Chapter 1
The room stayed quiet in the wrong way.
Not silent. Chairs creaked. Someone’s pencil rolled across a desk and stopped against a metal leg. The fluorescent lights buzzed above us, making every pause feel longer than it was. But nobody spoke to me.
I stood beside the desk with my hands pulled into the sleeves of my gray hoodie. My face felt hot even though the classroom was cold. I kept looking at the floor because looking up meant seeing the other students watching me, and looking at Mrs. Hackins meant remembering the sharpness in her voice.
She had moved a few steps away. The wooden-looking object was still near her waist, held loosely now, as if it had stopped mattering. I couldn't stop noticing it. My eyes went to it, then away.
At the front desk, Alex's phone lay faceup.
I hadn't seen him set it down. A second ago, he had been moving between the desks with it held near his chest. Now the black screen showed our classroom in miniature: the desks, the whiteboard, Mrs. Hackins standing beside me, and my own hunched shape reflected in the distance.
The image moved when someone shifted near the phone.
I stared at it.
Alex stood several feet away, his shoulders tight beneath his black graphic T-shirt. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking at Mrs. Hackins, then at the phone, then at me again, like he was waiting for permission to do something he had already decided mattered.
Mrs. Hackins noticed the phone.
“Put that away.”
Alex's hand hovered over it. He didn't grab it yet.
I expected him to obey. Everyone expected him to obey. The room seemed to lean toward that answer.
Instead, he looked at me.
It was a small thing, but it changed the air. He didn't explain. He didn't say he was helping. He didn't ask whether I was okay in front of everyone. He only waited.
I swallowed. My throat hurt.
“Let me see it,” I said.
My voice came out thin. Mrs. Hackins turned toward me.
“Mason, you need to stop creating a scene.”
The words landed differently now. A scene was what the phone had captured. A scene was what everyone could see without trusting my memory of it.
Alex picked up the phone and walked toward me, not too quickly. He held it low enough that Mrs. Hackins couldn't snatch it without crossing the space between us. When he reached me, he turned the screen so only I could see.
The recording had started before he came close. The picture shook as he lifted the phone, then steadied. I saw Mrs. Hackins beside me. I saw my own head angled down. I saw the desks behind us and the faces turned in our direction.
I couldn't make myself watch the beginning.
“Is it still recording?” I asked.
“No.”
“Did you save it?”
“I didn't touch the file.”
That answer helped more than reassurance would have. He wasn't promising something he couldn't prove.
Mrs. Hackins came closer. “Alex, give me the phone.”
Alex's thumb moved toward the screen, but he stopped before opening anything else.
I felt every eye in the room settle on my back. If Alex handed it over, the phone might disappear into a drawer or an office. If he refused, the moment could become another accusation, this time aimed at him.
I reached for the phone.
Alex gave it to me.
The case was warm from his hand. The screen showed the recording, paused on Mrs. Hackins’s stern face and my shoulder. Under another part of the display, the contact label read, “Mason’s Mother.”
I stared at it.
“Why does it say that?” I asked.
“I think your phone was on the desk when I picked it up.”
“That isn't my phone.”
Alex looked down at the black case. “It isn't?”
I shook my head. I had never seen it before. The label made my chest tighten anyway. It was too close to home, too personal for a room full of people who had just watched me be called a cheater.
Mrs. Hackins held out her hand. “Now.”
I turned the screen off.
For the first time since the confrontation began, I looked directly at her. My breathing was uneven, but I kept my voice low.
“I'm not giving you the recording here.”
Her expression changed by almost nothing. Her lips pressed together. The hand holding the wooden-looking object lowered to her side.
“You're making this worse.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I want my mother to see it.”
The room went still again.
Alex stepped beside me, not in front of me. That mattered. He didn't block her or speak for me. He only stood close enough that I didn't feel alone.
Mrs. Hackins pointed toward the door. “Both of you wait in the hall after the bell.”
The bell rang before either of us answered.
Students began packing their bags. The normal movement felt insulting. Zippers opened. Desks scraped. People avoided our eyes while trying to watch us.
I kept the phone in my palm.
When I looked at Alex, he nodded once.
May you like
After class, he would show me everything.
For the first time, I believed I might make it through the next few minutes.
