Rodney was out of breath by the time the school came into view, he raced along the sidewalk and caught a glimpse of himself in the window: His hair was a mess and he was wearing flannel pants dotted with cartoon aliens and an old band tee. "shit," he eyed the procession of students dressed from head to toe in formal wear and slipped into the queue. He prayed the teacher checking tickets at the door was already over the job and just letting everyone in.

  "Nice jammies, Rodney," snickered a voice from behind. Rodney stiffened, offering a weak smile without turning. Just blend in, he willed himself, shuffling forward with the line until he was at the door, breathing in the scent of perfume and hair gel.

  "Whoa there, Mr. Thompson," Mr. McClain blocked his path with an amused raise of his eyebrow, of course, the strictest teacher was in charge of the doors that night. "PJs at a formal? That's a new one."

  "Mr. McClain, I just need to—"

  "Can't let you do it, kid." The teacher's stance was firm, but not unkind. "You'll have to text them to come out if you need to talk to someone in there, I suspect you don't have a ticket."

  Rodney's eyes traced the ground; He wasn't wrong. He sidestepped the line, thumb jabbing at his phone to alert Madison. No reply came. He started pacing while trying to figure out what to do next. He needed a plan C.

  Circling the perimeter of SDCI, Rodney tested each door with jittery fingers. They all groaned but held fast, locked tight. His frustration mounted with each failed attempt and he gave up hope. He found himself wandering into the school garden and plopping himself on the bench, his battle plan had changed to damage control.

  "Just say the photo is a fake," he muttered, slumping onto the bench. A defeated gaze lifted skyward, watching the stars glisten in the sky. He traced a shooting star through the night sky, and that's when he saw it. An open second-story window, a way in.

  "Okay, okay," he breathed, "if this isn't fate I don't what is." He scanned the area for anything he could use for a boost. There, by the cafeteria's side exit, stood a dumpster.

  Maneuvering it under the window was harder than expected, the jammed wheel caused it to veer off the intended path. Once it was finally in place, Rodney clambered on top of the metal beast, feeling its plastic lid dent under his sneakers. He reached up, fingertips grazing cold stone. Not enough. He needed more height.

  "You have to jump," he whispered to himself, bending his knees. He prayed he would make it as he leapt into the air, and for a moment, he flew, his grasp just holding on to the windowsill. With a heave, he tumbled gracelessly through the opening, landing with a thud in the dark classroom.

  "Ouch," he rubbed his lower back as dragged himself to his feet. The gym beckoned with the muffled sounds of music seeping through the door.

  He snuck down to the gym, walking through the doors and into the pulsating crowd, teenage bodies swayed in rhythm with the music. Rodney's eyes darted, Erica amongst the crowd. Judging by the atmosphere, she hadn't gone through with her plan yet.

  "Focus," he urged himself, breaths shallow, pushing his way past the strong of people. Erica had to be somewhere, and with every passing second, his secret came closer to being exposed.

  Rodney had forgotten just how large the gym was as he continued his search, she wasn't at the punch bowl or by the bleachers. He could feel the fabric of his pyjamas sticking to his skin, and he knew if a teacher caught him, he would be out of luck again. His thoughts focused on how Erica would show the picture, the projector, he turned toward the DJ booth. The screen behind it shifted with the music.

  "Matt!" Rodney's voice was barely above the sound of the music as he nudged past a couple locked in a slow dance.

  "Rod?" Matt squinted over the turntables, pulling off his headphones. "What's with the bedtime look?"

  "I wasn't exactly planning on coming tonight," Rodney said, brushing off the question. "Have you seen Erica?"

  "Erica? Nah, man." Matt scanned the crowd. "Why? I thought you handled that problem months ago,"

  "I thought so too but... she still has a photo of Hunter and me... kissing," Rodney hesitated, biting his lip. "She said she was going to show it to everyone. Because I broke her heart."

  "Wait, what?" Matt’s brow furrowed. "That's insane, even for her,"

  "She's really mad at me and she does care who she hurts," Rodney explained still scanning for her amongst the dancers. "We need to stop her before she outs Hunter, he didn't do anything to her."

  "And you." Matt nodded, concern etched on his face. "I'll text everyone so we can all start looking for her,"

  "Thanks." Rodney turned away, diving back into the churning sea of students.

  Ally, who had been eyeing the exchange from across the booth, made her way to Matt. "What did Rodney want?"

  "Erica's gone full-blown psycho," Matt said, adjusting the levels on his mixer. "She's going to try to out him to the entire school tonight, I've got to go help him."

  "Wait," Ally's lips pressed into a thin line; she remembered when she almost spilled Rodney's secret herself. "I know where she's going, watch the booth, I'll take care of this."

