Amy’s POV
James didn’t speak for a long time after reading the email. He just sat there on the rooftop, his phone still in his hand, staring blankly at the screen like the words had punched the air out of him. The subject line flashed again in my mind—Scholarship Violation Report Filed—and the tension in his jaw grew tighter with every second.
“I’ve never cheated,” he finally said, his voice flat and distant, like it wasn’t even coming from him. “Not once. Not on a test. Not on a quiz. Not even on a stupid online homework module.”
“I know,” I said softly. “I believe you.”
He looked up at me with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Amy, they submitted footage. And fake grade reports. There’s a file attached that says I paid someone to write my senior thesis. I don’t even have a thesis. I’m not in that kind of program!”
I scooted closer on the blanket, placing my hand over his. “Let me see it.”
He handed me the phone with shaky fingers. I opened the attachments. At first glance, the documents looked legitimate—official letterhead, fake class names, forged email chains. But there were subtle inconsistencies. The dates didn’t line up. The professor listed wasn’t even in the athletic department. The signature on the transcript was pixelated and off-center.
My mind began to race.
“This isn’t just random,” I said, slowly piecing it together. “Someone wanted this to look real. Someone who knows how to make things look just close enough to pass.”
James stared at me, his face pale in the moonlight.
Then the answer came together like a door clicking open.
“This is Charlie,” I said, voice trembling with realization. “He’s trying to ruin you.”
James didn’t react at first. He just swallowed hard and looked down at the grass beneath the rooftop ledge.
“His dad’s a school board member,” he said quietly. “He could pull strings. He could get access. He could plant stuff without even touching it himself.”
My heart pounded. I hated how far this had gone. This wasn’t some playground drama anymore. This was James’s future—his scholarship, his shot at college, his dream. And Charlie was trying to burn it to the ground just because he couldn’t stand the idea of losing.
I reached for my phone.
James blinked. “What are you doing?”
“I’m calling my dad,” I said, already scrolling through my contacts. “If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s making noise in high places.”
James shook his head. “Amy, I don’t want your family dragged into this.”
I looked him straight in the eye. “Too late. You’re already part of my family. You fought for me when no one else did. Let me fight for you now.”
He didn’t argue again.
My dad answered on the second ring, sounding surprised. “Amy? It’s late.”
“I know,” I said, my voice calm but firm. “But I need a favor. James needs help.”
To his credit, my dad didn’t ask for proof. He didn’t brush me off. He just said, “Tell me everything.”
And I did.
I told him about the fake reports, the manipulated footage, the email from the university, and how all the connections pointed straight back to Charlie’s father. I explained how James was innocent, how this wasn’t just about football—this was about someone trying to destroy everything James had worked for.
My dad was silent for a moment. Then he cleared his throat. “I’ll make a few calls. Sit tight.”
What followed were two of the longest days I’ve ever lived through.
James tried to act like he was fine, but I could tell he wasn’t sleeping. Every time his phone buzzed, his shoulders tensed. He still went to class, still showed up for practice, but he moved like someone holding his breath underwater. I stayed close, texting him reminders to eat, sending him playlists filled with songs that made us laugh, and sitting with him in silence when neither of us had the energy to speak.
Meanwhile, my dad went into full-on lawyer mode. He contacted his former law school classmates, reached out to board members he had worked with during education policy meetings, and even set up a formal meeting with the university’s ethics committee. I didn’t know exactly what he said in that meeting, but whatever it was—it worked.
Two days later, just as James and I were sitting on a bench outside the gym, his phone buzzed again. He looked at the screen and didn’t move.
“What is it?” I asked, holding my breath.
Wordlessly, he turned the phone toward me.
The email was short and direct. It came from the university’s scholarship office.
Subject: Re: Violation Report – Final Decision
I read the first line.
“All allegations dismissed. Scholarship reinstated. Apologies issued.”