‘Zaria ‘Zero’ Shaw’ 1985-2010 ‘ “You were always too smart for your own good. And everyone knew that. Even your murderer.” - Peppermint Jones, 2011

The smell of ink and fresh paper filled the room. Zaria was used to this. Her job required it. The sounds of faint screams coming from her boss—He was yelling about a comma—and the way the wind rushed in from the windows. You would think making newspapers and selling them would be a simple yet calming job. You could not be more wrong in this case.

Zaria had now been on her fourth cup of hot chocolate. She refused to drink coffee, considering it would make her shorter than she already was. Her short locs tied into two low ponytails. They were uneven but she didn’t look in a mirror today so she excused herself. The ends of her locs faded into a soft, striking red—the exact shade of her favorite character from that one game she never shut up about. She says it's ‘inspired by a cool and chill hedgehog’ in her opinion. She was dressed…nicely. Gold necklaces on top of a bright graphic tee. Gold and homemade bracelets laid on her wrists. Shorts in the middle of winter. The tallest and craziest socks imaginable, and bright purple sneakers. Not an ideal outfit to wear to work, but she never cared.

  Phones were ringing, journalists were running up and down, even some guy a while ago started yelling about forgetting his lunch at home; Running around the office. Everyone was in a panic today. Except for Zaria. Strangely, this 23 year old was always in a good mood. Despite it raining outside and her car breaking down the day before, Zaria stayed on task and kept a positive vibe. But to every good person, is a non-ignorable flaw. 

Spinning in her chair after finishing up her work, Zaria had been thinking. Which could be a good or bad thing. ‘I can’t believe he stole my lunch.’ She thought to herself. Thirty minutes ago, Zaria was almost jumping for joy. She was thinking about eating her cold pizza all day. The microwave in her house doesn’t work anymore so she has to wait until she gets to work to eat. When she skipped her way to the break room, and gladly swung the door open; It was gone. Disappointed, Zaria started to sulk. She had really wanted her lunch. She put her name on it and everything. While walking back to her desk, she noticed a familiar bag in the trash. The plastic bag with stickers that she had her pizza in. Curious, she turns to see her editor’s desk. This is her trash can. “Hey, Diana?” Trying to grab her editor’s attention. She was talking with someone over the phone. She quickly ended the conversation and hung up. “What can I do for you, kid? Trying to catch me up on how you called someone out for lying about a bug?” Diana was a brown woman, long silk hair and autumn eyes. In her mid 20s. Her voice was caring and that's why Zaria enjoyed her company. “No actually. But in fact that guy was lying. He claimed he saw a Tiger Beetle; a very diverse one in fact; in Europe, Tiger Beetles are endangered and usually only found in North America. Plus, he claimed it was a pink color so that also—” Zaria stopped for a moment. Realizing she was getting off track. “Anyways—Someone at my pizza.” The annoyance in her voice slightly slipped out. “My bag was in your trash can.” Stating the obvious. She had shown the bag to Diana and she inspected it. “Mh, I don't know why it’s here. I already ate my lunch.” Diana slid away from her desk to reveal her lunchbox. Open and empty with trash left inside. “Who passes by your desk to get to the break room?” 

Zaria had always had a knack for solving puzzles. One of her strengths. But I guess you could say being “childish” held her back. “Only Max and Kayla pass by my desk today.” Zaria had already heard enough. She took her bag back from Diana and went by the break room. Right on the left, Max was sitting at his desk. Pretending as if he did nothing wrong. 

Walking up in a hurry, Zaria took a stance right next to his desk. He slowly started to look up at her and he leaned back. “What’s wrong Zaria?” Max said, his voice slightly going off pitch. ‘Common sign of lying.’ Zaria thought. She didn’t say anything, hoping Max would do more to confirm that he ate her pizza. He just stared at her. Eye contact being consistently broken, hand gestures, slightly moving in his chair. This just convinced Zaria even more. “Why did you eat my pizza?” Zaria said, “I was looking forward to that!” Her voice was very high pitched, almost like a kid. But that wasn’t her real voice, just a cover voice. Covering her slightly deep natural voice, which used to freak people out compared to what she looked like. “What makes you think I ate your pizza?” He said, attempting to deflect. Switching it on her instead of himself. “You and Summer are the only ones that passed by Diana’s desk today.” Zaria stated, folding her arms. “Yeah, but what makes you think it isn’t Sum–” “I’m not finished.” Zaria interrupted. Max gestured his hands up then folded them. “You were yelling before. Yelling about forgetting your lunch at home.” Zaria then pointed to his hands. “It smells like cheese and pepperoni in here, not to mention you have grease on your hands.” She then pointed to his trash can. “I think I can remember you telling me you hate crust on pizza. Well, there is crust in your trash can.” Feeling proud of herself, Zaria smiled. “Very good deductioning skills but, how do you know it was your pizza? For all you know, I could have gotten that from someone else.” Zaria didn’t think of that. She stayed very still for a moment, gaining her concentration. She analyzed Max, along with his office. Nothing out of the ordinary. Max still had the same black hair, blue eyes, and freckles like usual. He was still swole, which Zaria was a bit jealous of. His clothes are ironed neatly, and his shirt—

Zaria swiftly pointed to Max’s shirt. He quickly unfolded his hands and noticed there was a small sticker stuck to his clothes. “Only I use those stickers and they were on my pizza bag!” Zaria yelled, disrupting the whole office. “You ate my pizza!” Max didn’t have to admit it, Zaria’s mind was set. He ate her pizza. And he was going to pay. 

