“Then I thought, maybe that is the problem. Because I keep swimming oceans for people, who wouldn’t jump over a puddle for me.” –Unknown

I’ve done a lot of nasty things in my time to get things done.

Sometimes the only way to get a dirty job done is to do it the hard way. I’m not going to tell you some of the highlights, because they are most definitely going to be the things I go to hell for, but let’s just say there are some people who have been seriously injured because of my impatience.

I’ve also done a lot of jobs for a lot of different people. Whether it be mayors, principals, politicians, CEOs and lawyers—even a murderer, at one particularly nasty case—it’s safe to say I’ve pulled a few extreme risks in my time. Of course, these are just things that come with the job sometimes, but they are still not particularly nice things I like to reminisce on.

That’s why, when Mr. Solomon called me into his classroom, I was not at all surprised or intimidated by the fact an authority figure was calling on me for help.

Mr. Solomon was the youngest teacher at our school, and the object of many girl’s crushes. He was only around twenty-four, fresh out of college, and had that tanned look that so many girls liked. He was tall, lean and athletic, with cropped light hair and a distinctive jawline. Totally drool-worthy, I’ll admit, but not really my type.

“Solomon,” I greeted as I breezed into his English classroom Thursday morning, examining my nails, which had been freshly manicured with a sparkly black.

“Cam,” he replied, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms over his chest. “How are you this morning?”

“Just perfect,” I replied. “But why don’t we cut down on the pleasantries and just get down to business. How does that sound?”

He nodded his consent. “Okay. I hear you’re the girl to come to if you ever need help.”

I smiled. “The one and only. Tell me what you need, I name a price, and I get it done for you.”

“And I’ve been told it’s with total discretion?” he asked, glancing around, as if worried someone would peek in and spot what was happening.

I nodded. “Oh, definitely. Cross my heart. What can I do for you, Leo?”

“H-How do you know my name?” he questioned, caught off-guard.

“I know everything about everything in Leighton Fields,” I told him. “I also know you went here when you were in high school, then you moved to New York and graduated from Langley University with a masters in English and a minor in History, and you’re totally into classic novels. Modern-day romantic, are we?”

“I…” He trailed off, obviously unsure on what, exactly, he was supposed to say. He shook his head as if to clear it of cobwebs. “Look, it doesn’t matter. The fact of the matter is that I need your help, Camila.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here,” I told him. “What do you need?”

He looked away, clearly ashamed by whatever favor he was going to ask me. Good, this ought to be juicy.

“I… I need a pay rise,” Mr. Solomon said, as if it pained him greatly. “I’ve gotten myself into a bit of trouble, and I need more money.”

“What’d you do, Leo?” I asked tiredly. “Was it a mortgage problem? Spend a little too much money on golf supplies?” Judging by the shamed look on his face, I knew I’d missed my target, so I took a different approach. “Solomon… is this a gambling problem?”

He flinched and looked away, staring at the beige wall. Just by the sour twist of his lips I could tell I’d been right on point with my prediction. Solomon was a gambler.

And he’d gotten himself into a very big problem.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll get you the pay rise. Who am I taking the issue to?”

“It’d raise too many red flags in the system,” Solomon advised me. “It needs to be through the school itself. Is this within your realm of capabilities or not?”

I scoffed, feeling mildly offended. “Leo, something you’ve gotta learn is that nothing is outside my realm of capabilities. You need a job done, I do it. Simple as that.”

“What’s your price?”

“A secret. Just one. I have so much dirt on Walter I seriously don’t need more than that. So, fess up, Solomon. Give us your deepest, darkest…”

He sighed. “Why do I get the feeling this is going to come back and bite me where it hurts?”

I smiled. “Because you’re an intelligent man.”

He shut his eyes, as if mustering up the courage to admit this aloud, before he spoke. “When I was fresh out of college, I went straight into a job. That’s a very bad idea, sic’ing a twenty-two year-old into a high school.”

“You didn’t…” I said, already knowing the dark direction this was rapidly heading down.

“I did,” he said. “It wasn’t long before I met Kelsi. She was a senior in high school; a cheerleader. And after a few after-school meet-ups and a bit of tutoring, we…”

“What?” I prompted, wanting to hear him confess before I made assumptions.

He shrugged. “We got together. It was always secret. We broke it off when I moved here.”

“I wish I could say I expected more from you, but…” I trailed off and sat on one of the wooden desks, swinging my legs like a little kid on a swing set.

“Hey, I’m not here for judgment, all right?”

I put my hands up in a surrendering motion, blowing out a breath. “Hey, I’m not judging! In a town like this, I’ve heard a lot worse. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Can you help me?”

“The day I can’t help someone with what they want is the day you can scream my every last secret to the world,” I told him, sliding off the desk. “You’ll have your pay rise within the month, I guarantee it.”

“Thank you,” he said, and it sounded like he honestly meant it. There was something in his eyes that was almost sincere and vulnerable. It was truly adorable.

“You know, I usually seal deals with a kiss,” I told him slowly, moving towards him. I couldn’t resist one last chance to screw with someone’s head, now, could I?

