I've done a lot of research on the Enron scandal of the early 2000s. I wanted to make it count for something, so here you go.

'Ronnie Incorporated'

Spring 2001

The memo lay unread in a corner of Diane Bennett's desk drawer, gathering dust—and dire importance for the global economy.

Diane,
Something is wrong at the company. I know it. They just won't let me prove it. It's all about the money now and no one is listening to some low-level analyst. We used to work together, and you're the only person I can trust with this. Someone on the outside has to know. These documents contain all the information I could find. But what should I do with it? Please help me.

The packet the note had been attached to was gone, as Ms. Bennett had mistaken it for one of the assignments in her high school economics class…
…And given it out to one of her more underachieving students.
The rest was history.

Ω

"Mom? These papers don't make any sense!"

Helen Morgendorffer paced the kitchen floor, preparing coffee with one hand and holding her cell phone with the other. "That's nice, honey. Huh? No, Eric, of course I wasn't talking to you. What's that? You wish I was?" She frowned but forced a good-natured laugh. "Oh, you."
"Muh-ommmm! You're not listening! I can't finish this assignment without you. I've got to get into Pepperhill."
"I'll call you back, Eric," Helen sighed. She hung up and turned to face her youngest daughter.
Quinn sat at the kitchen table with a daunting pile of documents spread out in front of her. She was leaning back and wrinkling her nose as if they smelled bad.

Her mother smiled patiently. "Quinn, remember how I told you what stock is for and what shareholders are, and—"
"Oh Mom, don't fraternize me! I know all about that stuff now. Like anyone still wears stockings anyway."
Helen leaned anxiously over Quinn's shoulder. She couldn't remember the last time her daughter had asked for help with schoolwork. Usually she just wanted a ride to the mall and money for the resulting shopping spree. Now Helen had stumbled on a rare mother/daughter bonding opportunity, and she was terrified of putting a foot wrong.
"I don't think I've seen Daria bring home THIS much paper. What exactly are you supposed to be doing?"
"It's for economics class. We're supposed to look at some papers from a fake company and write about what they're doing wrong. And I got the biggest assignment of anyone in the class. It's not fair!" Quinn pounded the table in frustration. "I was going to complain to Mrs. Bennett but then Sandi said 'gee Ka-winn, I hope your alleged intelligence is not conditional on your sister being the teacher.' So then I HAD to do it!"
Helen gulped as she skimmed over the documents. The more she read, the more confusing it got. "This seems awfully complex…maybe it was a mistake."
"Muh-ommmm! Sandi won't believe that! Are you going to abandon me in my hour of need?!"
"No, honey! Of course I'll help—"
"Great, thanks! Remember it's due on Monday." Quinn smoothly got up from the table.
Helen gave her the evil eye. "You sit down this minute or no gold card for a month."
Quinn gasped and fell back into the chair.

"Now tell me what you've figured out so far, just from looking at it."
Eyeroll, sigh. "Okay, so it's a company called Ronnie Incorporated and they run a lot of gas stations or something."
Helen studied the cover page and nodded. "That's Enron Incorporated, honey. They sell natural gas."
"That's what I said!"
"They're a real company, you know. They're all over the business section these days."
"Muh-om, stop interrupting me! Anyway, Ronnie Incorporated used to just sell gas, but now they're one of the biggest energy companies in the world. They sell power in California so they decide if Hollywood celebrities can dry their hair or not, and they trade a lot of stuff in the future."
"You mean they trade futures on the energy market."
Quinn nodded vigorously. "Yeah. And they're like the cutest and most popular company and everyone loves them or is just jealous of them. And they want to make it look like they're rich and everything, but...they went on a LOT of secret shopping trips and bought fashions that REALLY didn't work out. I mean, just look at all these." Quinn pointed to the offending documents.
Helen stared. Unethical trading and accounting practices. Bad deals with many millions of dollars down the drain. Good money thrown after bad to conceal the debt. A far greater role in the California electricity crisis than anyone suspected. And...
"They're totally cooking their books too," Quinn added. "I mean, ee-yewww! It's not enough that they're egghead freaks, they have to EAT the books when they're done reading them?!"

"Honey," Helen said slowly, "Are you sure these records are made up?"
"For their sake I hope so. I mean, building a giant power plant in India?! Ugh! That's like Gucci building a store in Fremont, no one can afford it! And don't get me started on the nerdy CEO and the sleazy financial guy."
Her mother's head began to ache as she studied the company's plight. "...You mean Jeffrey Skilling and Andrew Fastow."
"Yeah, those guys! They're giving everyone huge bonuses whether their deals make money or not. That's like choosing Tiffany as the prom queen before the prom even happens. What if she gets a big zit or something? And they're telling their workers to put their whole 9021K plans in company stock when it's about to go way down and they're selling theirs for millions. And when a guy asked why Ronnie Incorporated couldn't show their balance sheet, the CEO called him an a-hole. I mean, that's worse than Sandi! I swear all of the executives are crazier than Charlie Sheen. Here's how much they spend on travel expenses alone..."

Helen stared blankly as her daughter continued to rattle off every single problem with 'Ronnie' in fashion savant-speak. Finally the popularity princess finished her tirade and got some carrot sticks from the fridge, saying, "THAT'S why I said these papers don't make any sense. They're, like, so not cute."
"Wow, honey. That's...very good," Helen said when she could speak again. "All you have to do is write that down, and I think you've got an 'A'."
"But I can't! We're out of pink pens!" Quinn whined. "I used up my last one circling all the problems and writing my name on every page. So could you just let me use your fax machine? Thanks!" She took the papers and ran upstairs. Unbeknownst to her as she dialed, the fax numbers of Mrs. Bennett and the Boston Globe differed by exactly one digit. It was the same digit she got wrong.
Oh, well. The life of a popular person was full of distractions.

Ω

Two Weeks Later

"Okay, guys, enough already!" Quinn giggled as journalists from all over the country clamored to snap pictures of their headliner, 'The High School Girl Who Exposed Enron.' She turned and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "...Now get this side."
"Say, Daria," Jane said as they stood off to the side. "Weren't you going to take AP Economics this year?"
"Yes," said the brain whilst hitting her head repeatedly on the side of the house. "Now please...never speak of it...again."

THE END

When you consider that Quinn has hidden intelligence and interprets a wide variety of subjects in fashion terms, this isn't QUITE impossible. xD