Don't Tell Him He's In Love With A Genius

:Genius: Chapter Thirteen

June 2nd 2011, Thursday

Writer's Blog: At approximately 7:23pm of Wednesday June 1st, A Mr Anton Sabonni, a man I had until recently thought was a total ass (though, the thought still lingers) revealed to me that his mother was suffering from a type of cancer known as Large Cell Carcinoma he also, in his onslaught of emotions admitted to have gotten to Grace Valley school for the gifted via scholarship, meaning that nor he or his mother could afford the treatment. I have decided to fund his mother's treatment, meaning I would have to find a way to gain money without being able to; a.) hack into my own account (because that's morally wrong), b.) ask my parents to sign a legal document stating I can take x amount of money out of my own account or c.) spill my secret to my adoptive parents and get them to sign a legal document saying they are my legal guardians and therefore holder of my money. To undergo this adventure I would need two things, the wit to preform a stunt like this and a best friend who is trained in the arts of stealth, database hacking and legal fabrication. Thankfully I have both of these sources available, and they are working for me at present time.

“Hey, lady, are you getting out?” The cab driver asked, putting my train of thought to an stop. I shook my head, placing a very detailed structure or a polite, innocent yet relaxed face and gave him the money.

“Sorry, in my own world.” I told him, but at least my charm worked, he smiled easily while he gave me my change. I stepped out into the busy city and mentally smirked. I had to call a taxi ahead, since Grace Valley school was in fact in Grace Valley, the closest town to it was Eureka. Eureka was not the place I wanted to be really, because there was really no wide selling newspapers, meaning what I had to sell would sell for very minor money. Although, I post online I had a secret I was willing to sell and apparently there is an extremely high bid on secrets these days. In fact, the information I had to offer had bids from news agents and even random people from all around the world, and it could have gone for a lot more. As Harley said to me when I first came to her with my book, saying I didn't want people to know who I am, secrets pay. Harley is probably going to skin me when she next sees me, I haven't been in touch for so long, and I didn't tell her I was moving countries, though in my defence, I hadn't known. I really hope Mack had been keeping her updated, he was my primary editor and loved reminding me I was unless without him. I spent my time looking for the café I was to meet the highest bidder in. It was a small thing named after the owner, the walls were caramel, the floors were tiled and the seats were red leather. I sat in the back, away from the corner I told the bidder I would be at and ordered a milky tea.

During my wait I pondered why I was actually here, why I was sitting in a café in the middle of a town I knew nothing about, sharing something I really didn't want to with a guy I really didn't know. I told myself it was because Anton was most probably my biggest fan, he probably could give me a line from any page I asked, giving me the page number and the date it was release … in each country. He followed my blog, I could tell because my last update a mysterious boy under the name OcyneView15 commented on it, referring to the exact weather we were having on that day, a boy of Harred's description and the fact that his DOB was the 15th. So I was sitting in this place because Anton had followed my work, he loved it, and by him loving it he had made my dreams of being a loved author come true. I sat here because Anton deserved it, I had too much money that belonged to my fans, Anton was both my fan and in need of it selflessly.

I did not sit here because my emotions for Anton clouded my judgement. Because that would imply I liked Anton Sabonni, which I certainly don't.

Finally, a man with a bag (that probably contained recorder by the way he was holding it and it was unzipped slightly for better hearing) and a cap. He sat in the booth we had discussed and kept moving his hand to his pocket, undoubtedly where a check for the money was. I was wearing three hoodies, making me look like a bigger build. I tied my hair up, stuffed it under a cap and put on my sun glasses, not a disguise worthy for someone with three years spy training, but it would have to do. I walked over and sat down, looking around to see if there were any extra cameras outside he was using to track me.