A/N: A massive thank you to Lanekimfan and Lailah Hoshi for the reviews!

Well, what is this business that Menlo, Fingers and Gretchen are in? What exactly is the merchandise?

You're about to find out

Happy reading! Please R&R!

WARNING: This chapter may not be suitable for young readers!

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Clapping my hand onto my chest, I threw myself against the side of the wall. I had never run so fast! The cold weather made my throat sore as a rasped for breath, making me dizzy.

Urgh, I had to sit down.

I slowly slid down the side of the brick wall, scraping the fabric of my coat as I fell. My coat had been through a lot today, not that I really cared; I had more important things to think of. I held my head in my hands and sighed through my panting.

'TJ is such an idiot!' I said to myself, throwing my fists onto the blacktop. 'What kind of person would turn down Spinelli?' My desperate thoughts were interrupted by the hushed conversation from around the corner. I stood up, flattening myself against the wall and drew out the pager case from my coat. I didn't get the same feeling from it as I normally did. Instead I was reminded of how vulnerable she sounded, how scared she was of his answer. How could he let her be so tormented? How could she love someone who treated her like that? I turned the case over in my hands and ran my finger along the engraving, the fingerprints dulling the shine as they went along. I held it up and angled it around the corner, flashbacks of Fingers flashing through my mind.

Oh for god's sake.

It was Grotke and Gretchen, what were they doing now? Gretchen was really playing with fire; this woman was determining her future education! I slid further towards the corner so I could hear. Grotke's voice was awful, wavering and stuttering. She kept scratching her hands like she had an unbearable itch, causing thick red lines to run across them. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot and she kept blinking at a rapid speed, as if moths had flown into her head and were trying to escape.

I guess I pitied her, pitied what Gretchen had turned her into; her merchandise had driven Grotke mad.

'What the hell are you playing at Grotke? You could be a bit more subtle you know,' Gretchen said, polishing her nails and glancing lazily up at her.

'Gretchen, I have th-the money, I ne-ne-need something, please!' she replied, burrowing her shaking hands into her distressed bag and bringing out a small leather wallet. Gretchen snatched it and flipped through the money inside, her glasses sliding like a slug down her greasy nose.

'Ok Grotke, you have enough for…one more batch,' Gretchen said, stuffing the wallet inside her pocket.

'ONE! Grotke screeched, using a voice that could have shattered her glasses. Gretchen grabbed her shoulders and anxiously told her to 'shh'. Then, glancing around twice, slowly released them.

'Ok…two then; I only have two left though Grotke, so don't come to me again.'

'OK! Gretchen, that's-that's fine, just…. giv-give it to me,' Grotke stuttered, holding her vein-ridden hands out as if she was begging.

Gretchen once again looked around and beckoned Grotke into the school. I knew what she was doing. I remembered the box that I had left in her locker and slapped my forehead.

Damn it.

She had to keep making deals? Even after all the trouble we were in? Stupid girl. As Grotke and Gretchen slipped through the door I decided to follow and opened the door so it was slightly ajar. I couldn't hear anything but I could see Gretchen walking to her locker, a hunched Grotke following closely behind. She brought out the box and handed it to her. Grotke grinned and slipped herself into the nearest classroom, nodding fiercely at Gretchen as she went.

Well at least that was it, the merchandise was over, and maybe I could rest easier now there were no more connections.

I sighed through the crack in the door. Gretchen was putting on makeup in the mirror in her locker. She applied the lip-gloss with immaculate care and pouted at her reflection. I was amazed that she didn't care about what she was doing to Grotke; she was so self-centred it made me sick. She blew a kiss to the picture of me that was hung on the door of the locker and flounced off to the canteen.

When the coast was clear, I slid myself through the heavy door, jumping as it slammed behind me. I crept up to the door of the classroom and peered through the dusty window.

Grotke was hunched over the table, her body was jerking and her arms were dashing around in front of her. I could see her spine jutting out of her back and her hair was surrounding her face. It made me sick to see 'customers' of the league this way, which is why I never sell to them, I only supply the dealers.

Yes, dealers.

Well I guess it's time to tell you, even though you might know already: Gretchen, Menlo, Fingers and many others, were the elite drug dealers of the district and of third street school.

Stupid you think? How can these school kids be criminals and supply the city with their merchandise?

Think about it for a second, they have the perfect cover don't they?

Who would expect children to have a league and an industry controlling all of the illegal substances that came into the city?

No one, that's who!

Well… at least that's what we thought.