Chapter 2: The Accusation Game

I’d already told them everything. Why were they dredging this up again?

But this city detective overturned everything from the start, trying to pin it all on me. Clearly, someone wanted me to take the fall.

I could feel the walls closing in. Someone with power was pulling strings.

“According to Section 123 of state law, anyone who organizes cheating in standardized testing can face up to three years in prison. If it’s serious, it’s three to seven years...”

He leaned forward, voice cold. The easygoing mask was gone. I could see the steel in his eyes.

The smile vanished from Detective Harper’s face, his sharp eyes pinning me to my chair.

Suddenly, I remembered Brandon’s family was loaded—his parents were big shots in town.

His dad donated to every fundraiser, shook hands with the mayor. Money talks, and in this town, it screams.

Could it be that, to save face, they wanted to pin the whole thing on me?

It made sense. The rich protect their own. I was just collateral damage.

“Organizing cheating, driving Brandon to his death—are you really saying none of this is your responsibility?”

The accusation hit me like a slap. I felt sick. My palms started to sweat again.

Brandon couldn’t take the pressure and jumped, but now they wanted to blame me for it!

I wanted to shout, to protest, but my throat closed up. The AC in the interrogation room was blasting, and I shivered.

The vent rattled above me, blowing cold air straight down my collar. My teeth started to chatter.

“Brandon jumped on his own. No one forced him, and I don’t even know any cheating ring. Someone’s framing me.”

My voice sounded small, even to my own ears. But I meant every word.

“Oh really? But your teachers reported that this isn’t the first time you’ve been caught cheating. You have a record!”

That one hurt. My stomach dropped. I’d hoped no one would ever bring that up again.

My heart sank.

That’s right, I did have a previous record, but that was out of desperation!

I was sixteen, broke, and desperate. I made a mistake. I thought it was behind me.

At the time, the school let it slide since it was my first offense. I never thought they’d dig it up again.

I thought it was buried, forgotten. But nothing ever really disappears in a small town.

They wanted to ruin me.

I could see it now, the way the story would be spun: “Repeat offender, always a troublemaker.” I’d be done for.

I couldn’t let them. I had to think of something.

I needed a lifeline. Fast.

“I admit, I hid some things before, but I had nothing to do with organizing the cheating!”

My voice was shaky, but I tried to sound firm. I needed them to believe me.

“What did you hide? Spit it out!”

His voice was sharp, the kind that makes you flinch even if you’re innocent.

My name is Eli Turner.

That’s me, the kid who always did everything right—until I didn’t.

Since I was a kid, I was always the “model student” parents liked to compare others to, top of my class, polite, never got in trouble.

I was the one teachers pointed to on parent-teacher night. “Why can’t you be more like Eli?” I heard it everywhere.

But a car accident changed everything.

My mom died, my dad started drinking, and suddenly I was the kid nobody cared about.

The house got quieter. My dad stopped cooking dinner. I started eating ramen more nights than not. It was like someone had hit pause on our lives.

I thought about dropping out, but at sixteen, with no work experience, if I dropped out, my life was over.

I filled out job applications at every fast food joint in town, but no one wanted a high school junior with a shaky smile and a busted family.

After a lot of thought, I decided to keep studying and work part-time.

I’d pay my own way through college!

I told myself I could do it. I’d seen enough after-school specials to know hard work was supposed to pay off.

But that’s easier said than done. Who would hire a minor like me?

Everywhere I went, I got the same answer: “Come back when you’re eighteen.” I started to lose hope.

For days, I hit dead ends everywhere.

I spent hours walking the strip, looking for “Help Wanted” signs. My sneakers wore thin. My hope wore thinner.

Just as I was about to give up, my classmate Brandon Miller found me in secret, hoping I’d help him during the SATs.

He caught me behind the gym, all shifty-eyed, like we were making a drug deal. “C’mon, Eli, just this once.”

He wanted me to pass him answers—to cheat.

He made it sound so simple. “You’re smart. I’m not. Help me out.”

After entering senior year, the school started sorting students by GPA. The Honors Track I was in only allowed the top forty students to stay.

It was a cutthroat system. Every quarter, someone got bumped. The pressure was unreal.

Brandon’s grades weren’t good enough for Honors, but his family had money.

His parents pulled strings with the principal, made some generous donations, and barely got him in.

The rumor mill spun fast. Everyone knew how he’d gotten in, but no one said a word. Money talks.

After all that, if he got kicked out of Honors for bad test scores, his family would never let him hear the end of it.

He said if I helped him pass, he’d give me $200.

Two hundred bucks. That was more than I made in a month bussing tables. I could buy groceries, pay the gas bill. It was tempting.

That money could cover my groceries and rent for a couple months. Honestly, I was tempted.

I stared at the bills he flashed, my stomach growling. But I’d never cheated before, and my conscience screamed at me.

But I’d never cheated before, felt uneasy, and ended up refusing.

I told him no, and walked away. My hands shook all the way home.

But then someone changed my mind.

Chris—my only real friend from an online forum.

We met on a message board about college admissions. He was the only person I could talk to without feeling judged.

I was introverted and didn’t have friends; Chris was the only person I could talk to.

He got me in a way no one else did. Sometimes, you find your people in the strangest places.

The internet’s a strange place. Even though we’d never met, I could tell him anything.

I told him everything—about my mom, my dad, the pressure, Brandon’s offer. He listened, never judged.

After hearing the whole story, Chris told me to go for it.

He said, the most important thing is to keep studying. The result is what matters; the means don’t.

“Eli, the world’s not fair. You gotta play the game or get left behind.” That’s what he told me. It made a twisted kind of sense.

Because the world doesn’t play fair anyway.

He reminded me of all the times I’d seen other kids cheat and get ahead. Why should I be the only sucker playing by the rules?

I resisted at first, but I knew he was right. It was the only way I could keep going.

I lay awake at night, going back and forth. In the end, the fear of falling behind won out.

I needed the money too much.

The fridge was empty. The rent was overdue. I told myself it was just this once.

During that cheating episode, my heart was pounding the whole time.

I could barely focus on the test. I kept glancing at the proctor, convinced she could see right through me.

After finishing the test, I started using the hand signals Chris taught me to pass answers to Brandon.

He’d shown me online—tapping my pencil for A, scratching my ear for B, little things no one would notice. I practiced in the mirror until it felt natural.

A, B, C, D—four subtle gestures. As long as I stayed under the radar, I wouldn’t get caught.

It was like our own secret code. The thrill of it almost made me forget how wrong it was.

The whole thing went surprisingly smoothly. After the monthly test, Brandon stayed in Honors, just like he wanted.

He was all smiles, slapping me on the back in the hallway. I felt like I’d swallowed a stone.

And I got two months’ living expenses.