Muffled conversation pricked at my eardrums, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand upright. I snapped my head to the door as an invisible force urged me forward. Something — God, the fates, or maybe just hopeful delusion — told me that whatever it was going on on the other side of the wall, I needed to hear it.

I pressed my ear against the wall separating me from the office, but the hum of the copier destroyed any hope I had of hearing anything aside from urgent, incomprehensible whispering. I didn't have a choice. I had to open that door.

I pressed down on the handle ever-so-slightly, fighting the adrenaline inside of me that wanted to swing the thing open as quickly as possible. The idea was to be a fly-on-the-wall, not a wolf in a hen house.

"You're supposed to text first," was the first thing I heard clearly. "Two-minute warning. That's our deal. Elle's literally right there-"

"Please." Poppy laughed. "You think I'm scared of that mouse?"

Rude.

"That's not the point," Cameron argued, his voice low and strained. "It could have been anyone. Mr. Peterson, Walsh-"

"Have we been caught yet?" Poppy asked.

"No, but-"

"But nothing. Just give me the file."

There was a slight pause, broken by the sound of paper being snatched with impatient force.

"I'm expecting great things this time," Poppy muttered, the arrogance dripping from her voice like gravy. "Especially after your last screw up-"

"I told you, I didn't screw up. It was a subjective piece."

Was that hostility that I detected in his tone?

"76% is a screwup," Poppy said.

Their conversation was gold. Poppy spoke so freely. She truly felt invincible.

"Would you keep your voice down?" Cameron shot, seemingly reading my mind.

"Would you remember who you're talking to?" Poppy snapped back.

A sudden silence hung between them, strange and uneasy, like that silence during a standoff in those old cowboy films, right before one of the cowboys shoots the other through the chest with his pistol.

The silence was broken, though, when the copier behind me omitted a loud, obnoxious beep. I had to cover my mouth with my hand to suppress my frightened squeal.

"Go. Now," Cameron directed with renewed urgency. "You got what you came for."

"I always do." Poppy smirked, but the sound of footsteps drifting further and further away told me that she had done what he'd asked.

"Elle?" Cameron called.

I jumped back from the door and darted to the copier to grab my papers. I steadied my breathing, counted to three, then joined him out front.

"All good," I said with what was probably an overly-enthusiastic smile. "As I said last time, technology's not my strong point..."

I trailed off at the sight of Cameron. He ran a hand through his hair anxiously, staring back at me as though he were catapulting a thousand questions into the space between us. Namely, Did you hear us?

I debated telling him. I debated forcing him to help me, using what I knew against him just like Poppy did.

But I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to add to his upset. Besides, for some reason, a reason I didn't totally understand, it was important to me that Cameron liked me. That he knew I wasn't like Poppy. That he knew I was like him.

"How old is that thing?" I asked, motioning to the copy room. "It's so loud. I could barely hear myself think."

Cameron only stared. Then, after a second, he released a knowing laugh, his posture relaxed, and he threw me an agreeable nod. "I'm sorry."

I waved a hand at him casually. "Oh no, don't be. I should figure it out myself, anyway, since I'm apparently Neabar's PA now. I imagine you'll be seeing a lot more of me-"

"Actually," Cameron interrupted. He rolled his eyes to himself, then threw me a sheepish smile. "I owe you another apology."

"Oh?" I asked, my pink tassel earrings dangling to the side as I cocked my head.

"About the other day..."

"Ohhh. You mean when you threw me out on my ass?"

Cameron's eyes widened, his face flushed with embarrassment as his mouth fell open.

"I'm kidding!" I laughed. "Honestly, Cameron, don't worry about it."

"No, really-"

"Really," I repeated. "Don't sweat it."

He smiled, appeased, but confusion danced on his brow. He knew that he had acted strangely towards me that day. He knew that I knew he had acted strangely. So why didn't I push him for an explanation?

The truth was, I knew that Cameron wouldn't tell me the real reason why he had thrown me out of the office that day. He couldn't. He would have to lie. And I couldn't bear the thought of him lying to me. Anyone else at Irvine, sure. Fine. I expected nothing less.

But not from Cameron.

I walked towards the cafeteria for lunch, a mixture of emotions brewing inside of me. Part of me was excited that I had heard what I did. After all, it proved everything that Kat had told me. But another part of me was... angry. Angry that Poppy had succeeded in converting Cameron, so kind, so virtuous, so good, into her little pawn. All because she promised to do something that she should have done to begin with — treat him like a human being.

"Hey girly," Kat said, linking her arm with mine. She sounded relieved to see me, and it only took a glance to her left to figure out why. There, whispering with Kirsty, was Poppy. Manila folder in-hand.

I loathed the sight of that folder, a reminder of Poppy's short meeting with Cameron, and of how horribly she'd treated him. Like a dog that was helpless under her control. If only there was some way that I could get everyone else to witness what I had. To hear what I had. It would solve everything...

"Just a sec," Poppy declared suddenly, stopping in her tracks. She waved the folder at us with a coy smile. "I have to drop my assignment off on Mr. Peterson's desk."

Kat, Kirsty, and I lingered in the hall as Poppy strutted into the empty classroom in front of us. I watched as she added the folder — the one I was pretty darn sure had come from Cameron — to the growing pile of assignments on the otherwise unoccupied table. Then, with a confident flick of her ruby-red hair, she rejoined us in the hall.

By the time we finally reached the cafeteria, Sienna had already taken her position at the head of our table, her perfectly manicured nails etching a pattern into Nate's neat brown hair. I resisted the desire to roll my eyes.

"Astor Black, to the office," the intercom broke through our table's chatter, inspiring a chorus of playful 'ohs' as Astor slunk passed me with a devious smile.

"No rest for the wicked," he drawled.

I barely acknowledged him, though, my mind preoccupied with a new, all-consuming thought. I frowned as Kat yammered on beside me, chewing on my bottom lip.

Maybe there was a way for everyone to witness what I had in the office. Maybe I could expose Poppy without risking Kat or Cameron, or any of Poppy's other anonymous little helpers.

But, first, I had to get back to Peterson's classroom. I had to get my hands on that folder.

Thank you so much to xLyliex for the fan made graphic above 💓