  "Are you sure? What if you need backup?" Matt asked as Ally's gaze locked onto the announcer's booth high above the gym floor.

  "I'm sure, I'll text you if I need you," she replied without looking back. "Just keep the dance going, Matt."

  ---

  In the chaos, Rodney felt his breath grow shallow. He could feel his heart rate increase, and the panic attack began to settle in. 'Not now,' he willed himself, taking a deep breath and counting down from five. He started to come down from the edge and that is when he saw her, Erica weaving skillfully through the crowd.

  "Erica!" he called out, but his voice was absorbed by the crowd.

  He surged forward, trying to keep up with her, but she disappeared again, swallowed by the swell of bodies. Spinning around, Rodney's gaze landed on Hunter, charming and untroubled, sharing a laugh with Chelsea by the punch bowl. And there were Madison and Luke, plates in hand, the confusion clear on Madison's face as she caught sight of him. Luke, who looked impressed with Rodney, offered a thumbs-up.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "No time to talk, check your texts, Madison," Rodney managed as he breezed past them, hoping to warn Hunter before it was too late.

  But then, Erica re-emerged, her determined stride taking her past Hunter and toward the announcer's booth, phone clutched like a weapon. Time slowed as Rodney burst forward. The laughter, the music, and the joy all seemed to vanish as he thought about what would happen if he failed.

  "Erica!" This time his shout caught her attention, she froze in place.

  Adrenaline-fueled Rodney could stop himself, pushing through Chelsea and Hunter on his warpath. With a desperate lunge, he shoved Erica as he tried to grab her phone. Her scream mingled with the splash of the punch bowl drenching them both in red.

  Rodney could feel the eyes of everyone in the area lock onto him. Silence fell over the small group, more people began to gather, and teachers started to move in on the chaos at the back of the gym. The crumpled form of Erica and Rodney lying in a bubble of punch, their clothes stained red, caused Hunter to give Rodney a confused look.

  Rodney didn't have time to care about the scene he made, he needed Erica's phone. His hand slid through the punch until it felt the sticky plastic of a phone on the floor. He clicked the button but the phone didn't turn on, the punch soaked into its circuits.

  "Come on, Rodney," Madison whispered to him, her hand firmly grasping his arm. "Nothing to see here, folks." She said helping him to his feet.

  "Are you okay?" Jordan asked pushing their way to the front of the crowd as they reached for his other arm.

  He nodded, unable to muster words while he watched other students help Erica to her feet.

  "Seriously, Rodney? What the hell was that?" Chelsea's voice carried over from where she stood with Hunter.

  Hunter just shook his head, eyes locked on Rodney, searching his face as if it had the answers written on it.

  "He ruined my dress!" Erica screeched, twisting some liquid from the fabric. She snatched the phone from Rodney's hands, the screen was dark and unresponsive. "You're going to pay for this, Rodney!"

  "Send him the bill," Madison shot back, leading Rodney away. Erica's fury faded into the background noise of the gym as they reached the gym doors where Mr. McCain was waiting.

  "Mr. Thompson, it's funny I seem to recall turning you away at the doors," Mr. McCain’s voice held a note of controlled anger.

  "Look this is all my fault, Mr. McCain. He was just returning my mascara. I let him in," Madison lied smoothly, giving Rodney's arm a reassuring squeeze.

  "And after he returned it, he decided to take a dip in the punch bowl?" Mr. McCain said, ushering them towards the door. "We'll discuss this on Monday,"

  "yes sir," Rodney murmured, wrapping Madison and Jordan in a brief, grateful hug before stepping out into the cool night.

  ---

  "Rodney Thompson, please report to the main office." The intercom crackled during homeroom on Monday.

  "Good luck, man," Luke murmured as Rodney collected his things.

  "Thanks," Rodney replied, not sure if they had talked to Erica first.

  The office felt like a courtroom, the air charged with judgment. Mr. Rogo, Mr. McCain, and the principal stood like a tribunal, and there sat Erica, along with Hunter, Chelsea, Matt, Ally, Madison, and Jordan—all waiting their turn to be questioned.

  "Rodney," the principal began, her gaze steady. "We've heard several conflicting stories. What exactly happened Friday?"

  Rodney's mouth opened, ready to tell them the full story. But he remembered Chelsea was sitting next to the door, she would be able to hear everything. He couldn't tell the full truth, even if it would make him innocent.

  "She threatened to out me, she had a photo of me kissing someone and I panicked and pushed her," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

  "Rodney, why didn't you come to us about this? You know we have a zero-tolerance policy for bullying of any kind" Mr. Rogo explained, shaking his head with disappointment.

  Rodney glanced over to the doors, his friends had stood up for him for nothing. "I... I know, I wasn't thinking," he choked out.

