Chapter 3: The Principal Under Fire

The new exercise video from Principal Carter kept gaining traction.

But a malicious comment rose to the top:

“Posting these irrelevant videos just for attention? School is for studying, not for him to chase clout. These are seniors—they should be focused on exams, not wasting time on this! As principal, he’s not thinking of the students at all. Maybe the school should reconsider his position.”

Many echoed the sentiment.

“I’ve been suspicious too. What good teacher would waste time on this? The first video went viral, so he posted another—just chasing fame. I wouldn’t trust my kid with a teacher like that.”

“These are seniors, with heavy workloads, being used as props for internet fame. Outrageous.”

“Some ‘insider’ says he’s friendly—maybe he’s only friendly when accepting bribes from parents? Just saying, it’s hard not to think that way.”

“Bet that ‘photo’ was staged. What’s next, livestreaming sales, Principal Carter?”

Words like “unfit to teach,” “attention-seeker,” “disgrace to the profession”—all over the place.

Soon, students at school started whispering about it.

Things were taking a weird turn.

The “gentle, friendly” principal, respected by students and staff, was suddenly labeled a “bad teacher” because of one careless act.

Strangely, none of the teachers or students spoke up for him.

My dad was being misunderstood, smeared by self-righteous internet trolls.

I’m not someone who loses control easily, but I couldn’t help feeling sad, disappointed, and angry.

When I found Dad, he was sitting in his office, staring blankly at his desk.

He looked terrible.

But when I brought it up, he just smiled and comforted me. “If people don’t like it, I just won’t post anymore. The internet’s like this—give it time, it’ll blow over.”

“Autumn, don’t worry about me. Don’t let this get to you.”

He’s always like this. Never caring about himself. So mild it drives me nuts.

But the next day, he fell ill.

The illness came on fast, but the hospital couldn’t find anything wrong.

He was just sick—visibly worse, looking years older.

At school, maybe because of the online drama or his illness, he was put on leave, with Mr. Whitaker taking over as acting principal.

Dad was not only the principal, but also our homeroom teacher and taught us English.

So Mr. Whitaker became our acting homeroom teacher, too.

As a regular teacher, he’d already made things hard for me. Now, with more power, he stepped it up, finding new ways to make my life miserable.

He didn’t even try to hide his smugness.

I was out of it, too tired to fight back, and powerless to do anything.

I’m not patient. Not even close. I wanted to slap that smug face.

But my dad was already under fire. If I lashed out, he’d just get hit with another accusation:

His daughter slapped a teacher—no respect, no home training.

If he can’t teach his own daughter, how can he be a teacher?

I know how dangerous public opinion can be, so I didn’t dare.

I tried to get a pass to visit Dad, but Mr. Whitaker refused.

I could only sneak calls to check on him.

“Dad, how are you feeling?”

He didn’t really answer. Just rambled.

“Autumn, in a couple months, you’ll go to the States with your mom, right…”

I was a mess, zoning out in class.

Until Marcus found me, handing over a pile of my favorite snacks.

“Class rep, Logan told me to get these for you.”

“He said, everything will pass. Hope you feel better.”

Oh, right—Logan was out, too. He’d been gone for two days.

—

A day later, things started to turn around.

Logan, after a few days’ silence, posted a video on TikTok that shot to the trending list.

He appeared on screen, looking a bit tired in a loose black hoodie, background suggesting he was at home.

“About the rumors online about Principal Carter—as a student in his class, I have a few things to say.”

“First, what’s a ‘good teacher’? If it’s just about grades, then Principal Carter is exactly what you want. His classes always rank at the top, and since he became principal, our college acceptance rates have only gone up.”

“As for people saying seniors shouldn’t waste time on stretches—what, we’re not allowed to do anything but study? If you think studying 24/7 guarantees a spot at Harvard, think again.”

“Balance is key. Sure, some parents might not understand, but if you don’t know what you’re talking about and still want to judge, that’s on you.”

“And stop projecting your dirty thoughts onto others. Principal Carter posted the videos to share student life and show our energy, not for fame.”

“Of course, my words may not mean much. You can listen to others.”

The video then cut to another man, who introduced himself as a former student of Principal Carter.

“A few years ago, I was at Maple Heights High. My grades were bad, and a certain Mr. Whitaker constantly belittled and punished me, even telling me I’d end up begging on the street. Under that abuse, I became depressed, even suicidal.”

