Chapter 47
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
It wasn't a bee. It wasn't my phone vibrating.
It was the sound of people whispering.
I stepped through the university gates, clutching my backpack straps so tight my knuckles were white. Usually, I hop-skip-jump my way in! Usually, I say "Good Morning!" to the guard and wave at the stray cats!
But today... the air felt heavy. Like soup. Thick, judgmental soup.
Everywhere I looked, eyes were on me.
A group of girls near the fountain stopped talking when I walked by. They leaned in, whispering behind their hands, looking at me with pity. Or maybe disgust?
A guy from my Calculus class pointed at me and nudged his friend.
"That's her best friend, right?" "Yeah, the girl in the video..." "Yikes."
My heart hammered against my ribs. Thump-thump-thump.
I kept walking. Chin up! Just like Gabriel would do! (Except Gabriel would probably glare at them until they exploded).
"It's not true!" I blurted out to a random girl who was staring at me.
The girl blinked, startled.
"It's fake!" I insisted, my voice trembling a little. "It's... it's AI! It's deepfake! Stephie isn't that kind of girl! She is a church choir member! She bakes cupcakes! It's all lies!"
The girl just looked at me awkwardly and walked away fast.
I walked faster.
"It's fake," I whispered to myself. "It's fake. It's fake."
If I say it enough times, maybe it will become true?
★
I had a coding class. I didn't want to go. I wanted to curl up in a ball and hide in a hole. But... I need my grades. I need my Latin Honors. It's the only thing I have that isn't bought with Gabriel's money.
I walked into the lab.
The air conditioner was humming. The smell of electronics and floor wax filled the room.
Usually, this is my happy place! Computers! Keyboards! The internet!
But today, it felt like a cage.
I sat at my usual station in the middle row.
"Hey, Aleesha," a girl named Sarah leaned over. "Is... is Stephie okay?"
I turned to her. Finally! Someone who cares!
"She is... she is resting," I lied (sort of). "But Sarah! You have to believe me! The video is fake! Someone put Stephie's face on... on another body! Like in the sci-fi movies!"
Sarah bit her lip. "I don't know, Aleesha... it looked pretty real. And everyone knows she was dating Chad."
"Chad is a liar!" I hissed. "Chad is a cheater! And the woman in the video is NOT Stephie! It's... it's a clone! A stunt double!"
Sarah looked skeptical. She turned back to her screen.
I looked around. Everyone was whispering. Everyone had their phones out.
And then... I heard it.
From the back row.
Giggle. Moan. Thud.
The sound coming from the speakers.
My blood turned to ice.
I whipped my head around.
The "Back Row Boys." You know them. The guys who wear their caps backward and think loud chewing is a personality trait. There were five of them. They were huddled around one computer.
And on the screen... playing on full volume... was The Video.
They were laughing.
"Dude, look at that face!" "Chad is a legend, bro." "She looks so innocent in class, but damn..." "Replay it! Replay the part where..."
Red.
I saw red.
Not pink. Not strawberry red.
I saw the color of rage. The color of fire. The color of a nuclear explosion.
My hands started shaking. Not from fear. From... fury.
I promised myself I would never hurt a person. Violence is bad! Jesus says turn the other cheek! My mom says use your words!
But these boys... these boys were laughing at my best friend's worst nightmare. They were mocking her pain. They were feasting on her ruin like vultures.
Ugh!
I stood up. My chair scraped loudly against the floor. SCREECH.
The whole class went quiet.
I marched to the back of the room. My steps were heavy. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
I reached the boys. They didn't even look up. They were too busy laughing.
I didn't say a word.
I reached over the monitor.
CLICK.
I pressed the power button.
The screen went black. The sound died.
The boys looked up, confused.
"Hey! What the hell?" the leader, a guy named Kevin, snapped.
I didn't stop. I reached for the next computer. Click. Off.
And the next. Click. Off.
"Aleesha! Stop it!" Kevin stood up. He was tall. He loomed over me. "What is your problem, crazy girl?"
"My problem," I said, my voice shaking with pure adrenaline, "is that you are watching trash! You are garbage! That is my best friend!"
"So?" Kevin smirked. A nasty, cruel smirk. "She's the one who filmed it. We're just appreciating the art."
The other boys laughed.
"Yeah, tell Stephie we said thanks for the show," another guy sneered.
SNAP.
Something inside me broke. The rubber band of my patience snapped in half.
I didn't think. I didn't calculate. I didn't use logic.
I made a fist. A tight, tiny fist.
And I swung.
POW!
I punched Kevin right in the face!
Okay, maybe not a knockout punch. Maybe more like a flailing hammer fist. But it connected! Right on his cheekbone!
"OW!" Kevin stumbled back, clutching his face. "You psycho!"
The class gasped. GASP!
Kevin's face turned red. He looked furious.
He shoved me.
Hard.
"Get off me!" he yelled.
I flew backward. My feet tangled. I was falling!
Oof!
I braced for the hard floor, but arms caught me. Sarah and another classmate grabbed my arms, stopping me from hitting the ground.
"Aleesha! Stop!" Sarah cried.
But I couldn't stop. I broke free from their grip.
I looked around. I needed a weapon! I needed... justice!
My eyes landed on a chair. A metal folding chair.
I grabbed it. It was heavy, but anger gave me super strength! I lifted the chair over my head.
And I threw it.
I didn't aim for their heads (I am not a murderer!), I aimed for their legs! For the group!
CRASH!
The chair hit the desk, bounced, and hit Kevin's shin.
"AGH!"
Chaos erupted!
Girls were screaming! Boys were shouting! Computer mice were flying!
"TAKE IT BACK!" I screamed, lunging forward, trying to scratch them with my nails. "SAY SORRY! SAY SORRY TO STEPHIE!"
