"Shit."

Lana Winters lifted up her right foot to reveal a sticky mess of gum stringing off the bottom of her nude heels. Sighing, she hobbled over to the deep brown bench cowering under the majestic willow tree at the school's front entrance. She began to scrape her shoe on the curb next to the bench as she checked her rose gold watch for what felt like the hundredth time in the span of five minutes. As she examined the time, she mindlessly dug into her purse and pulled out her favorite leather bound notepad and sleek black pen. She had used these on her first day of reporting on the job half a year ago, and she swore to use them until she hit her big break. And of course, despite channeling her inner Upton Sinclair, investigating the recent scandal on what exactly was in the meatloaf lunches at Roosevelt Elementary School didn't exactly count as making it big.

A bell chimed as Lana looked up to a sea of children flooding the worn out gravel steps at the school's entrance. Adjusting her lucky "L" pin on her navy blue blazer, she waited a moment before she began to fight through the swarm of students to reach the school doors. The hallway was cool and bright, a thin row of windows above the classroom doors letting the fresh spring air breathe life into the otherwise bleak surroundings. Paint was chipping off the walls, Lana noted, with locker doors rusting and falling off their hinges. The rhythm of her stilettos bounced up and down the walls, echoing the slow beat of her footsteps as she peered sneakily into an open classroom.

A grid of dingy desks lay facing a small chalkboard, hazy white with dust and half-erased words. A woman sat in the corner of the room, perched at a tan desk and scribbling away rapidly with a flower-topped pen. She was gnawing at her bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, sleek dark brown curls slipping out ever so slowly from behind her ears. Lana's eyes became fixated on the woman, her attention deviated from the task at hand. She began to play with her pen out of nervousness, twirling it between her fingers as she observed the stranger. Before she knew it, her pen hit the floor with a dull thud, and the woman's eyes darted up and met hers.

"Need something?" the woman asked, her curious eyes locked onto Lana's.

Lana bent down slowly to pick up her pen, words catching in her throat unlike they ever had before. She cleared her throat and smoothed out her pleated skirt as she rose up.

"Um, yes, can you point me to the cafeteria? I'm Lana Winters, from the Gazette, and I'm here to interview the cooks in charge about the scandal involving the ingredients in the kids' lunches," she explained, her gaze deviating down from the woman's as she prayed she wasn't blushing. Usually, she was beyond calm, cool, and collected in most situations, but she felt flustered and embarrassed in front of the stranger.

"Thank God, I've been dying to know what's in the crap lunches they serve here. I mean, it's free but that doesn't mean it's good," the woman replied casually. "But anyway, yeah, it's just all the way at the end of the hall, go out the doors, and take a right when you see the walrus with the glasses," she retorted, clearly working to repress a laugh. Lana's head tilted in confusion. "You'll know it when you see it," she added, unable to contain herself as her slight smirk evolved into a full blown, charmingly crooked smile. Lana took a second to process, distracted by the woman's grin, and gave a small smile back in return.

"I guess I'll just take your word for it. Thank you, Miss…"

"Peyser. Wendy Peyser." Lana nodded as her eyes darted around nervously, and thought Wendy had winked ever so quickly at her. Calling it a trick of the light, Lana quickly turned around and continued back down the hall. She suddenly became aware, all at once, of her elevated heart rate. She was breathing ever so quickly, and butterflies tickled the inside of her stomach.

Mindlessly traveling down the empty hall, Lana's thoughts blurred. Planned statistics about children's obesity and the fat content of ground beef drifted away as Wendy's face took over her thoughts. She had learned, years ago, how to stop being so nervous in front of women. What made this so different? Why did this stranger bring her back to her closeted high school days? Lana overanalyzed every little question as she wandered away, Wendy's directions repeating in her head, her trance only broken by the loud thud of the metal doors slamming shut as she walked through them.

Her senses once again alert, she found herself in a small square patio area encased by planter boxes full of various kinds of blooming flowers. Stone paths led off in different directions, all centered at a towering, large brass statue of Teddy Roosevelt. As Lana cautiously moved along the pathway, she approached the statue, and noticed two long ivory chopsticks taped sloppily upon the thick mustache resting on Roosevelt's face. Lana stood back and chuckled to herself as she saw the face of Theodore Roosevelt, an esteemed president of the United States, morph into a walrus's face right before her eyes, and knew what Wendy had suggested. Her smile took it's time melting off of her face, her happiness too stubborn to fade away so quickly, as she turned right and followed the flower-lined pathway to the large glass cafeteria awaiting ahead of her.

…

Lana flipped through the various pages of notes she took, the sound of crisp pages fluttering in her hand like a drug to her. Testimonial by various lunch ladies on the safety regulations enacted by the FDA drowned out the rest of her thoughts as she tried to think up a way to formulate these sub-par facts into a groundbreaking paper. Everybody has to start somewhere, she thought, but her journalism career was getting off on too slow a start for her taste. She continued to look through her notes, searching for any ways to possibly make a story out of this, as she approached Wendy's classroom once again.

This time, however, the wooden door was shut, yet the protruding golden bronze doorknob was practically inviting Lana to walk in. Biting her lip, she laid her hand upon the knob, but retracted her arm before she could turn it. What was she thinking? Was she really expecting to start something with this random teacher she had barely spoken to? She knew nothing about her, and after all, this was a trip intended strictly for business. It would be crazy and illogical, Lana reasoned, to even fathom going back in to see Wendy again. She was just another stranger encountered during a day on the job that she would never see again.

Shaking her head, Lana continued the walk back out the school, clearing her mind of the alluring teacher she had met earlier. Her focus once again plastered onto her story, she blindly wandered through the parking lot to her car. It wasn't until she had sat down that she noticed the small yellow piece of paper tucked under her windshield wipers. Lana slowly exited her car and diligently picked up the note.

Lana,
Maybe you, me and the walrus could meet up sometime for lunch? You can tell me all about what's in the shit lunch I'll be eating that day.
-Wendy

Lana reread the note over once more to make sure she was comprehending everything. Her stomach did mini backflips as she processed the bubbly words written across the page. Before she knew it, she was smiling ear to ear, feeling like a little kid being told they could have ice cream for dinner. Suddenly, the gentle purr of a car engine approached Lana, and the squeak of brakes indicated the car was slowing down. Lana turned around to see Wendy driving past her in a cool pastel green car, her window rolled down and eyes once again locked onto hers. They smiled meaningfully at each other, and Wendy gave a seductive wink before driving onto the main road. Lana stood outside her car, time frozen like the expression on her face, because this time, she knew it wasn't a trick of the light.