The sun shines brightly, glinting off the shimmering water and reflecting like crystals. The manicured lawn makes a perfect foreground, where just beyond subtle waves of the most beautiful clear aqua color ripple out towards the Gulf. White rays penetrate through our large kitchen windows, showering the kitchen island in warmth, where I'm sitting eating my avocado toast.

    "Morning, Amelia." Caleb trudges in, his icy blond hair a mess.

I turn my head to give him a smile when he swiftly reaches over my shoulder and steals my breakfast. "Hey!"

    "It'fs jwuts a wittle bit," he mumbles, a whole slice already shoved in his mouth.

    "A whole slice, is just a little bit?" I inquire frustratedly.

    "Yeah?" He responds as if he hasn't done anything wrong.

    "You're such a meanie." I put on my best pouty face, for dramatic effect of course.

    He speaks as if he's sincerely reconciling, but the slight smirk cast on his lips says otherwise. "Come on, I'll pay you back."

    "Yeah, sure," I say sarcastically. "Just like how you said you were going to pay me back for tossing my shoes in that riverbank. What was that? A year ago, maybe?"

    He acts shocked. "I have no idea what you're talking about m'lady."

    A while ago Caleb and I came up with the idea we would speak like we were the King and Queen of England to diffuse our bickering, so using my well practiced British accent I say, "Well, you know kind sir, if you weren't Noah's right hand, I would have slapped you across the face by now."

    His voice picks up volume. "Woah, there! That is no way to speak to your King."

    "Sorry, your Highness. I apologize." I fake apologize from my seat and give a small bow.

    "Too late!" He shakes his to the side in disapproval. "A punishment has already been decided."

    "What ar-ah!" I yelp in surprise as Caleb's arms shoot out after me.

    I quickly get up and run as fast as I can around the island, Caleb hot on my heels, and both of us with stupid grins on our faces. We do one of those teeter totter things from opposite sides of the room, only the counter separating us, when he jumps up and over, tackling me in a sea of tickles.

    The noise that bursts out of me is a cross between a snort and cackle. "Stop it!"

    Our laughs roll around the room like a child's spinning top, vibrant and heartwarming. My outbursts of giggles go from soft to loud, and loud to soft, while his pesky fingers have a tight grip on me.

    We whip our heads around as a slight cough from the doorway makes us freeze.

    "Are you guys ever going to stop acting like five year olds?" Noah questions.

    We both burst out laughing.

    Noah walks over, resting his arms on the granite as Caleb and I untangle our intertwined limbs. Per usual, he's wearing a pristinely ironed black suit and tie, which clutches his skin like a soul-coffin, burying up his child self for hours on end. His midnight brown hair is perfectly gelled atop his ahead, and our family's signature forest hued eyes as the only pop of color you'll ever see him wear.

    "Nah, bro. You got it wrong. I'm not acting; I really am a full fledged five year old." Caleb says lightheartedly as he heads out, prepared to let the two of us talk alone.

    "Just get to work." Noah playfully shakes his head with a smile, giving into the madness.

    I chuckle, redirecting my attention to Noah. "Hey, now you're eating my toast too?"

    "I dwind'nt mow it wab yourbs," he says semi defensively.

    I roll my eyes in reference to the fact this is the second time this morning someone shoved a slice of my breakfast in their mouth. "I swear all boys are the same. See you around big bro." I prance away, accepting the fact that I never actually got a full breakfast.

    "Hey, wait a minute. I have something to talk to you about," he states. "Come on, to my office."

***

His office is big.  A grand mahogany desk sits in the center, surrounded by floor to ceiling bookshelves lining the walls. Two large leather chairs are stationed in front, and there's a mini bar in the corner. Noah, who usually prefers everything clean and organized, has papers covering his desk, and I notice a freshly emptied bottle of rum on the floor.

    He sits in his large wheely chair, promptly getting down to business. "Have you heard about the Avenues?" he asks.

    I follow suit, resting on the armrest of a chair. "Ah, no, not really. I heard some guys talking about them a couple days ago, but I don't remember much."

    "Well, word on the street is they're growing in numbers, and fast," he dismaly says.

    Rapid growth to a small gang is never a good sign; it usually means they're planning a big hit. Unlike places such as Russia and Germany, which are heavily dictated by mafias, the Unites States has always been run by various gangs, and as one of the top ranking gangs –some might even claim as the next emerging American Mafia– we could be their target.

    "Okay, what do I have to do with any of this?" I inquire.

    "We lost contact with our inside link. I want you to replace him."