  "Your actions have consequences," Mr. Rogo declared. "We've decided on a three days' suspension, effective immediately."

  "Okay," Rodney accepted, holding back the tears that had gathered. It was a fair punishment for what he did, he did ruin a two-hundred-dollar dress after all.

  "Everyone except Erica and Rodney may go now, thank you," the principal announced. As the others filed out, Rodney remained seated, waiting for the office to call him and tell his mom he had been suspended.

  The click of the door signalled the last of his peers had left. Rodney shifted uncomfortably in the chair that suddenly seemed to swallow him whole, realizing they hadn't told him to sit in the waiting area of the office.

  "Rodney," the principal said, shooting him a concerned look, "there's something else we need to address."

  "I swear I didn't do anything else to her," Rodney panicked, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach.

  "It's not about the dance. It's about your English essay," Mr. Rogo interjected, spinning his Chromebook around, "was flagged for plagiarism."

  "Plagiarism?" Rodney choked out the word as if it were foreign. "That's impossible, I haven't even submitted it yet!"

  "According to Turnitin, you did," the principal countered, her gaze falling onto the computer. It displayed Rodney's account and a timestamp from Friday night.

  "That's my account, but... I swear I would never do that. I mean I get a panic attack just thinking about cheating," Rodney scrambled, desperation clear in his tone.

  "I know Rodney, that's why I want to know what's going on here," Mr. Rogo stated firmly. "This isn't like you,"

  Rodney's thoughts spiralled as he tried to come to a logical conclusion about how this could have happened. "I have the original on my Chromebook in my locker, I can show it to you, prove this isn't mine," Rodney stammered. They gave him a nod and he raced out of the room and to his locker. But upon arrival, he found his essay had been deleted.

  "Erica..." In his mind, it was the only explanation, but he wasn't sure the teachers were going to buy it.

  Back in the office, Rodney’s words tumbled out in haste. "It's gone. My essay—the one I actually wrote, someone must have broken into my locker and deleted it. But I swear that one that was handed in isn't mine, on my I think Erica might have..."

  "That is a massive accusation, do you have any proof?" the principal asked, Rodney hung his head, "we'll have to place you on academic probation until we can get to the bottom of this."

  "Okay," Rodney nodded, knowing there was no way he could ever prove it was Erica.

  ***

  With Rodney heading home, his friends met at their normal table at lunch knowing he wouldn't be joining them. As they all got settled, Madison recounted the dance debacle to Derek, her animated gestures drawing the gaze of passersby.

  "So in order to stop Erica from outing Hunter along with him, Rodney just went full-on hero mode and tackled her right into the punch bowl!" she exclaimed, with a pushing motion toward Derek.

  "Sounds pretty badass," Derek chuckled, but there was still a clear look of concern on his face.

  "Badass, yes, but they both got suspended," Jordan piped up, their expression sombre. "Seems unfair that she can threaten to out people and if they stand up for themselves they get in trouble for it. I say we go over to Rodney's right after school."

  "I couldn't agree more, I'm proud of him for standing up for himself," Derek's smile widened, "I need to get him some horror movie or something to celebrate,"

  They all nodded along, not noticing Hunter approaching until he was standing directly beside their table. "Jordan, we need to talk about some end of the year stuff for council,"

  "Oh, I thought we covered it all at the last meeting," Jordan looked puzzled.

  "Well something has come up and as my VP I need your help," he said sternly.

  "Um, sure No problem," Jordan shot their friends a confused look before getting up and following Hunter to the council room.

  Tucked away from the rest of the student body, Hunter turned his full attention on Jordan, his hazel eyes searching theirs.

  "Jordan, Chelsea told me Rodney pushed Erica to stop her from outing him, how exactly was she planning on doing that?"

  Jordan hesitated, caught between loyalty and truth. "Um well, I only know what I've been told... apparently she had a picture of him kissing another guy,"

  "A photo?" Hunter stepped away from Jordan as he thought, their only one other guy Rodney was with before him but that seemed unlikely. "Does anyone know who else was in the photo with him?" Hunter probed.

  "Hunter there is no need to worry, no one will ever know who the mystery guy was." Jordan placed a reassuring hand on Hunter's shoulder.

  Hunter didn't say anything at first, He knew Rodney went down to protect him. Had he been so dismissive and now he felt like he was going to be sick.

  "Thanks, Jordan, that's all I needed to know" Hunter murmured.

  "No problem," Jordan opened the door but turned back, "You know, if wanted to join us for lunch once in a while, I think everyone would be ok with that." They offered.

  Hunter smiled, "I think I'll take you up on that," he followed Jordan out of the office and locked it behind them, hoping he would be able to Rodney before the year ended.