Now, I live in the whitehouse. I share a suite with my best friend, eat awesome meals, wear cool clothes, and have fun. I also train six hours a day, see my parents once a month, and stand around at formal functions pretending to be someone else. It’s a trade off, really. But Sarah is fun. The real Sarah, I mean. She’s my best friend. We call each other “Dearest Doppelganger”. She teaches me about boys (I’m clueless, having already been a professional bodyguard when I hit puberty) and I teach her about fighting and stuff. We have a lot of fun together.

But this isn’t about that. This is about what I did last year. The thing that got me in major, major trouble. The thing I never should have done. The thing I’m so glad I did.