    It's not uncommon to have inside links, but why in the world Noah would choose me, I have no idea. I've never gone undercover; I usually do hits, and that's it. I sit in disbelief for a moment, my breath getting lodged in my throat. "What? Since when do I–"

    "I hate to say this, but you're the best choice."

    Times have changed. Noah used to chase me around the house without a care in the world, unaware of our father's antics, pretending to shoot me in battle. We were as happy can be, just children, no responsibilities, no life changing decisions, no fear at all—except the monster under the bed. Until that fateful night, when we —more so Noah— were forced to fill a role far too extraneous. Who knew our pretend battles would turn true.

    I hear the creak of a door as Caleb sneaks in the back, now dressed in his all black attire: black ripped jeans with a hoodie and shoes to match. "They're most likely formatting a plan against us as we speak. They're on high alert for other leaks and we can't risk getting caught a second time. Besides, they'd never suspect a pretty young girl."

    "He's telling the truth," Noah cuts in. "Listen A, all you have to do is get close to the leader, or some other high ranking member, it doesn't matter. All I care about is we get the intell."

    "Wait a minute, that's absurd. You're basically telling me to seduce my way in?"

    I'm not oblivious to the world of gangs and what goes on in them. I'm literally part of one, but I never would have thought Noah would put me on a mission like this.

    "If that's what it takes, then yes. You should know better. That's the only way you'll be able to get intell fast enough." Noah shares a look of grievance with Caleb before continuing. "It's no secret that they pass around women. If you get close to someone, you'd basically have free roam of their whole complex without any suspicion."

    My eyes wander around the room before they reconnect with Noah's. I can't believe I am about to do this, but I trust Noah with my life. If he chooses me for this task, then I'll do it. It's not like I'll have an option anyway. "What's his name?" I say, referring to our target, the leader.

    "Christian. Christian Hassler."

***

An hour later and I'm sitting in my range rover at a school parking lot. I thought I was done with this nonsense.

    Turns out Christian is a high school senior. Unfortunately, that's about all the information I have to go on. No wonder why Noah chose me. I'm the only female in the gang who can pass as a student. Well, I am technically supposed to be a student, so that makes sense.

    The bell rings and students start to head inside, dispersing to classes, with the exception of a slow chatterbox or two.

    I get out of the vehicle and head up to the entry way, which is covered in a curvature of glass. Three stories of umber brick add to the grand facade, along with a large green sign above the doors reading Welcome to Elmwood High in the clearsest of fonts.

    The inside is just as clean. Beige lockers line the student filled hallways, of whom which scurry to classes.

    I take a sharp right down the hall, following the signs to the main office. Is everything in this school top class? A large pane of glass fronts the office, and a large sleek desk awaits on the other side.

    "How may I help you, sweetheart?" A middle aged woman greets me as I walk in.

    "I'm a new student here," I state.

    "Oh! Amelia, right? Principal McCabe was talking about you. It's odd you're such a sudden transfer. Where are you coming from?"

    I forgot how talkative secretaries can be. I quick make up a lie. "Um, I was homeschooled. Kinda," I mumble the last part under my
breath. What she doesn't know won't kill her.

    "Well, let me go look for your papers real quick. Just hang tight." She swivels around in her chair and heads to what I can only assume is a back office.

    I look around the room, taking in my surroundings. The walls are painted a classy blue grey color with that boring hotel esque art scattered around. There is a bookshelf in the corner, which probably has not been touched in years, and a line of white plush chairs to wait in.

    I avert my gaze to my shoes in boredom when I catch a second set in my peripheral vision.

    I look up at the victim: dark brown hair, eyes the color of an ocean breeze, tan skin, and without a doubt toned muscles underneath his navy blue shirt, khakis, and pair of black vans.

    Damn, he looks like he could mess up my life. And I'd say thank you.

    He is looking out into space, cracking his bloodied knuckles. At the sight of his hands I notice his cut lip and one on his forehead too. And I thought my morning was going bad.

    "I saw that. You just checked me out." His eyebrows raise in questioning as his eyes saunter to mine.

    I raise a smirk of my own in response. "Oh, please. The only thing I was doing was analyzing how weak you must be. That's a pretty nasty bruise you got there." I loosely gesture to his black eye starting to form.

    His face apalls.

    The lady comes back with perfect timing, a stack of papers in hand. "Here ya go."

    I grab them from her and quickly shove them into my bag, subtly taking note of the schedule on top of the stack. I guess my last name is Tod now. "Thanks."

    I make sure to lock eyes with the handsome stranger, giving him a small smile of triumph before walking out, my head held high.