The Liu’s have a family business, to say the least. If stealing thousands of paintings, statues, and other works of art count as a business. And just like every other teenager who’s been told they’re taking over the mom and pop store, Amber wants to leave. But unlike every other heir, Amber actually does. She’s ready to walk away from everyone close to her; even if they’re family, even if they’re friends. Like every great con in history it takes place at night. She sneaks out like a normal teenager through the window except she does it like her parents taught her. Lugging her small suitcase behind her she leaves no trace behind her except for a note. It’s written on a small piece of white paper in black ink. It just says, ‘I left.’ She left it on her bed, next to her pillow. They’d know she didn’t just leave for a short walk; it’d be for a while if she had it her way.

▬ ♦ ▬

A group of students stood around the spectacle in the main courtyard admiring the handiwork of a fellow classmate.

“How do you think she did it?”

They were talking about the mysterious girl from Korea, who spoke with a perfect American accent. Some speculated that she was the daughter of some Asian gangster who wanted to protect their daughter. Others thought she was the long lost princess of Korea, none of them smart enough to realize that her last name wasn’t even Korean. Amber simply rolled her eyes as she heard the whispers down the hallway. She was actually Chinese, but had lived all over Asia. While she had encountered many gangsters, she was not the daughter of one. And she certainly was not a princess. She was a thief.

As Amber sat in the large leather chairs in the headmaster’s office she kept her best game face on. As the implications against her piled up she did her best effort to monitor her breathing and pulse. She could con her way out of anything, she was a freakin’ Liu for goodness sake. It was what she had grown up learning. But something deep inside her told her that she wasn’t getting out of this one, even if she really didn’t do it. How many private school students got away with putting the headmaster’s 1967 Mustang in the courtyard’s fountain with the windows open. Even Amber had to admire the genius behind this prank despite the fact they decided to frame her.

“Miss Liu,” said the headmaster in that pompous voice of his, “You do realize the offense that you have committed is not only against me, but this school?”

Because this school certainly cared about vintage cars. She kept quiet, not willing to admit defeat just yet.

“The charges against you are not only stealing private property, defacing school property, but you did all this approximately at two in the morning-- violating curfew. Do you understand?”

“I didn’t do it.”
            “The charges, Miss Liu, I believe I asked you if you understand them,” he said in a tired voice.

“Yes, sir. I do.”

“Good,” he smiled a little, “Now you claim that you are not responsible for the crime. Shall we go over the evidence against you?”

Amber didn’t answer, but even if she bothered to protest she’s sure he would ignore her.

“You stated that you were in your room studying, on a Friday night no less. But it seems like you had forgotten one detail in your… adventure; security cameras. Did you not think Whitman Academy would not have any?” Actually Amber had noted them the first day she had arrived; old habits die hard.

The headmaster motioned to a large tv screen mounted on his wall. He pushed a few buttons on the remote and the screen came to life. The screen displayed a grainy black and white image that could only be produced by second-rate security cameras. In the image there was a figure dressed in a black sweatshirt.

“That’s not me. I’ve never seen that person before.”

“You see Miss Liu; the dormitory doors were opened that night, only once, at 2:05 a.m. And it was opened using this student identification card.” The security camera footage switched to a particularly unflattering picture of Amber on her Whitman ID card. “This is your ID is it not?”

“It is.” A lump started to form in Amber’s throat, she was starting to see where this was headed.

“Also, when a search was done to your room this was found,” he held a personalized license plate—WHITMAN’S #1— in his hands. He gazed mournfully down at the hunk of metal that was once attached to his precious convertible. Amber wasn’t sure how to react. She had gotten out of so many other situations where she had been accused, but she had never been wrongfully accused before.

“That is certainly a lot of evidence Mr. Conners, but don’t you think it’s a little too much? You have to give me a little bit of credit—that I wouldn’t be stupid enough to use my own ID card to open the door.”

The headmaster scoffed, “And how exactly would you have done it? Pray tell, Miss Liu, how would you steal the headmaster’s 1967 convertible mustang and get away with it?”

He was baiting her, she knew, but she couldn’t help but think about it. One of the fire exits are broken, it won’t go off if you open it. And that leads out to the south wall of the dorms where there is a blind spot in the cameras. Plus she’d like to think that she’d pull it off with a little bit more finesse, not just sloppily putting the car on top of the fountain where the headmaster’s office didn’t even have full view of.

Mr. Conners took her silence as admitting defeat. A smug look formed on his face, a look of victory.

“Do you have anything else you would like to say for yourself?” There wasn’t much else she could say. Obviously her ID had been duplicated, the license plate planted in her room, someone dressed like her and made sure to be caught on camera. Amber Liu had been framed, and they were good, very good.

▬ ♦ ▬

Amber packed her bags in under an hour and there was a knock on the door signaling that her ride was here. She took one last look at her room. It was her last time in this life, the life she stole. She imagined it would be a story that would be told around Uncle YoonSung’s fireplace years to come. Little Amber conned her way into a boarding school in America and then got expelled. She stole a whole other life to get away from this one, but ended up walking right back in.

The black stretch limo made its way through the tall iron gates of Whitman. It stopped in front of the girl that no longer wore the school’s uniform. The trunk was popped and the driver came over to take the girl’s bags. Amber turned around one last time to see many faces watching her. They were probably wondering how she’d done it. I’m wondering the same thing. The faces turned away as soon as the bells signaling it was time to go to class rang; as soon as the magic that was Amber Liu was gone.

She opened the door and slid in the car. Her palms rested against the cool leather and she sighed, “Well, guess that adventure’s over.” If Amber was a normal teenage girl she would have screamed or at least be startled, but she isn’t. So when another voice said, “Oh, it’s just beginning,” she didn’t even jump.