“Principal Carter noticed and worked to get me into his class, encouraging me and helping me find my worth. He saved me. If that’s not a good teacher, who is?”

Then a female student appeared, sharing her story.

One after another, more students spoke up.

Finally, Logan returned to the screen.

“I think you can judge Principal Carter’s character for yourself now.”

“By the way, the Mr. Whitaker mentioned earlier still works at our school—and he’s the one who stirred up the online hate.”

He then shared the evidence he’d gathered: top negative comments all traced to the same IP, chat logs of Mr. Whitaker urging students to leave bad reviews, and matching social media IDs.

Yeah, that Mr. Whitaker? Same guy.

After this video, the tide turned instantly.

Principal Carter was cleared, and Mr. Whitaker became public enemy number one.

—

Dad still wasn’t well.

With the weekend off, I could take care of him at home.

He was dazed, staring out the window for long stretches.

I didn’t get it—he was in the clear now, so why?

Until—

I answered a call from Elaine on his behalf.

“Mr. Carter, have you made up your mind? I told you, Autumn will have better opportunities with us. What can you give her…?”

I hung up, then demanded an explanation from Dad.

He was quiet for a long time. Then tears.

“Autumn, I’m sorry.”

“Your mom says I have nothing to offer, that you’ll have a better future with them. But… I can’t let you go. Am I being selfish?”

My heart ached.

So his illness wasn’t about the online drama—it was because of me.

He was torn between not wanting to hold me back and not wanting to lose me, blaming himself for being powerless.

I shook my head, speaking slowly. “Dad, the moment Elaine decided to leave and be a rich wife, she stopped being part of our lives.”

“She has no right to interfere.”

When I was little, lost and crying for my mom, it was Dad who comforted me: ‘Don’t cry, Autumn, you still have me. I’ll never leave you.’

Now she wants to act like a mother again? No way.

I called Elaine in front of Dad.

“So, you’ve come around?”

I sneered, voice icy.

“I’m not going to the States with you. Not a chance.”

“Don’t call us again. In fact, let’s not contact each other at all.”

I hung up, blocked her number, and turned to Dad.

“See? It’s not hard to say no. She’s just an outsider.”

He didn’t say anything, just cried silently.

I hugged him tight.

“Dad, I’d never leave you.”

“Home is wherever you are.”

—

With everything settled, Dad got better and returned to school a few days later.

One more thing happened—Mr. Whitaker was fired.

Honestly? Couldn’t be happier.

Bad teachers deserve consequences.

And the person who made all this right—Logan—deserved my thanks.

So I found him, looking sincere.

“Logan, thank you for helping my dad.”

He looked down, clearly not satisfied.

“Just a thank you?”

He hesitated, half joking, half serious:

“Class rep, I’m pretty popular now. Maybe you should act fast.”

“I’m easy to win over.”

After his video, he gained a ton of followers—good looks, brains, logic, and all just to clear a teacher’s name.

Labels like ‘hot guy,’ ‘smart,’ ‘high school boy’—hard not to like him.

It’s not like he wasn’t already popular with girls.

I was about to say something, but he cut me off.

“Never mind, don’t say it. You always say things I don’t want to hear.”

Me: “….”

I looked at him seriously. “Logan, let’s get into Harvard together.”

—

After we agreed to aim for Harvard, Logan started taking studying seriously.

It was never really out of reach for him—he was always right behind me in rankings, just never focused before.

Time flew by like someone hit fast-forward.

The night after the SATs, Logan asked me out.

“I was going to wait for our results, but I can’t anymore.”

Under the soft moonlight, his handsome face was full of obvious jealousy and frustration.

“The class rep from second period asked you out today, you know?”

I nodded—I’d guessed as much.

“But I chose to come see you.”

Ever since senior year, his feelings for me had become obvious.

Kind of rebellious, really—waiting until now to make a move.

“I know what you want.”

For once, I wanted to be the brave one.

He’d always been the one quietly showing affection. I wanted to be proactive for once.

I reached out to him, smiled as he stared, stunned.

“Logan, I want to try being in a relationship with you.”

Half a minute later, he pulled me into a tight hug.

I felt him trembling, his shoulder dampening my clothes.

He was really, truly moved.

He buried his face in my neck, voice hoarse.

“Autumn Carter, don’t play with me.”

He sounded… unsure.

“Do you really like me?”

I ruffled his soft hair, laughing lightly. “I do.”

“Ever since we agreed to go to Harvard together… that was my answer, wasn’t it?”

—