Smoke And Mirrors
1102 Words
The dorm hallway was too quiet. Not the peaceful kind of quiet, but the kind that made your skin itch. The kind that told you something was coming.
I sat on my bed, legs crossed, I borrowed Mia's laptop open in front of me, but I wasn’t typing. I was just staring at the screen, pretending to be busy while my brain ran a marathon. Mia was on the other bed, scrolling through her phone like nothing was wrong, but I could tell she was tense too. She kept glancing at me like I might explode.
“You really shut her down today,” she said finally, her voice low.
I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “She walked into that one.”
“She looked like she was going to combust,” Mia added, half-laughing. “I thought her dad was going to drag her out by the hair.”
I didn’t laugh. I couldn’t. My stomach was twisted in knots. “She’s not done. That wasn’t the end.”
Mia frowned. “You think she suspects you?”
I looked at her. “I know she does.”
The next morning, the dorm was buzzing again—but this time, it wasn’t whispers. It was flyers.
“VANDALISM IS A CRIME. IF YOU KNOW ANYTHING, REPORT IT.”
They were everywhere. On doors, bulletin boards, even taped to the inside of the bathroom stalls. And right in the middle of each one was a photo of the vandalized door. My handiwork. The red spray paint, the scratches, the devil horns I’d drawn over Beatrice’s name. It was all there, printed in glossy ink.
Mia stood beside me, staring at one of the flyers. “Okay, this is getting out of hand.”
I ripped it down and crumpled it. “She’s trying to scare people into talking.”
“She’s trying to scare you,” Mia said.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. We both knew she was right.
Later that day, Mia found me outside our lecture hall, her face pale.
“She’s talking to the RA,” she whispered. “Beatrice. She’s trying to get access to the dorm security footage.”
My heart skipped. “There’s no camera in the hallway.”
“No, but there’s one at the entrance. If they see you coming back late…”
“I wore a hoodie,” I said quickly. “Kept my head down.”
Mia didn’t look convinced. “Still. This is bad.”
I nodded, jaw tight. “I’ll handle it.”
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, every creak of the floorboards outside making my heart race. At 2:17 a.m., my phone buzzed.
Mia: Beatrice is outside. Talking to the RA. I think she’s asking to search your room.
I sat up, pulse pounding. I pressed my ear to the door. I could hear her voice—low, angry.
“…she’s hiding something. I want her room searched.”
I backed away from the door, my mind spinning. I’d cleaned everything. I’d been careful. But still—what if I missed something?
The next morning, I was summoned to the principal’s office.
I walked in with my head high, even though my insides were shaking. Principal Langston sat behind his desk, looking like he hadn’t slept. Beatrice was already there, perched in a chair like she owned the place.
“Miss Aisha,” Langston said, folding his hands. “We’ve received a request to investigate your involvement in the vandalism incident.”
I didn’t blink. “On what grounds?”
Beatrice leaned forward, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “You were seen coming back late. You’ve had issues with me before. And you laughed when I was upset.”
I turned to Langston. “Is laughing a crime now?”
He sighed. “We’re not accusing you. But we need to be thorough.”
Beatrice smirked. “I say we search her room.”
I looked at her, then back at Langston. “You don’t have that right.”
“We’ll need your consent,” he said.
“And if I say no?”
“We’ll have to escalate.”
I stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Fine. Let’s get it over with.”
Back at the dorm, two RAs entered my room. Mia stood off to the side, watching nervously. I stood with my arms crossed, trying not to let my fear show.
They searched everything. Drawers. Closet. Under the bed. I kept my face blank, but my heart was pounding so hard I thought it might crack my ribs.
Then one of them pulled out a black hoodie from the laundry basket.
Beatrice gasped. “That’s what she was wearing!”
I stepped forward. “That’s my hoodie. So what?”
“There’s paint on it,” she said triumphantly.
Everyone turned to look. A faint smear of red paint stained the sleeve.
My stomach dropped.
Before I could say anything, Mia stepped forward.
“That’s my hoodie,” she said.
Everyone turned to her.
“I borrowed it from Aisha last week. I wore it when I went out to paint a banner for the art club. That’s where the paint came from.”
Beatrice’s face twisted. “You’re lying.”
Mia shrugged. “Ask the art club. We were prepping for the exhibit.”
Langston looked uncertain. “We’ll verify that.”
Beatrice was fuming. “She’s covering for her!”
I looked her dead in the eye. “Or maybe you’re just wrong.”
The art club backed Mia’s story. The hoodie was dismissed. No evidence. No proof. Beatrice was warned for harassment.
But the damage was done.
That night, I sat on the rooftop, watching the stars. Mia joined me, handing me a soda.
“You owe me,” she said.
I smiled. “Big time.”
We sat in silence for a while. The wind was cool, the sky clear. For the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe.
Eventually, Mia stood. “I’m gonna head back. You good?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks.”
She nodded and left.
I stayed a little longer, letting the quiet settle around me.
The next day, Beatrice passed me in the hallway. She didn’t say anything. Just looked at me, then looked away.
I didn’t say anything either.
We weren’t friends. We weren’t enemies. We were just… existing. In the same space. Minding our own business.
And for now, that was enough.
- Writer
