Chapter 1: The Attendance Trap

After I picked up a sub gig and covered a class, the teacher started taking attendance.

Great. Exactly what I didn’t need.

I could feel the weight of the unfamiliar classroom pressing in—the scrape of plastic chairs on tile, the soft shuffle of students getting settled. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered, humming that classic campus tune. My palms were a little clammy, but I kept my game face on. Classic campus lighting.

When I raised my hand, the teacher smiled and said, “I thought Tyler was a boy.”

There was this split second where my heart just skipped. I managed a small, sheepish grin. “I’m his girlfriend. He’s out sick, so I came to take notes for him.”

Okay, go with it. The teacher nodded. “Alright. Stick around after class—come by my place so you can see your boyfriend.”

Her tone was casual, almost teasing, but it caught me off guard. I blinked, wondering if I’d heard her right, but she was already moving on. The other students barely seemed to notice, but I felt a few curious glances flick my way. I tried to look unfazed, even though my mind was already racing. Surely I misheard… right?

Usually, there aren’t a lot of classes or much going on, so I pick up sub gigs through GroupMe to make some extra cash.

It’s this big, chaotic GroupMe chat—half the campus is in it. You never know what you’ll get: sometimes it’s tutoring, sometimes pet-sitting, sometimes just helping someone move a couch. But the subbing gigs pay the best, and I’d gotten pretty good at swooping in last-minute.

Someone in the GroupMe needed a sub for three big lectures that afternoon.

Three big lectures? Easy money. I replied right away, “I’ll take it.”

My thumbs flew over the keyboard before anyone else could blink. I always kept my bag packed, just in case. Reflex now: hustle first, questions later.

After getting the name, course, and any important details, I got to the classroom early.

I double-checked the syllabus and scanned the class roster on my phone, just to be sure I had the right info. The hallway outside smelled faintly of burnt coffee and old textbooks. I slipped into a seat near the middle—not too close to the front, didn’t want to stand out, but I needed a good view for note-taking.

I’d heard the professor for this class was a really nice guy who almost never bothered with attendance.

Word around campus was that he was the kind of professor who let you eat snacks in class and never cared if you wore pajamas. The kind of guy who’d wink and say, “Life happens, just turn in your work.” I was counting on that today.

If there was no attendance, it’d be a breeze. I calmly pulled out my English homework, ready to get some work done.

Look at me, being responsible. I even set my phone to Do Not Disturb and started outlining my essay, feeling like I’d scored an easy gig. The hum of pre-class chatter faded into the background as I settled in, determined to make the most of the quiet time.

Time. The clock hit the hour.

There’s something about that first moment before class starts—no matter how old you get, it still makes your stomach jump a little. I snapped my notebook shut and tried to look attentive, just in case.

A woman walked into the classroom, set her purse down, and opened her laptop to pull up the slides.

She looked professional, with sharp glasses and a tidy bun—the kind of woman who probably never loses her keys or forgets a birthday. She moved with purpose, barely glancing at the rows of students as she set up.

I double-checked the class time and room number from the info they sent me. No mistake.

I even scrolled back through the texts, just to be sure I hadn’t mixed up something. The numbers matched, and the classroom sign outside was right. This was definitely the place. Great.

I leaned over to the girl beside me. “Hey, I thought the professor was supposed to be a guy. Why is it a woman today?”

She glanced at the teacher, just as confused. “It was a man before. Maybe there was a last-minute switch, but nobody mentioned it in the GroupMe.”

She shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess it’s just one of those days.” Fair enough.

The teacher opened her slides and cleared her throat. “Today, Professor Langley had a personal matter to attend to, so I’m filling in for him.”

Her voice carried easily across the room, crisp and no-nonsense. She clicked through the slides with practiced ease, barely missing a beat.

As she spoke, she pulled out an attendance sheet. “Let’s take attendance first.”

A groan rippled from the back row. She ignored it. I felt my stomach drop. So much for an easy ride.

So much for the rumor mill—she was taking attendance.

I tried to keep my cool, but my heart was thumping in my ears. Sweat prickled at the back of my neck. Not this.

I checked the name of the person I was subbing for again: Tyler McAllister.

I stared at the name, willing myself to remember every detail. Tyler. Tyler McAllister. I repeated it in my head like a mantra—Tyler McAllister.

Soon, she called out, “Tyler McAllister.”

I confidently raised my hand. Confident enough, anyway.

My voice sounded steadier than I felt. I tried to look relaxed, the picture of a student who belonged there.

This teacher had never taught this class before, so she definitely didn’t know Tyler. I’d been worried the regular professor might recognize him and realize I was a stand-in. I relaxed—probably too soon.

But then—

The teacher frowned at me, then at the attendance sheet, and asked, puzzled, “Why do I remember Tyler McAllister being a boy?”

Her eyes narrowed, and I could feel a few heads turning my way. I tried to keep my face neutral, but my mind was racing for an answer.

I leaned toward the girl next to me and whispered for help, “Is Tyler a guy?”

She nodded. “Yeah, he’s captain of the basketball team. Pretty much everyone knows him.”

She gave me a look like, How could you not know that? I swallowed hard, feeling my cheeks flush.

I gasped and pressed a hand to my forehead, scrambling for a solution.

My brain was doing somersaults, searching for a way out. I pressed my palm to my forehead like I’d just remembered something important.

I put on my best worried face and said, “Professor, I’m his girlfriend. He’s sick, but he didn’t want to miss class, so he asked me to take notes for him.”

I tried to sound sincere, even added a little quiver to my voice for effect. I figured if I looked worried enough, maybe she’d buy it.

The teacher smiled and nodded. “I see. I understand.”

There was a twinkle in her eye, like she’d seen this kind of thing before.

For a split second, I thought I was in the clear.

But then the teacher said, “Hang back after class. I’ve got a few questions.”

Her voice was pleasant, but there was an edge to it. I suddenly felt like a mouse in a trap. I forced a smile and nodded, but my stomach was in knots. Great. Love that for me.

Her sudden request made me nervous, and I spent the whole lecture on edge.