“It was delicious.” He said, smirking to himself. “I know. That’s why I wanted it…” 

Now, Zaria was sitting without lunch. She had taken care of Max, but what was she going to eat now? She had gotten so hungry, so bored, so irritated: that she started chewing on her pens. Anyone that doesn’t know Zaria would have thought she was mad. But the people around the office knew of her erratic, lunatic, but adorably nice behavior. She was so used to biting the tips of anything you could write with. Before her mother died, she had bought her edible markers and pens. They aren’t the best for writing but Zaria uses them anyway. She always tells herself that having things stored in memory is better than writing anything down. 

“Shaw!” Her boss’ voice had called out. He sounded angry. Irritated. Annoyed. Zaria had started thinking of synonyms for angry, almost forgetting that her boss was angry. After hearing her name yelled again, she quickly stood up and rushed over. She went from skipping to running in almost an instant. She accidentally slid past her boss’ office while running.

“Shaw.” Zaria was now sitting in front of her boss. A grumpy guy in his 60s; His brown hair now almost completely white. Whether from old age or all the stress he claims he gets at this place, Zaria never questioned it. “Got a report right here, it’s for tomorrow.” He laid out the file in front of her. “Elle Summers: Richest woman in this century at the moment.” “Oh I’ve heard of her. Isn’t she suing her bank?”  “That's correct; she allegedly claims that she had been losing big amounts of money.” 

Her boss nodded slowly, pushing the file closer. “I want you on it.” Zaria blinked. “Me? You sure? I mean, people say I have a habit of overanalyzing and being annoying.” He stared at her, deadpan. “Doesn't matter. I see you around the office, you can get answers out of people.” Zaria gave a dramatic gasp. “Are you saying I’ve been promoted to real journalism? Like, actual ‘go find the truth’ journalism?” “No,” her boss said flatly. “I’m saying you're the only one insane enough to ask the right questions without getting scared off.” “Oh.” 

She flipped it open like she was unveiling a prophecy. “Elle Summers, thirty-six, CEO of Summers International. Current net worth: several ‘too-many zeroes to count’ billion dollars. Recent lawsuit filed against—oof—her own bank? Accusing them of siphoning off funds.” Zaria’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Why do I feel like this is less ‘banking error’ and more ‘On Purpose’ but Make It Rich Lady Drama?”  “There’s always drama going on. We are literally a company making money off it.” Her boss didn’t hesitate to admit that. “Welp, no need to worry boss man. I got it.” Her hand curled into a thumbs up, and she practically skipped her way out of his office. “Shaw—” “Bye!”

As soon as the day ended, Zaria wished everyone goodbye and made her way to her car. To say the least—Zaria dressed exactly like her car. Vibrant colors, stickers, cool license plate border. Anything she could customize, she would. Of course, nothing had a theme. If she saw it and liked it, she would get it. It looked like a unicorn had thrown up on her and her car. 

Inside, she quickly fastened her seatbelt, took out her ponytails and took off her bracelets. She checked in the rear-view mirror once, before driving away.  Usually, Zaria would have her whole route planned out to go straight home. Occasionally stopping for food. But this time was different. She now had turned left instead of right. Left was the direction of Elle Summers’ mansion. She passed by it once when she came to New York for the first time and got lost. 

‘Big house.’ Zaria thought, she parked across the street from the mansion and stared out the window. She dared not to get any closer, seeing as four security guards had been watching her since she pulled up. A large pink and white house. ‘Kinda reminds me of the white house…But pink.’ Three stories high, a football field wide. Zaria wondered how anyone could afford that house, especially in New York. ‘Wonder if Elle Summers is a cool person.’ She pondered. Obsessive over a woman she hasn’t even met yet. She had a bad habit of sticking her head into people’s business too often. Wanting to know every detail, leaving nothing out. ‘I should get food.’ Zaria was about to pull away but not before noticing someone running out. Dark hair swinging behind them. They seemed in a rush. ‘Oh?’ Someone else followed them out. Now Zaria was clinging to her car door. Cheek pressed onto the window. Trying her best to see what was happening. The person behind, in a blue suit, grabbed on the woman with a purple dress. They grabbed her wrist but she quickly swung her arm away. ‘Ooo a dispute—that’s not weird.’ The woman had walked away, leaving the other person standing there. Then walking back to the mansion. ‘Oh my boss is going to have a field day with this one.’