Chapter 10
“The rumor isn’t true.”
“…Are you sure? Either way, you did use school property after hours without permission.”
“It’s not like I planned it. The janitor locked the doors while we were still inside. Honestly, I should be the one complaining about him.”
Noah’s sharp tone made Monica frown, but in the end, she backed off.
Even as student council president, there were limits to how much she could push him.
After all, Noah wasn’t just popular with the students — his grandfather was practically the school’s main benefactor and owner.
Monica cleared her throat and turned back to the meeting.
“Let’s move on. Today we must decide on the theme for the senior prom. The delay is starting to frustrate everyone.”
The moment she brought it up, the senior class reps immediately started arguing.
“The majority of the senior girls want a Y2K theme — early-2000s fashion and all that.”
“Are you sure that’s the majority’s opinion? Sounds more like yours.”
Soon, other members chimed in.
“How about a masquerade ball instead?”
That was Valentina, the student council secretary.
“Or maybe something like an Enchanted Forest?”
All this over something so trivial…
Noah leaned back, quietly tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair, watching them argue.
Then a thought hit him.
Come to think of it… one of these people might be ClassClown.
He chewed lightly on the end of his pencil, eyes narrowing.
No one knew who ran the anonymous ClassClown757 account — the source of all the school gossip.
Some students had tried to track them down, but the platform always refused to reveal any information, citing privacy laws.
Still, Noah was almost certain ClassClown was either a member of the student council or someone who had planted a spy in it.
He had good reason to believe that — leaks about sports team updates he’d privately shared in meetings often ended up on that gossip page.
But he couldn’t accuse anyone without proof.
And even if he did catch them, another copycat account would just appear. People loved gossip too much to stop.
So instead of chasing ghosts, Noah decided to use ClassClown when it suited him — subtly feeding the account information he wanted spread.
But now? ClassClown had crossed a line.
There are twelve council members besides me. Which one of them is it?
While Noah sat lost in thought, the debate around him kept going.
“What about an Old Hollywood theme?”
“We did that two years ago.”
Finally, Monica rapped her gavel sharply on the desk.
“Enough. We’re getting nowhere. I’ll discuss it directly with the principal and finalize it.”
The room erupted in complaints, but Monica stayed cool and businesslike as always.
“Write a short explanation of why you support your chosen theme, and submit it to Noah by the end of the day. Next topic.”
To me?
As if to answer, Monica leaned toward him and whispered:
“I’ll overlook that rumor situation, but in return, I need you to handle this. Collect everyone’s ideas, talk it over with the principal, and make the final call.”
Her tone was polite — but it wasn’t really a request.
Noah was about to refuse when a clever idea struck him.
Actually… this could be the perfect way to find out who ClassClown really is.
* * *
The next morning, Jamie left her dorm room with a baseball cap pulled low over her face.
How long do I have to keep living like this?
As she entered the main building, the hallway seemed louder than usual — excited chatter and bursts of laughter everywhere.
“Did you see it? ClassClown just posted again!”
Her body froze at once.
Oh no. Don’t tell me it’s about me again…
She hurriedly pulled out her phone and opened the ClassClown757 account.
A brand-new post sat at the top of the feed.
ClassClown757:
yawn So when is this year’s prom theme going to be announced? At this rate, prom will be over before we even know it!
But here’s a tip: if you go ahead and reserve a flapper-style dress right now, you won’t regret it!
More importantly, make sure you’ve got someone who’ll look at you like Jay Gatsby looked at Daisy Buchanan. 💋
What? You still don’t have a prom date? Then what are you waiting for — it’s time to ask!
#TheGreatGatsby #PromposalTipsWelcome
***
Apparently, the theme for the upcoming senior prom — The Great Gatsby — had just leaked.
The hallway was full of evidence that someone had already started celebrating: glitter, confetti, and rose petals scattered across the floor.
A janitor nearby was grumbling as he swept them up.
Jamie passed by, glancing briefly at the mess.
So the theme’s The Great Gatsby, huh? Not that it has anything to do with me.
Prom was mainly for seniors.
Sure, popular underclassmen sometimes got invited, but for a nerd like Jamie, that was out of the question.
And truthfully, she hated loud dance parties anyway.
Still, because of that post, everyone’s attention quickly shifted to prom season — and away from her.
For the first time in days, people weren’t whispering about her.
By afternoon, the old picture of her and Noah on ClassClown’s page had even been deleted.
“That’s weird… ClassClown never deletes posts.”
It puzzled her, but before she could think too hard, her chemistry teacher surprised the class with a pop quiz, and Jamie’s focus snapped elsewhere.
* * *
That afternoon, after classes ended, Jamie headed straight to the parking lot.
She had volunteer work scheduled at the local community garden.
Her old beat-up car stood awkwardly surrounded by a lineup of shiny luxury vehicles.
The engine took forever to start, the air conditioner was broken — but it was hers, and she loved it.
Then she noticed something that made her stop dead in her tracks.
“…What the heck?”
A massive black stain covered the car door.
As she walked closer, her stomach dropped — it wasn’t a stain.
Someone had spray-painted the word “FREAK” in huge block letters across her door.
An empty can of black spray paint rolled on the ground nearby.
“What the—!? Who did this to my baby!?”
Jamie ran up and tried wiping it off with her hand, but the paint wouldn’t budge.
She groaned in frustration, clutching her head.
“Who would do this? Just when the rumors were finally dying down!”
She grabbed the spray can and scanned the area — no one in sight.
Great. I parked in the corner with no CCTV cameras. Perfect.
Clenching the can tightly, she muttered to herself.
“The paint’s still fresh. Whoever did this must still be nearby.”
Fuming, she stormed across campus, checking every corner.
By the time she reached one of the side buildings, she saw a large male student standing alone in the distance.
It was Augustine — tall, broad-shouldered, and intimidating.
“Oh, crap—you scared me.”
He quickly stomped on something near his foot, then looked up sharply.
“You again?”
