It just so happened that today, when I was going to the rooftop to play violin, I walked in on a suicide attempt. His name was Cole Doyle, a freshman in French I. He stood by the edge, having already climbed over the edge.

"Don't do it!" I shouted, dropping my violin case and rushing over toward him. "Your life is important. Don't waste it."

"It's no use." He said sadly, not even turning around. "Ever since father's stock dropped.....I've been....poor."

"It's not that bad!" I yelled (the wind made it rather hard to hear.) "I'm a scholarship student. I've life my whole life without boatloads of money and summer houses. You don't have to give up!"

"But I have no money...Life is money...Money is life..."

"Don't do it, Cole."

"I can't...go on...."

I grabbed his shirt. (Thank goodness it was silk, such a strong fabric. It wasn't trashy silk either, but cool, semi-retro silk.) "If you need money so badly, why don't you just get a job?!"

"Work?" Cole said it in the same questioning, half-horrified way that all the other rich boys used when talking about such an unholy subject. "You mean...a job?"

"Yeah. It's not that bad. I mean, sometimes, it's actually fun to work."

Cole's eyes filled with new hope. At least, I hoped it was hope and not something like final resolve or hatred directed tot he arrogant commoner with a fist full of his not-cheap silk shirt.

"Alright." He said after a long moment. "I'll try it."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."


I ran into Cole again at dinner.

"Ethan!" He shouted, running toward me. "You saved me from my own self annihilation. I am forever in your debt."

This was quite a change from the depressed Cole from before. He seemed positively jovial. "No problem." I said offhandedly. "Have you found a job yet?"

"Yep." He smiled smugly. "I am now Adam Carter's personal..." He lowered his voice. "Spy."

"Spy?!" i exclaimed loudly. "Why the hell does that bastard need a spy?"

From behind me I heard 'that bastard' hit himself in the forehead. "Cole." He scolded gently, as if he were speaking to a child. "Didn't we agree that your new job would be a secret?"

"Right, sir." Cole saluted Adam, standing up army-straight and removing the smile from his face.

"Then why did you tell target?" Adam asked.

"The target of an espionage mission should always be informed, sir."

"Where did you hear that?" Adam looked defeated by Cole's stupidity.

"Wait." I said. "You," I pointed at Adam, "hired him," I pointed at Cole, "to spy on me?"

"Right." Both Adam and Cole said at the same time.

"I have to know what the club dog is doing." Adam explained.

If we had been standing closer, I would have punched him. "I'm leaving."

"I'm coming with you." Cole said, practically bouncing along behind me. "Can I carry your bag, Ethan?"

"No. I'm fine."

"What about you're homework? Can I do yours for you?"

"No. I have to learn it myself."

"How about your laundry?"

I turn on my heal. "What's with you? Why are you offering to help? Aren't you supposed to be spying on me?"

"But I am in your debt. You saved me when I thought all hope was lost. You are my new light in the darkness, Lord Ethan."

"Lord?" I repeated.

"Can't I call you lord?"

"No way. I'm poor, remember?"

"Then can I call you Mr. Smith?"

"No! Just call me Ethan."

"If I call you that, can I clean your dorm room?"

"No."

"What about straightening your books?"

"No, thanks."

"Can I shine your shoes? Iron your clothes? Fix you tea in the morning?"

"No!"

"What about a back massage, Lord Ethan?"

"I told you not to call me that."

"Sorry, my lord."

I sighed heavily. There was just no winning against the energetic type.