The call from the college comes the next morning. I’m still in bed, staring at the ceiling, when my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I grab it, hoping it’s nothing big, but the voice on the other end is cold. “James Lawson, this is Dean Harris. We need you in my office. Now.” My stomach sinks. I don’t even get a chance to ask why, they hang up. I roll out of bed, pull on jeans and a hoodie, and head downstairs. Alex is at the counter, flipping through a ledger, but he looks up when he sees me.
“College wants me in,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “Probably about yesterday.”
He nods, slow. “Want me to come?” His eyes are tired, like he didn’t sleep either.
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” I say, even though I’m not sure. I grab my jacket and head out, the walk to campus feeling longer than usual. The air’s cold, and the town’s awake—people glance at me as I pass, quick looks that stick. I keep my head down, hands in my pockets.
The dean’s office is in the admin building, all wood panels and stiff chairs. Harris is waiting, a big guy with glasses, sitting behind his desk. He doesn’t smile, just points to the seat across from him. I sit, my backpack at my feet, feeling like a kid in trouble.
“We’ve reviewed the situation,” he starts, voice flat. “The police investigation—stolen exam answers, the money trail. Until it’s over, you’re suspended. Effective immediately.”
My mouth goes dry. “What? No—I didn’t do it!” I lean forward, hands gripping the chair. “Those papers aren’t mine. Someone put them there—I’m telling the truth!”
He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “That’s for the police to decide. We’ve got evidence—emails, a deposit slip. The college can’t risk it. You’re out until it’s cleared.”
“But I didn’t—” I start, louder, but he shakes his head.
“Decision’s final, James. You can go.” He looks back at his papers, like I’m already gone. My protests don’t mean anything—he’s not listening. I stand, legs shaky, and grab my bag. The walk out feels like a blur, my head pounding with every step. Suspended. Kicked out. It’s real now.
When I get back to the bookstore, Alex is still at the counter. He looks up, hopeful at first. “What’d they say?” he asks, closing the ledger.
I drop my bag by the door, staring at the floor. “Suspended,” I say, voice low. “Till the investigation’s done. They don’t care I didn’t do it.”
He goes quiet. Too quiet. I look up, waiting for him to say something—tell me it’s okay, that he believes me. But his face changes. It’s not the solid trust from yesterday. There’s a flicker, something uneasy, like he’s not sure anymore. “That’s rough,” he says finally, soft, but it’s not enough. His eyes dart away, and it stings worse than the dean’s words.
“You still think I’m innocent, right?” I ask, needing to hear it. My chest’s tight, waiting.
“Yeah,” he says, quick, but it’s off—like he’s saying it because he has to. “We’ll sort it out.” He turns back to the counter, busying himself with nothing. I stand there, feeling the gap between us grow. He’s not sure. Not like before. I grab my bag and head upstairs, not wanting him to see how much that hurts.
The town’s buzzing by afternoon. I don’t leave the bookstore much, but I hear it anyway—whispers creeping in like smoke. I step out once to grab milk from the corner store, and it’s everywhere. Two classmates, Mike and Sara, are by the register, talking low. They stop when they see me, eyes shifting—like I’m some kind of criminal now. Mike nods, awkward, but Sara just looks away. I pay fast and get out, my face hot.
Back at college, it’s worse. I’ve got stuff to grab from my locker—books, a jacket—since I’m not allowed in class. The halls are full, and people stare. A professor, Mr. Daniels, spots me and turns down another hall quick, like I’m contagious. I keep my head down, shoving my things into my bag, but then Riley’s there. She’s leaning against the lockers, all fake smiles.
“Jamie, hey,” she says, loud enough for others to hear. “Heard about the suspension. That’s awful. You okay?” Her voice drips with pity, but her eyes are sharp, watching me too close. It’s an act—I can feel it. She’s the one who asked about Alex, who’s been weird lately. My missing notebook flashes in my mind, but I don’t say it.
“Yeah, fine,” I mutter, zipping my bag. I push past her, but she follows a step, still talking.
“If you need to talk, I’m here,” she calls, sweet and loud. People turn, and I want to disappear. She’s playing it up, making me look worse. I don’t answer, just keep walking, the whispers trailing me out the door.
Days blur after that. I stay in the bookstore mostly, avoiding the looks. Alex keeps busy downstairs—too busy, like he’s dodging me. When we talk, it’s short, careful. He’s not mad, but he’s not the same either. The town’s talking—I hear it through the walls. “That Lawson kid, caught cheating,” someone says outside one day. “Poor Alex, stuck with him,” another adds. It’s everywhere, and it’s choking me.
Casey shows up that weekend. She’s my best friend—works at the coffee shop down the street, always got my back. I’m in my room, sketching nothing, when she bangs on the door. “Open up, dummy,” she yells. I let her in, and she flops on my bed, arms crossed.
“Heard about the suspension,” she says, straight to it. “Whole town’s got you pegged as some mastermind now. Idiots.”
I shrug, sitting on the floor. “They don’t care I didn’t do it. College kicked me out anyway.”
She sits up, eyes flashing. “That’s crap. You don’t just get emails and money popping up like that. And those exam answers? Come on, Jamie.” She’s mad, pacing now. “I saw Riley at school, acting all sorry for you. She’s full of it—I’d bet my tips she’s involved.”
“Riley?” I say, looking up. My notebook—her weird vibe—it’s been nagging me. “You think she’d do that?”
Casey stops, hands on her hips. “Yeah, I do. She’s got this thing for Alex, always has. And you’re in her way. This isn’t just bad luck. Someone’s doing this to you.”
Her words hit hard. I’ve been thinking it, but hearing her say it makes it real. Riley. The notebook. The way she’s been around Alex. My head spins, and I lean back against the wall, staring at her. She’s furious, fists clenched, like she’s ready to fight someone. I want to believe it’s just a guess, but it fits too well. And if she’s right, what else is coming?