Chapter 3: Group Chat Goes Nuclear

My mind was racing, replaying every dollar I’d ever touched for the class fund. My phone screen glared in the dark. I refreshed the chat, hoping the president would pop up with an answer. Nothing.

Everyone had been looking forward to a refund today, and now this happened. If I didn’t explain, I’d be buried under the group’s backlash.

So I quickly posted in the group:

[I really don’t know about this. I never got reimbursed from the class fund.]

Of course, no one believed me. Anyone who saw the spreadsheet would assume I’d pocketed $75.

Sarah kept tagging me:

[We don’t agree with you using the class fund for travel. You must return it.]

[Yeah, you really treat the class fund as your own pocket money.]

[You go and reimburse $75 in travel expenses—are we just extras in your drama?]

[Return the money!]

Her texts came at me like hail on a tin roof. Other classmates piled on, and the chat was now a wildfire of blame.

Frustrated, I bombarded the president with messages:

[President, you must have made a mistake!]

[President, say something!]

The chat kept exploding. Someone dropped a Michael Scott 'No God Please No!' GIF. Another posted a Venmo request for 'emotional damages.' The group was eating it up.

Five minutes passed. Still no reply.

But the unread messages kept piling up. The little red dot on my app just kept growing. 25. 46. 73. It felt like watching a meter rise in a horror movie—you know something’s coming, and it’s not good.

Even Mike Johnson, who usually just lurked, chimed in:

[You took $75 from the class fund in one go? That’s too much.]

[If it were only $5, maybe people would’ve let it slide.]

[But $75? How could you?]

Mike’s opinion carried weight. He was the guy who always split checks to the exact cent. If he was calling foul, everyone would listen.

Then, the class officer Nicole Carter sent a new message:

[Reimbursing Jamie Lee’s travel expenses from the class fund was approved by the faculty advisor. Everyone, please stop discussing.]

Nicole’s message was meant to shut things down, but it only poured gasoline on the fire. Now everyone figured it was a cover-up, an inside job. If the faculty advisor was involved, maybe the whole thing went deeper than anyone thought.

That one sentence made everyone even angrier.