Laying on my stomache, I typed at the computer attempting to finish my English report before the president came. He told me he had a very important message but I was guessing it was another house burgaler scandel he wanted me to solve. It seemed like he'd give me harder jobs, me being top in class above all the other muscel framed men. But I understood him not wanting me to do the murder cases. I mean I was only 15, it sounded kind of tragic in the president's ears but all it sounded like to me was an adventure. Rolling over to my back side I heaved myself up, and looked into the small mirror, covered in little stickers from when I was younger, that stood on my nightstand. "Jewlery, Check" I made a mental note as I flicked one of my dangling gold earrings. "Hair, Check" I mumbled fluffing my hair which cascaded to my shoulders in ringlets. "Dress, Check" I said under my breath rubbing the floral pattern of the dress with my thumb. Mom always wanted me to look good when the president visited, though I see no point in it for he's just telling me my next mission.

I bent back down and stareted the conclusion of my essay when the door bell emitted a ringing noise. Here we go. I shuffled down the stairs in my silver, 6-stupid-inch stilettos. Mom and I had had a huge bickerment over the shoes this morning when the president had announced he would be arriving here at six. I didn't think they were nescassay but Mom, being a lawyer, won over the arguement which was why I was wobbling in the crazy high shoes. Wreste men three times my size, easy. Track down jail escapees, slice of pie. Walk in a pair of high heels, not so much.

As I glanced into the din I saw the president along with an exclusive group of the most trained Secret Service men sitting on our long tacky orange sofa we had inherited from my great aunt Leslie when she decided to give away all her furniture and redo her house. Mom said that since the ugly couch was a gift that we had to keep it but I insisted that we throw it in the local dump. I recall me telling her, "Look Mom we aren't going to get any use of this ratty couch so we might as well throw it away and it will be used as a home for alot of sewer rats once it's in the junk yard. See it will help somethings!' But all Mom replied with was a dirty look which meant we would keep the sofa. I decided it would be useless to disagree.

Mom was trying to pour the president a cup of coffee, but he refused. But she insisted and no one not even the president could turn Mom down when she wanted something. He grudgingly took the cup and started sipping at the caffine loaded drink. Walking in I muttered while smirking, 'Now you see what I deal with." The president suppresed a grin, as my mother's pleased look transformed into a scowl.

Sitting on the small couch, I noticed the official tie the president was wearing. He only beared that tie on really special occasions, such as the day he was officially elected president. I didn't know what was so important when all he was going to do was tell me what new house braken I had to deal with. See, I'm a secret agent working for the president of the United States and I have to detect criminals but usually those criminals happen to be just some guys who stole something. I wanted a bigger case, I mean I've been working with the SOSSA for 7 years. Longer than most of the middle aged men working in my field, but I always got stuck with the miner cases. Where I had to trail the paths of harmless culprits who had broken out of jail or figure out who had stolen all the elecrical applainces in some rich person's house. But maybe just maybe I was getting something more like a mystery murder case. A flicker of hope coarsed through my veins. I had been waiting for a murder case for 5 years. The other 3 years I was fine doing all the burgaler scenerios, but when I turned 11 I had longed for something more. And maybe now I was finally getting it.

The president cleared his throat as he placed his mug on the oak coffee table. My attention veered towards the president, anxious to figure out what my next case was and even more anxoius to figure out what kind of case it was. The president fidgeted nervously with the gold plaited watch fastened on his right wrist. He cleared his throat again creating another guteral noise and I relized he wasn't doing that to get all eyes on him but bcause he was nervous. Why would he be nervous? It's not like he was going to do this case.