Lies We Tell ✔

The Twenty-Seventh Dance

I stared at the note, which had started trembling with my fingers. "This proves it," I whispered. "It's gotta be someone on our floor. Whoever it is knows you're running."

"I don't get it," Chris hissed. "Is this a threat? Does someone want me to withdraw? What is the point of this note?"

The only person I knew who would stand to gain from Chris withdrawing from the race was—Jennifer. I saw, in the flash of realization that crossed Chris' eyes, that he'd reached the same conclusion.

I turned the stationary over and over in my hand, searching for something, anything. A clue to point us in the direction of the writer. There was nothing. Not a single blemish on the piece of paper, except for the damp edges. "How is this person getting away with any of this? With threatening us? With threatening everyone?"

"I don't know," Chris said quietly. He moved closer to me, arms out wide, as if about to pull me in for a hug. My heart gave a little leap before he let his arms drop to his sides, and I realized he was just peering out into the empty hall. "You weren't followed, were you?"

"No?"

"Let's shut the door," he suggested, still staring at a spot above my shoulder.

After stepping into Chris's room, I realized I'd never been here before. I hadn't ever imagined his room before—seriously, I hadn't—but even if I had, I knew my imagination would have been very different from the reality of his mancave.

The floor was spotless. Everything was neat and tidy. Books stacked on the shelf above his desk. Textbooks arranged in one tall pile on his desk. There was even a shoe rack next to the bunk beds, where all the shoes had been stacked neatly in rows.

Nigel's side of the room was surprisingly tidy, too. The only thing that differentiated the two boys' sides of the room was the posters they'd chosen to decorate their walls with. Nigel had a bunch of Marvel superheroes posted on his wall—The Hulk, Superman, Catwoman. Chris had a poster of The Beatles and one black-and-white print of Franklin Delano Roosevelt hanging over his bed.

"You are such a politics nerd," I said, shaking my head at the huge picture of FDR's face.

He blushed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Shut up. It's not that weird."

"You're right. It's really weird."

Chris sat on his bed, motioning for me to sit down next to him, and unfurled the note. He scrutinized it, squinting and tilting his head at different angles. Sniffed it. Scratched it with a nail.

"Do you think if we scratch hard enough, it'll reveal some kind of hidden message? Like the name of the criminal?" I said. "Or a coupon code?"

"You—can you please be serious?"

I swallowed. "Sorry."

There was a short silence while we both eyed the note, lost in our thoughts. Then the sound of a card swiping into the slot on the door. The handle turned, and Nigel stumbled into the room, looking distinctly un-Nigel-like. Worn-down. Face drawn long and taut.

"Hey," he said to Chris. "If you're thinking of using the bathroom, don't. Some idiot's left a giant piece of poo in the urin—"

"Nigel," Chris hissed, jerking his head behind him, in my direction.

Nigel blinked when he noticed me sitting right behind his roommate. He straightened a little. "Oh. Sorry. Didn't realize we had a guest."

"Nah, not a guest. Just Amelia."

"What does that mean?" I grumbled, shooting Chris a dark look.

"Am I interrupting?" Nigel asked haltingly. Unsurely. Eyeing the two of us like he was trying to determine what kind of scene he'd walked in on. He moved to turn around, his hand already back on the doorknob. "I can leave if you two want some, uh, privacy."

"No!" Chris and I both shouted at the same time, horrified by what he was implying.

"It's not like that," Chris insisted.

I bobbed my head up and down rapidly. "Yeah. I have standards."

"I have common sense."

"Seriously, I can leave if you two newlyweds want to get back to your...business," Nigel said. Finally, a small smile cracked the stony surface of his face. Of course he'd rediscover his sense of humor at our expense.

Chris swallowed and hesitated, as if debating with himself about something. "No, it's okay. We really weren't doing anything like that. We were just, um...trying to understand...this note."

"Note?"

Chris held up the stationary. Nigel drew closer, dumping his backpack on the floor, eyes full of curiosity. He took the paper from Chris and read it over. Eyes widened to the size of golf balls. When he looked back at us, his expression was full of shock. "This is a joke, right? Where'd you find this?"

"Under our door not even half an hour ago. And, no, it's not a joke. Amelia found a note like this a little over a week ago."

Nigel's horrified gaze snapped to me, and I nodded. "Holy...I don't believe...what did you two do?"

"Pissed off the person behind all these crimes, apparently," Chris said solemnly.

"No kidding. You guys gonna report this?"

"We already reported the first one," I sighed. Fat lot of good that had done us. "The police said they're on the case, but there's not much they can do."

"And there's no way to trace these letters," Chris added, running a frustrated hand through his hair so that it stuck on end. "They aren't handwritten."

Nigel groaned. He walked over to his bed and sunk into it. "And here I just wanted to come back after the Black Student Union meeting, take a nice dump, and be a potato," he moaned. "On the bright side, if this psychopath kills me tonight, I won't have to worry about my calc quiz tomorrow."

Chris frowned at his roommate. "That's not something to joke about, Nigel."

"You're telling me. Calculus is definitely not a joke."

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" I asked.

"That the campus police are useless?" Chris muttered.

I paused. "That's true too, but I was thinking something else. If we want to keep you in the elections—and we will keep you in the elections—"

"Of course," Chris said smoothly. "Wasn't even a question."

"—then we'll need to step off the defensive and attack."

"Meaning?"

I grabbed the note out of Chris's hand and mustered up all of my remaining determination into one long, hard look. Stared straight into his dark and equally hardened eyes. "As your campaign manager and bodyguard, I swear I'll do my best to make sure you have the best election day ever. And I happen to know somebody who might be able to tell us where this note came from."

*****

A/N - Ok this update is super short but I promise I'll be updating really really soon!! I took the holidays off Wattpad but now I'm back on campus and I'll be churning out the updates. So please comment/vote if you're excited/scared/ready for me to finish the damn story already lol thank youuu <3. Some wild stuff is about to go down so I hope you guys are PREPARED  *cackles evilly* HAPPY NEW YEAR, BISHES! 

In all seriousness, happy 2018 and here's to a better year and potential impeachment of a certain orange potato!!11!!!11!!1