"Hurry up, B.J. Someone is going to see us," Vic whispered, his eyes darting across the empty campus quad. The morning fog was still thick, obscuring the pathways.
"I am going as fast as I can," B.J. muttered. He pressed a heavy metal staple gun against the corkboard outside the student union building. Click-clack.
"It's tilted. Just put another staple in it."
"It doesn't matter if it's tilted, Vic!" B.J. hissed, grabbing another stack of bright, neon green paper from his backpack. "It just matters that people read it before the administration takes them down."
Vic stepped back and read the bold black text printed under a grainy, stolen yearbook photograph of Grayson Knight.
GRAYSON KNIGHT: ACADEMIC FRAUD. DO YOU KNOW WHO IS STEALING YOUR SCHOLARSHIP MONEY?
"It's weak, B.J.," Vic sai
