Chapter 20: What Did Ethan Do
The last thing Professor Daniels said before dismissing class was, "Don’t forget your rough cuts are due next Monday."
Around me, chairs scraped against the floor as everyone packed up. Cameras disappeared into padded bags. Conversations picked up around the room, loud and familiar after three hours of editing footage. I shoved my laptop into my backpack, already thinking about the interview schedule I’d planned for the hockey documentary.
"Harper."
I looked up. Professor Daniels was watching me from the front of the room. For a second, I thought I’d forgotten an assignment.
"You wanted to see me?"
He hesitated. That alone was strange. Professor Daniels never hesitated.
"I just..." He cleared his throat. "How are you doing?"
I blinked. "I’m okay."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
He studied my face for another moment like he was looking for something I couldn’t see. "If you need extra time on your documentary this week, let me know."
I frowned. "Why would I need extra time?"
"No reason."
There was definitely a reason. Before I could ask again, he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Harper."
The gesture was so unexpected that I just stared at him. Professor Daniels wasn’t exactly known for being affectionate. If anything, he believed encouragement came in the form of impossible deadlines.
"Thank you," I said slowly.
I walked out of the classroom with a strange feeling settling in my stomach. Something about that conversation hadn’t felt right.
The hallway outside was crowded with students changing classes. As I stepped into the flow of people, conversations seemed to pause. Not completely. Just enough for me to notice. A girl standing by the vending machines glanced at me before whispering something to her friend. A guy farther down the hall looked up from his phone, frowned, then quickly looked away.
I slowed my pace. Maybe I was imagining things. It had been a long week. Between Mom, Justin, the documentary and everything else, maybe I was just exhausted.
I kept walking.
"Harper?"
I turned. Two girls from one of my elective classes were heading toward me. I knew their faces but not their names.
"Hey," I said.
One of them smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "How are you?"
"I’m fine."
"You okay?"
I laughed awkwardly. "I think so."
They exchanged a quick glance. "Good. Take care of yourself." Then they walked away.
I stood there for a second. What was that?
I adjusted my backpack and continued across campus. The farther I walked, the stranger it became. People kept looking at me. Some whispered. Others stopped talking altogether when I passed. One girl openly stared until her friend nudged her arm. A group of guys sitting outside the student center looked up from a phone all at once. One of them recognized me immediately. They all went quiet.
My chest tightened. Did I have something on my face? I pulled out my phone and switched to the front camera. No. I looked exactly the same.
I frowned. Had something happened to Justin? The thought made my pulse jump. I immediately opened our messages.
Where are you?
I waited. Nothing. I pressed his contact and called. Straight to voicemail. That wasn’t like him. I tried again. Voicemail.
A knot formed in my stomach. I started walking faster toward the media building, hoping maybe he’d finished practice early. Halfway there, another voice stopped me.
"Harper."
I looked over. Three girls were sitting on a bench outside the library. One of them offered me a small smile.
"Hey."
"Hi."
There was an awkward silence. Then she asked softly, "How are you holding up?"
Holding up? I frowned. "What do you mean?"
She looked at her friends. "Nothing."
"No, seriously." I laughed nervously. "Did I miss something?"
"No." Another one quickly stood. "We’ve got class."
The three of them hurried away before I could ask another question. I watched them disappear into the building.
Okay. Something was definitely wrong.
I opened Instagram. The app struggled to load. Campus Wi-Fi. Perfect timing. I switched to TikTok. Nothing. Everything was taking forever. I shoved my phone back into my pocket with a frustrated sigh. My heartbeat wouldn’t slow down. Every possible scenario kept running through my head. Mom. The hospital. Justin. The documentary. Ethan. The fake relationship. None of it made sense.
I had just reached the edge of the parking lot when someone shouted my name.
"Harper!"
I turned. Justin. He was weaving through students, moving so fast he nearly collided with a guy carrying a stack of books. His hair was a mess. His hockey bag hung awkwardly from one shoulder like he’d forgotten it was there. His eyes searched the crowd frantically until they landed on me. The second they did, relief flashed across his face. Only for a split second. Then it disappeared beneath something I’d never seen before.
Fear. Real fear.
He reached me and immediately grabbed my wrist. "We’re leaving."
"What?"
"Come on." He started pulling me toward his truck.
"Justin."
"Not here."
"What do you mean not here?"
"Just trust me."
Students were watching us. Some had their phones out. Justin noticed. His jaw tightened. He stepped closer until I was shielded beside him as we crossed the parking lot.
My stomach twisted. "Justin." He didn’t answer. I planted my feet. He stopped walking.
"What happened?"
"It’s nothing."
"Don’t lie to me."
Silence. My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
"Is my mom okay?"
"She’s fine."
"The documentary?"
"No."
"You got kicked off the team?"
He shook his head.
"Then what is it?"
He rubbed a hand over his face. For the first time since I’d met him, Justin looked completely lost. Like he had no idea how to protect me from whatever was coming.
"Please," I whispered.
His eyes met mine. "It wasn’t me."
I frowned. "What wasn’t you?"
He swallowed. "It was Ethan."
Every muscle in my body went still. "What about Ethan?"
Justin looked away for a second before forcing himself to meet my eyes again. "He posted something."
My stomach dropped. "What did he post?"
Justin didn’t answer. The silence told me it was bad. Really bad.
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