Burke’s Little Secret

C-2 P-3

"Noah, I transferred to Pomona exactly three days ago,"I said, gesturing to the half-unpacked boxes lining my walls and the tangled nest of wires on my desk. "I am still trying to figure out where the dining hall is, let alone balance my own classes. My introductory assignment for the advanced literature seminar is a massive reverse-engineering project—literally taking apart a classic, tracing its structural lineage, and replicating its linguistic framework—and it's due this coming Tuesday."

I tapped the heavy spine of my book frantically. "I have to completely map, deconstruct, and replicate the narrative architecture of an epic poem in less than a week. And because I'm a new transfer face, the library's restricted rare-text vaults are blocked for me until my registration fully processes next month. If I can't get eyes on the original translated folio by the weekend, I fail my very first college grade here."

Noah noticed the shift in my posture. A slow, calculating smile crept onto his face.

“What if I told you that Issac is willing to do a little quid pro quo?" Noah murmured. "You need a restricted text before Tuesday? Issac has a 24-hour master keycard to the basement of the Roberts Pavilion over at CMC, which connects directly to the Gould Rare Book Archives because his family literally funded the wing. The donor study down there has a digital scanner and physical access to the 19th-century folios sitting completely idle. He’ll give you the card tonight if you keep him eligible. You can bypass the Pomona bureaucracy and finish your project by tomorrow morning."

I froze. My fingers hovered over my notepad. The logic centers of my brain were screaming that this was a terrible, messy idea. I had been on this campus for less than seventy-two hours. If Levi found out I was already sneaking around with the team captain—the very guy Levi had explicitly banned from my radius—the fallout would be nuclear.

But the thought of getting my hands on those archival folios to completely crush my Tuesday deadline made my chest tighten with pure, academic greed. With that access, I could map the poem's structural bones in a single night.

“He has to come to the Pomona side,"I said flatly, turning back to my desk and grabbing a fresh legal pad. "I'm not walking over to CMC where Levi can spot us. Honnold Mudd steps. 7:00 PM tonight. Tell Issac to wear a hoodie, keep his head down, and if he's late, the deal is off."

Noah leaped off the bed, catching his soccer ball on the bounce, his face lighting up with absolute relief.

"You're a lifesaver, AB. I’ll make sure Levi stays occupied at the athletic center all night."

"You better,"I warned, pointing a pen at him.

"Because if Levi catches us, I'm telling him this whole thing was your idea."

"Fair enough," Noah grinned, unlocking the door and slipping out into the hallway like a ghost.