Not all Natashas are Pottsylvanian spies — but just to be safe, you might not want to turn your back on them.
Like Kate, it's hard to imagine Natasha in high school. In my image of her, she's wearing high heels and a pencil skirt, sitting at an outdoor café, drinking and espresso and smoking a cigarette while she waits to give you sensitive information. Or to get such information from you, while making you think she's giving it. If Natasha hands you a briefcase, I can pretty much guarantee that it contains not the documents you paid a million Swiss francs for, but a single rose and a handwritten note that says, "Better luck next time." That's just how she rolls.