The restrictions were a pain, but a thousand times better than getting sent back to White Boulder. Charlie’s face was alight as she walked out, pulling her phone to call Harry. She’d hoped she might catch him before the end of his lunch break, but had to settle for voicemail.

29 TEACHERS ARE DICKS

The buzzer had gone for Queensbridge Academy’s first afternoon lesson, but Harry was desperate to return a call. The school’s darkroom hadn’t been used in years and he glanced over his shoulder before unlocking the door.

The windowless space had a lingering smell of photographic chemicals. He flipped a switch, illuminating three deep-red bulbs, relocked the door from inside and propped his ass against a steel sink with a dripping faucet.

His phone’s screen made more light than the bulbs. Harry made sure his call-recording app was enabled, dialled the number of a missed call and waited several rings before a man answered.

‘Who’s there?’

‘Is that Earl? This is Harry Smirnov from Vegas Local. I’m returning the messages you left, about a possible story.’

‘I’m Earl,’ he said, halfway between confused and scared. ‘Sorry about the other phone. I started getting weird calls and had to ditch it. What’s your beef with the Janssens, Harry?’

‘I don’t have a beef,’ Harry lied.

‘But I’ve read that you don’t take their advertisements.’

Harry didn’t want to go into personal stuff about Charlie and getting his nuts wrung, so he waffled. ‘Vegas Local depends on a strong relationship with the community. We select our advertising partners carefully and Janssen Corp put a lot of noses out of joint.’

‘You mean they’re a bunch a dirty crooks,’ Earl croaked, then broke into a rasping laugh.

Harry smiled. ‘I couldn’t say that, sir. Especially online, cos the Janssens can afford to sue my ass.’

‘The local TV stations swim in Janssen dollars,’ the old guy said, a touch suspicious. ‘I admire your decency, but how old are you, boy?’

‘Twenty,’ Harry said.

‘You’re all so young these days,’ Earl snorted. ‘Drop out of college and a billionaire by twenty-five, eh?’

‘I live in hope.’

‘Got quite an accent there, son. You Australian?’

Harry avoided answering. ‘I’m under a lot of time pressure,’ he said – not admitting that the pressure was fourth-period chemistry. ‘I understand you have a story.’

‘If you’ve got balls big enough to run it.’

‘OK,’ Harry said, preferring not to think too much about balls.

‘You know about SNor?’

Harry laughed. ‘Hard to miss.’

‘What about HHD, the Hotel Hygiene Directive?’ Earl asked.

‘Nope.’