Scorpio

Chapter VI

Ned Asper walked with happy steps to his locker after school was over for the day. Things were going well; he'd gotten an A on the biology exam, and he didn't have much homework. Just the odd numbers one through nineteen for Algebra II, some vocabulary for Latin—that'll be helpful for med or law school—a quick peek around College Confidential to see if anyone else had put up their admitted or rejected profiles—rejects were useful to read, too, because it was important to know what didn't work in addition to what did—and then some social media marketing for his non-profit consultancy start-up—gotta leave a positive digital footprint when you face the admissions committees in less than four years.

He would've whistled—if he knew how—as he spun the combination into his lock. He lifted the latch and swung the flimsy metal door open. An unmarked white envelope fluttered out and landed on the floor.

Ned blanched and hurriedly picked it up. He glanced around him to make sure no one was watching. No, he was quite alone. Thank God he had gone to the English teacher after P.E. was over to "ask some questions," a.k.a. make chitchat to boost their mutual rapport and buy some insurance for the subjective scoring on their big, upcoming essay assignment. If he hadn't stayed after those extra fifteen minutes, other people would have seen, and there would be no easy way to explain.

Furtively, he opened the envelope, blocking off any prying eyes with his body. He wondered why the envelope had come now. He'd just paid them off two weeks ago. If it was another notice, he'd need to find a way to get more cash—fast. How much was the bill for this time?

He pulled out a single sheet of paper. As he read it, he paled even more. It wasn't money they were asking for, but—in a way—this was harder to get. He really didn't know that guy super well, and now he was suddenly responsible for the——

——that thing. Probably, lots of stuff could wrong. They must've determined that after doing the calculations first; otherwise, they wouldn't have sent him this. But what could he do? Ignoring the notice would not end well for him. If he did that, he could kiss all his dreams goodbye. Then, all of the work he had put in, moving himself this far along, would've been meaningless. And what would his parents say? They would be shocked at first, and the shock would eventually sour into horrible disappointment.

Good Lord, how had he gotten himself into this mess? He threw the letter down on a shelf inside his locker and tugged at his short, cropped hair in frustration.

Was this because he had been assigned as his point of contact? It was probably related to that. Why had he agreed to it in the first place? Well, at the time, he had thought it would be a great way to show that he was a dedicated member. Because that was how you rise, right? Showcasing your increasing responsibility? Who knew it would end up like this?

It was like they had planned it. Oh geez, it probably had been a plan and a ruse and a trap all along, but he was in too deep now to pull himself out of this d—— pit he had willingly stepped into.

So, they wanted him to convince that guy, and do it discreetly. It couldn't be too difficult—all the freshies had the same terror that had gripped him in the beginning and that still lingered in his mind now. So, he had that one advantage, attacking from upper ground. Maybe a blindside would be best, give him less time to react, think, back away. Catch him unawares.

They had these—what were those called?—ah, yes, exploding offers. People talked about them sometimes because they were already preparing for their careers after college. That would probably be the best way. Arrange a meeting, but don't say for what. And then, when the time is right, come out swinging like the most underhanded salesman.