Chapter 5: The Real Scandal

Sure enough, when I checked the group chat in the afternoon, the focus had shifted to the missing $1,900.

There were screenshots, pie charts, even a poll: [Who thinks the fund is missing?] The chat was a crime scene, and everyone was suddenly a detective.

The students who needed the money most pressed the president:

[Yesterday you said we’d each get $25.]

[How did it turn into owing another $15 overnight?]

[Where did the class fund actually go?]

Sarah was back at it, but this time, she was pointing her fire at the real mystery.

I posted a screenshot of the class’s scholarship awards:

[Everyone, look. This $90 Outstanding Management Award for the president—doesn’t that seem like our missing class fund?]

[And this $120 Best Organization Award for the class officer’s cultural performance—looks familiar, right?]

I attached photos from the awards night, the ones with the giant foam checks and awkward smiles. It stung, realizing the pizza money I’d been counting on had turned into Ethan’s trophy night.

After I posted those, everyone except the class committee was stunned.

A couple of people dropped the wide-eyes emoji. Someone else said, [Wait, what? That money came from us?]

[They used the class fund to give the president and class officers scholarships? Whose idea was that?]

[Wow, I thought it was bad enough when elementary school teachers used class funds to reward good students. Now our class is doing it too?]

[Are class funds supposed to be used for scholarships for the committee? I want all my dues back!]

[@President Ethan Miller, return the money!]

It was like a dam had burst. Suddenly, everyone was questioning where their money had gone—and the class officers were in the hot seat.

At first, I thought those were school-issued awards. But later, passing by the faculty advisor’s office, I found out all those bonuses came from our own class fund. They just didn’t tell us—just handed all the awards to the president and class officers in one go.

Sarah, who’d first led the charge against me, was even more upset:

[So we’re just an ATM for the class officers now? Cool, cool. Didn’t realize that was in the syllabus.]

[What’s the standard for giving out scholarships? Is it just to pad the committee’s wallets?]

The questions rolled in, sharper and more pointed. No one was letting this go.

I pulled my blanket up to my chin, but sleep wouldn’t come. The glow from Nicole’s laptop cast weird shadows on the ceiling, and I kept hearing phantom pings from the group chat.

Seeing everyone finally get the point, I contentedly turned off my screen and tucked myself in.

I let out a long sigh, feeling a little vindicated. For once, I wasn’t the only one under the microscope. Maybe tomorrow things would finally shake out in the open.

But my class officer roommate couldn’t nap anymore. Not only that, she dragged me out from under my blanket:

She stormed over, yanking the blanket off my head. “Jamie, seriously? You’re gonna get us all in trouble. Couldn’t you just let it go for one night?”

I just laughed and pulled the blanket back over myself:

I flashed her a lazy grin. “I don’t know. I’ve been busy all day and I’m really tired. Go ask the president yourself.” I rolled over, settling back into the warmth, secretly satisfied that—for once—the drama wasn’t all on me.

But as I closed my eyes, I knew tomorrow’s group chat would be even messier. And this time, everyone would be watching.