hired some hot guy to teach CoveOps when Buckingham retires?
And, my personal favorite…
Whose bright idea was it for Mr. Mosckowitz to get a perm?
It’s kind of amazing we made it this far, when you think about it. I kept flipping through the pages, through the years, remembering the things we were learning and the celebrities we were stalking (not that I’m not admitting that we were the ones who programmed that satellite to take pictures of Matt Damon—even if it was exceptional work…)
Then I saw it:
Lifetime Goals and Objectives of Cameron Ann Morgan
-Graduate from Gallagher Academy (obviously)
-Pass CoveOps Gauntlets Senior Year (obviously)
-Become youngest field agent to ever lead mission for CIA
-Develop breasts (preferably in the B to C cup range)
-Buy awesome house to share with Bex and Liz (ideally one with a pool)
-Invent calorie-free chocolate chip cookie dough
-Gain Top Secret, Eyes Only security clearance
-Find out who was with Dad on his last mission
-Find out what happened
-Do what has to be done…
Papers were everywhere—class notes and study sheets, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when Macey started digging. I should have been ready for when she picked up the slip of paper that had tumbled from my bag and asked, “What’s this?”
She didn’t know what A29-b stood for, of course, but as her gaze swept across the words “Career Track Declaration” I saw recognition dawn.
“It’s nothing,” I said, grabbing it from her hand as I gathered my things and stood to leave. I closed the seventh grade notebook and my seventh grade dreams. “I don’t have the answer, Macey,” I said.
And I didn’t.