He swallowed nervously, and I watched fixedly as his Adams’ apple bobbed up and down. “Really?”

I shrugged. “Sure. In the past that’s how they used to sign contracts, as a show of promise. But you’re a history buff. You should know that, right?”

“Cam…”

“What?” I whispered, smirking at his flustered gaze and burning cheeks. “You shouldn’t really have a problem with this, should you?”

I trailed my index finger down his chest, and his breathing hitched. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at how flustered he had become. Despite the fact he played the calm teacher, I could see that what I was doing was making him nervous—and maybe not in the good way.

“All right,” he said, obviously trying to stay calm and focused on the task at hand—remaining above the situation.

I smiled as he shut his eyes and leaned in, and, just as his lips brushed mine, I stepped back and spun around towards the door. “Just kidding, Solomon,” I told him, giggling. “You should be so lucky.”

Then I turned to the door, and I opened it and stepped into the corridor and the encroaching brouhaha, and left him standing there in stunned silence.

~          *          ~

“Cam!”

I turned at the sound of my name to see Natalie making her way quickly through the crowd towards me. Her long ginger hair blew in the breeze, and, when she finally stopped, she began panting heavily. She blew one of her bangs out of her face and stood with her arms crossed in front of her.

“Subtle,” I acknowledged. “What can I do for you, Natalie?”

“Progress… report,” she huffed out, putting her hands on her knees and breathing heavily. “You promised me a… progress report.”

“Right,” I said, pulling out a few leaflets of notebook paper from my bag and handing it to her. “That’s all I know so far.”

She opened it, but I already knew what she’d find scrawled there.

Name: Zachary Wolfgang Templeton

Age: 18 (according to the student database he blows the candles out on October fourth).

Parents: Both philosophers; names are Victoria and William

Hometown: According to photograph from girl, Chicago.

Relationship status: Unknown (flirting says single, picture and loving note from girl says taken).

Interesting facts:

-Owns a lot of sporting paraphernalia

-Likes the color green

-Has two dogs (believe me, I know this for a fact considering I almost got eaten alive by them).

-Likes nineties teen movies for whatever questionable reason.

-Likes videogames.

            -He’s a boxers guy, not briefs*

            *May be important for a later date.

            “That’s it?” Natalie asked, scrutinizing the carefully compiled information I’d hastily scribbled the previous night of the information I’d gathered so far. “That’s trivial, speed-dating stuff. I asked for the whole package.”

            “First of all, that’s just a progress report. And secondly, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll do the rest for another secret.”

            Her jaw dropped open. “Camila, we agreed on one secret. You can’t change the rules!”

            “Sure I can,” I replied. “Trust me, Natty-Bear. I’ve done a lot less for a lot more. Did you know I broke into his frigging house for some of that information? I almost got caught. So I think you can meet me halfway with a secret.”

She sighed. “Fine. My older brother—you know, the one who’s doing Ivy League work currently—is actually in jail. Turns out he used his scientific mind to make meth. He got kicked out of school, and he’s in jail without parole for another ten years.”

“Your family is just full of juicy gossip, aren’t they?” I replied, smiling.

“Are you gonna get me the rest of the information or not?” she asked; rather rudely, if you ask me.

“I’ll have the rest of the info soon. Stay tuned.”

I turned around and started off towards the locker, leaving Natalie far behind me. I pondered her secret for a few minutes. Granted, it wasn’t the juiciest little secret I’d ever been let in on, but it was close. It’s amazing some of the lies people will tell to keep up appearances. I thrived on it.

I made my way to my locker, shouldering past kids until I found my way to the familiar metal. I quickly dialed in my combo and then opened it to quickly dump my books on the way to lunch.

I frowned as a small square Post-It note fell from the locker, and quickly leaned down to snag it up. Notes in the locker? How old school.

I unfolded it and stared at the piece of paper, frowning as I read the contents of the note. The spider-like font scrawled there spiraled across the page, but it was a handwriting I was unfamiliar with, and I couldn’t identify the perpetrator.

 Camila,

Who knew you had a thing for older guys? Mr. Solomon never seemed like your type.

Wonder if the Board of Studies would be interested.

Well, at least that’s one way to earn extra credit.

It wasn’t signed, but still my lips pressed together thinly as I stared at it and reread the message. I glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone had noticed, but everybody continued on with their day, unaware to my presence.

I had no idea how the person writing this note knew about the events that had gone down this morning. The door had been closed, but maybe the blinds had been drawn on the windows. Maybe Leighton Fields had its own little Peeping Tom.

But using me as a kind of victim?

A very stupid, tasteless Peeping Tom.

“How Pretty Little Liars,” I murmured, grimacing at the paper. The last thing I needed was to find myself somewhere in the middle of a teenage drama show.

I scrunched it up in my fist and dumped my books, before shutting my locker with a bang loud enough to draw the attention of the whole hall. I spun around and made my way to the cafeteria.

But not before I made a big show of throwing the note into the trashcan.

~      *      ~

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