Jaxon Knov was a boy my age who liked to pretend that he's big stuff - one of those preppy rich kids who actually knew how to fend for himself in serious situations. To an outsider, one would think he's one of those respectable types, the don't-fuck-with-me-and-I-won't-fuck-with-you type.

Only, there was one problem with that. He's a businessman through and through, so whatever personna he might reveal to a person was just a ploy to get whatever he wanted out of them, and he was good at it. Too good. He had far too many ties and connections for a boy who was barely eighteen years old. So I tried to steer the hell away from him whenever I could, lest I got involved in something that I'd seriously regret later. Key word: tried.

I found Jaxon and two of his buddies lurking around the corner of a hallway that led to most of our school's art-related classes. He looked up at my approach and nodded.

"Have you seen Felix anywhere?" he asked. I halted in mid-step. Right to the point.

"Who?"

"Felix. He's this lanky kid who may or may not have toilet paper clinging to his skin."

I pressed my lips in a thin line, eyeing his friends. One was a tall, blond kid and the other a redhead of average height.

"Why does he have toilet paper on him?"

"So you haven't seen him?"

"Never said that." I crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm not getting involved in whatever this is."

He shrugged, glancing over at his two friends on either side of him. At first glance, no stranger would think either one of them to be a threat. All of different heights, they contained slight builds, shoulders barely broad. Their usual dress was something of formal shirts tucked in dark pants - and let's not forget the ties. Definitely not the clothes to fight in.

However, as Jaxon turned, I noticed the back of his shirt and pants were completely covered in a purple blob of paint.

"At least tell me the last place you saw him," Jaxon said, turning to face me. "I can pay you."

I raised an eyebrow at this. "Like, money wise?"

Jaxon reached down in his pants pocket, retrieving a casual, leather-bound wallet, then pulled up the corner of a fifty dollar bill for me to see.

"How does a fifty sound?"

"You're joking." I furrowed my brow, trying to figure out if he was serious or not - or did he not think that a fifty was an extremely generous offer in this situation? Better yet, what the hell was he doing walking around with fifties on him? I could tip someone off on you, I thought, meeting his eyes before glancing over at his friends. Why would you trust me?

Everyone knows who he is, a small voice in the back of my head countered. It'd be stupid to piss him off, too. But that wouldn't stop a desperate group of kids wanting to help their families.

"How do you three avoid getting your asses beat?" was what I opted to say, instead.

"You're not the only one with friends," he reminded. Then, at my frown, he sighed, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

"Look, I respect your discipline, Tria. I really do. But I know you're smart, and everybody in this cursed town needs a little extra money here and there."

Taken aback by his words, I furrowed my eyebrows to hide my surprise. Fucking business people with all their awkward talk. I made a mental note to keep a better look-out over my shoulder.

"I'm not making a living by giving information to punks so that they can beat the living snot out of some lanky kid." I replied sharply. He held up his hands in an innocent gesture.

"Hey, he's the one that started it. I'm just looking for a little payback."

"He's covered in toilet paper."

An amused smirk played at his lips, his hazel eyes squinting slightly.

"Fine. But if you happen to change your mind between now and when we find him . . . we'll be waiting here until the bell rings."

I tilted my head to the side, crossing my arms over my chest. I, too, could play the business game.

"Sixty-five." I stated simply - the first number that popped into my head that was higher than fifty but less than a hundred. It sounded like a good number. He furrowed his brow.

"What?"

"Sixty-five, and I'll tell you." Maybe I should have gone with seventy-five.

One of Jaxon's friends, the redhead, snorted.

"That's a little pricey, don't you think?"

"No. You are asking me to help you solve your problems." This time, I looked Jaxon right in the eye. "Better I let you know now than later that I won't come by cheap." Hopefully he gets the hint, I thought inwardly. I didn't want people thinking they could get me involved in their drama whenever they wanted.

The redhead opened his mouth to argue, but Jaxon silenced him with a wave of his hand - something you only saw between mob bosses and their men. He then opened his wallet, pulled out a few bills, and handed it to me. Surprise engulfed my chest as I took the money, counting it, studying it to make sure it's real. 

Since when did seniors have the ability to pass out that kind of money? He should be saving up for whatever he planned to do after graduation. There's no job that paid well enough for him to easily be paying me like this - not in the town we live in, unless his dad gave him hundred dollar bills on a weekly basis. He hadn't even heard what I had to say - how would he know if I'd even seen the kid? Trying not to appear too bothered by how the guy got the money to begin with, I slid the money up the sleeve of my jacket.

"Now the information?"

I gave the boy a cool, tight smile, pushing back the nerves climbing in my chest. There were so many different ways he could have tried persuading me, cheaper ways. Was he that much of an idiot, or did he hold no value in money? Was this some sort of trick - or a test? What could Jaxon be looking for that involved me?

"I just came from the girl's bathroom between the biology and math classes. That might be a good place to check." There. Not a lie - just misdirection. That'll teach him not to bribe me. And to stay the hell away from me.

Jaxon, the sly but awfully stupid kid, returned my smile. He shoved himself from the wall and headed in the direction I just came from. But not before resting a hand on my shoulder. Scowling, I look up at him.

"Thank-you, Tria. It was a pleasure doing business."

I shook my head.

"Don't thank me just yet. I can't promise you he hasn't moved since."

He shrugged. "Perhaps. But I do love it when we talk."

I thought back to my own problems, such as the gangs hanging around my apartment complex and . . . other things.

"Creepy freak." I snapped, moving away from him. "Don't you have a little shank to catch?"