conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a plot for a book about Gallagher, Academy, I'd entitled I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You: The Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women is a fairly typical all-girls school—that is, if every school teaches advanced martial arts in PE, chemistry always consists of the latest in chemical warfare, and everyone breaks CIA codes for extra credit in computer class.\nSo in truth, while the Gallagher Academy might say it's a school for geniuses what they really mean is spies.\nBut what happens when a Gallagher Girl falls for a boy who doesn't have a name.\nCammie Morgan may be fluent in fourteen languages and is very capable of killing a man with a few pieces of uncooked spaghetti, but the Gallagher Academy hasn't prepared her for what to do when she meets an ordinary boy who thinks she's an ordinary girl.\nSure, she can tap his phone, hack into his computer, and track him through a mall without him ever being the wiser, but can she have a regular relationship with a regular boy who can never know the truth about her.\nCammie may be an elite spy in training, but in her sophomore year, she's doing something riskier than ever—she's falling in love.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: \nCammie may be an elite spy in training, but in her sophomore year, she's doing something riskier than ever—she's falling in love..\nSure, she can tap his phone, hack into his computer, and track him through a mall without him ever being the wiser, but can she have a regular relationship with a regular boy who can never know the truth about her.\nCammie Morgan may be fluent in fourteen languages and is very capable of killing a man with a few pieces of uncooked spaghetti, but the Gallagher Academy hasn't prepared her for what to do when she meets an ordinary boy who thinks she's an ordinary girl.\nBut what happens when a Gallagher Girl falls for a boy who doesn't have a name.\nSo in truth, while the Gallagher Academy might say it's a school for geniuses what they really mean is spies.I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You: The Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women is a fairly typical all-girls school—that is, if every school teaches advanced martial arts in PE, chemistry always consists of the latest in chemical warfare, and everyone breaks CIA codes for extra credit in computer class
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You
  The present in my hands felt foreign and heavy then. Doesn't it usually take 365 days to earn a birthday present? I wondered. I mean, I know I've had a pretty sheltered life and all, but I'm pretty sure that's the standard way in which these things work.
  The earrings glistened in the night, and all I could do was stare at them, hypnotized, thinking that no girl has ever had a nicer boyfriend, and no girl has ever been less deserving of him.
  I felt like I was outside myself looking down. Who is that girl, I wondered. Doesn't she know how lucky she is? Doesn't she realize that she has really pretty earrings that match her necklace and a boy who would think of such a thing? Who is she to worry about quantum physics or chemical agents or NSA codes? Doesn't she know this is one of those rare moments in life where everything is right and good and wonderful?
  I thought about the date: November nineteenth. I remembered telling Josh that was my birthday during his rapid-fire interrogation by the park, and I wasn't sure which was more sobering—that he'd remembered or I'd forgotten.
  The empty corridors seemed to spiral out in front of me. I was tired. I was hungry. I wanted to take a shower and talk to my friends, and so I was already half asleep as I leaned against the back side of the ancient stone that framed the huge fireplace in the second-floor student lounge. In just a couple of weeks the fireplace was going to be useless to me as a passageway unless I wanted to wear one of Dr. Fibs's fireproof bodysuits on my dates with Josh (but they make even Bex look fat), so I pulled the lever one last time, expecting the stones to part, but when I did, I accidentally knocked an old torch holder that slid down, opening yet another hidden door, and revealing a branch in the passageway that I don't think I'd ever seen before.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You
  The present in my hands felt foreign and heavy then. Doesn't it usually take 365 days to earn a birthday present? I wondered. I mean, I know I've had a pretty sheltered life and all, but I'm pretty sure that's the standard way in which these things work.
  The earrings glistened in the night, and all I could do was stare at them, hypnotized, thinking that no girl has ever had a nicer boyfriend, and no girl has ever been less deserving of him.
  I felt like I was outside myself looking down. Who is that girl, I wondered. Doesn't she know how lucky she is? Doesn't she realize that she has really pretty earrings that match her necklace and a boy who would think of such a thing? Who is she to worry about quantum physics or chemical agents or NSA codes? Doesn't she know this is one of those rare moments in life where everything is right and good and wonderful?
  I thought about the date: November nineteenth. I remembered telling Josh that was my birthday during his rapid-fire interrogation by the park, and I wasn't sure which was more sobering—that he'd remembered or I'd forgotten.
  The empty corridors seemed to spiral out in front of me. I was tired. I was hungry. I wanted to take a shower and talk to my friends, and so I was already half asleep as I leaned against the back side of the ancient stone that framed the huge fireplace in the second-floor student lounge. In just a couple of weeks the fireplace was going to be useless to me as a passageway unless I wanted to wear one of Dr.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Twenty-four hours before, I had been afraid to even look at it, but so much can happen in a spy's life in that amount of time—a father can get reborn, a friendship can live and die, a true love can dissolve like the paper its love notes are written on. Twenty-four hours before, I had been sitting on top of our walls, but now I knew on which side I belonged.
  The two boxes lay at the bottom of the page, like a fork in the road that I had grown tired of straddling. Beyond our walls was a boy I could only hurt, and inside them were people I could help. It was probably the hardest decision of my life, and I made it by drawing an X. That's one of the golden rules of CoveOps: don't make anything more difficult than it has to be.
  I temporarily deactivated it just as I heard Dillon's echoing, "I'm telling you, this is gonna be off the—"
  The streetlight above us flickered off and on, and in that half second of darkness, Dillon stepped closer.
  I wanted to punch and kick and make him feel as much pain as possible, but I remembered that no amount of P&E training would help me make him hurt the way that I hurt. Even at the Gallagher Academy they don't teach you how to break somebody's heart.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last three paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I followed my friend up the stairs, and I got lost in a sea of girls who were dressed like me, and were trained like I was, and who were entrenched in my same world.
  Is this the world I would choose if I could go back—be ignorant and blissful and happy—if I could live a white picket life on a white picket street and be ignorant of the unpleasant deeds that have to be done in places most people can't find on a map? I don't know. Maybe I would if my mind was like an Etch A Sketch and I could shake it and erase all that I know. But I'm in too deep now. I know what goes bump in the night, and I know how to fight it.
  Bex and I walked up the stairs. Then Liz joined our steps, then Macey. I don't know what's going to happen next semester. I don't know if Josh will ever talk to me again. I don't know what he'll remember, or what we'll face in CoveOps, or even what Mr. Smith will look like come September. But I know who will be beside me, and as every good spy knows—sometimes that's enough.