"Security! Get Security!" someone yelled.
Suddenly, the door burst open.
"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!"
The Professor. And two burly campus guards.
They stormed in. The guards grabbed the boys. The Professor grabbed me.
"Miss Garcia!" The Professor looked horrified. "Put down the... is that a keyboard?!"
I was holding a keyboard like a baseball bat. I didn't even know I picked it up.
I was panting heavily. My hair was in my face. My uniform was rumpled.
But my eyes were burning.
"They..." I pointed at the boys, who were groaning and rubbing their shins. "They were mocking her! They are monsters!"
★
The office was cold. Freezing.
I sat on a wooden chair. On the other side of the room, Kevin and his goons sat on a bench, holding ice packs to their faces and legs.
The Dean of Discipline sat behind a huge mahogany desk. He looked tired.
"So," the Dean sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Let me get this straight. Mr. Kevin here was... watching a video."
"We were studying!" Kevin lied immediately. "We were just on a break! And she came out of nowhere! She's crazy, Sir! She punched me! She threw a chair! Look at my bruise!"
He lifted his pant leg. A tiny purple mark. Hmph. I wished it was bigger!
"Liar!" I cried, standing up. Tears started to well up in my eyes again. "You were watching the video of Stephie! You were laughing! You said disgusting things!"
"Miss Garcia, sit down," the Dean ordered sternly.
I sat. I sniffled.
"I tried to tell them," I sobbed, wiping my nose on my sleeve. "I told them it's fake. I told them Stephie isn't like that. But they wouldn't listen! They were hurting her, Sir! Even if she wasn't there, they were hurting her dignity!"
I looked at the Dean with pleading eyes.
"I promised I wouldn't hurt people," I whispered. "But... but they are bad people. They are bullies. And I hate bullies."
The Dean looked at me. He looked at my student record.
He sighed again. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Mr. Kevin," the Dean said coldly. "We checked the browser history on the terminal. You were indeed watching unauthorized content on university property. And witnesses confirmed you were disrupting the peace with... lewd comments."
Kevin shrank back. "But..."
"Silence."
The Dean turned to me. His expression softened, but only a little.
"Miss Garcia. I understand you were defending a friend. That is... commendable loyalty."
My heart lifted a tiny bit.
"However," the Dean's voice turned hard. "Violence is never the answer in this institution. You physically assaulted a student. You threw university property. You incited a riot in a laboratory."
My heart dropped.
"The verdict is as follows," the Dean announced.
"Mr. Kevin and his associates will be suspended for two weeks for violation of the IT Conduct Code and harassment."
Good! Take that!
"As for you, Miss Garcia..."
He looked at me with pity.
"Due to the severity of the physical assault—punching and using a chair as a weapon—this falls under a Category 2 Major Offense."
I gulped. "What... what does that mean?"
"It means," the Dean said quietly, "that while I will not expel you given your clean record... the consequences are mandatory."
He opened a folder.
"Your full academic scholarship is hereby revoked, effective immediately."
WHAT?!
My jaw dropped.
"And," he continued, delivering the final blow, "students with a Category 2 offense are automatically disqualified from receiving any Latin Honors. You are no longer eligible for Summa, Magna, or Cum Laude."
The world stopped.
The buzzing sound came back.
No scholarship? No Latin Honors?
My parents...
I thought of my mom and dad. How proud they were. How they bragged to the neighbors. "Our Aleesha is a scholar! She is going to be Cum Laude!"
I promised them. I promised I would make them proud. I promised I would be smart and successful on my own, without just being a rich man's wife.
And now... it's gone.
Because of a chair. Because of a punch. Because of a video.
"Sir..." I whispered, my voice breaking. "Please. Anything but the honors. My parents... please..."
"I am sorry, Miss Garcia," the Dean said, closing the file. "The handbook is clear. You may go."
I looked at him for a minute, hoping he would change his decision.
But he didn't speak anymore.
I stood up and stepped out of the office.
The hallway was empty. The sun was shining outside, but inside, it felt like midnight.
I leaned against the wall and slid down until I was crouching on the floor.
I buried my face in my knees.
And I cried.
I cried for Stephie, who is broken in her room. I cried for myself, who is now a disgrace. I cried for my parents. I cried for the unfairness of the world.
"It's not fair," I sobbed. "I was trying to be good! I was trying to be a hero!"
But Gabriel was right. The world isn't a comic book. Heroes don't always win. Sometimes, heroes get suspended and lose their scholarships.
I sat there for a long time.
Eventually, the bell rang. People started coming out of classes.
I couldn't face them. I couldn't face the whispers.
I stood up, wiped my face (which was sticky and gross), and ran.
★
I didn't go home. I couldn't face Gabriel yet. I couldn't tell him I failed at school too.
I went to the little cafe near the university. The one where I met Eli.
It was quiet.
I walked to the counter.
"One Strawberry Frappe, please," I whispered. "Extra whip. Extra syrup. Extra... everything."
The barista looked at my red, puffy eyes and nodded sympathetically.
I took my drink and sat in the corner booth.
I took a sip.
Usually, it tastes like happiness. It tastes like clouds and sugar.
Today... it tasted cold. Just cold.
I stirred the straw. The pink swirl looked sad.
I pulled out my phone.
I shouldn't look at social media. I shouldn't.
But I needed to know.
I opened my messages.
I texted Sean.
I stared at the screen, biting my straw.
A minute later.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
She's asleep.
Sleep is good. Sleep means no pain. Sleep means no nightmares for a few hours.
I nodded to myself.
"Okay," I whispered. "She's safe."
But then I looked at my reflection in the dark window of the cafe.
Messy hair. Swollen eyes. No honors. No scholarship.
Stephie is asleep.
But I am awake. And my world is falling apart.