You might be wondering how I managed to buy myself an apartment in gorgeous and raffish New York City without having an official job. Well, that's simple. Let me enlighten you for a second.
Imagine that you're walking down the street to your favourite coffee shop. On the way, you stop to throw the metallic wrapper of your chewing gum in the bin when you notice a man slumped against a dirty bin. There are also two women chatting away in front of them, their roasted coffee bean latte's in their hands. You can see the plume of smoke rise up into the air like a campfire while the man behind them remains shivering in the cold. You see them giggle to each other, completely ignoring the presence of the man behind them.
That is my role; the role of the invisible woman. Most days, I go unnoticed in the corridors and most classes. Trust me when I tell you that there can't be a better situation. Thanks to this power that they've given me, I can overhear things that are otherwise hidden.
I know that Stacey Morden got pregnant last year and her sudden 'leave of absence' wasn't because of her Mother's sudden business trip in Hawaii but because she couldn't keep hiding her bump forever. Blaise, or Patricia, Trotterton used to be called 'Piggy' back in the first grade. Not only did she change her name but had plastic surgery to look more like her favourite celebrity.
I'm sorry if I keep confusing you. How does money come into this? Well, I've told you before that the students who attend Burton's Private Academy are here because of their Daddy's or Mummy's money. That's where I come in.
I've planted a bug in the Director's private lounge. Evidence of tax evasion, proof of side deals with students who don't quite fit the cut, and grade boosting. Grade boosting is my least favourite one of them all. In order to get their children into a better university when they're finished here, they pay a reoccurring amount to get their children's grade from a B+ to an A-.
You could say that I am quite the impressive blackmailer, and that's all you need to know. I'm not a righteous person, determined to do the right thing. As long as I get better-than-average grades in my own strength and a portion of the money that he takes from those parents, I couldn't be happier. The situation actually benefits me.
So far, this year, I've received $300,000 as my 20% cut from those who have bought a way in. The director obviously doesn't know who I am, but he knows that I'm dangerous enough to get him locked up for a very long time. I keep him on his toes nevertheless.
"Luna." declared my English teacher out of the blue. Oh gosh, not this again.
"Give me a literary description of... let's see... the first day of winter." She always does this to me. Everyone in this class knows that I'm an English geek. No, I don't spend my evenings writing steamy fanfictions, but they've already established what I am and what I'm not, so there's no reason to fight it.
I played around with my pencil for a bit before placing it gently into my pencil case before removing it again, twirling it around in both of my hands.
"With delicate blooms of crystals descending from the heavens, with the conjuring of steel-grey clouds, the first day of winter comes as a promise and an open gloved hand for those who dare venture into it."
There was a moment's silence before my teacher's smile stiffened a bit. "Excellent work." She's just flushed because I did better than her example on the board. She's embarrassed. It isn't my fault that I'm so good at replicating literature. Blame the thousands of books in my first care home's attic. The amount of first editions that were there was enough to sell for a fortune, yet I somehow became attached to them over time.
Who knows, perhaps I levelled with them being abandoned up in the attic, simply there to gather dust. I have a bad habit of collecting what is thrown away.