Chapter 8 - No More Laughter
News of Ms. Reed's suspension spread before first period.
Students gathered outside the music room and found the door locked.
Malik stood at the edge of the crowd.
Jordan stood at the opposite end.
Nobody laughed.
That might have been the strangest change of all.
The humiliation video had passed three million views.
The performance clip had passed nine.
Comments now filled Jordan's social media accounts.
Most were ugly.
Some were racist toward wealthy Black families in ways Malik despised.
Others threatened Jordan.
Malik posted one statement.
Do not threaten anybody for me. What happened needs truth, not a mob.
The post was shared nearly as widely as his performance.
Jordan read it alone in the restroom.
He had expected Malik to enjoy watching him become a target.
Instead Malik had defended him from people Malik didn't even like.
The realization made Jordan feel smaller.
At lunch, Brianna asked Malik to sit outside.
He almost refused.
Then she said, “I have evidence.”
They sat on a concrete bench behind the performing-arts building.
Brianna handed him printed screenshots.
Malik read them slowly.
Jordan's request.
The deleted-log demand.
The original-composition admission.
His hands tightened.
“You had these yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“And you're giving them to me now?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I should've done it sooner.”
Malik laughed bitterly.
“You want me to tell you you're brave?”
“No.”
“You want forgiveness?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Brianna's eyes filled.
“I want you to have what belongs to you.”
He looked down at the messages.
“My song?”
“Your proof.”
Malik folded the pages.
“You know what bothers me most?”
“What?”
“The audition.”
Brianna swallowed.
“You laughed because Jordan laughed.”
“I know.”
“You didn't even dislike me.”
“No.”
“You barely knew me.”
“I know.”
“So embarrassing me cost you nothing.”
Brianna wiped one tear angrily.
“I don't have an excuse.”
“Good.”
She nodded.
Malik stood.
As he turned away, Brianna said, “Jordan's afraid of his father.”
Malik stopped.
“So?”
“I think Victor changed your application.”
“Jordan tell you?”
“Not directly.”
“Then don't guess.”
“He said his father handled the school.”
Malik turned back.
“That's useful.”
Brianna looked surprised.
“What?”
“You said you wanted to help.”
He held up the screenshots.
“Help with facts.”
It was not forgiveness.
But it was a path.
That afternoon the student body received an email from Principal Hayes announcing that Ms. Reed had been placed on “routine administrative leave.”
Routine.
The word enraged Malik.
Nothing about what was happening was routine.
At 3:15, a substitute teacher opened the music room.
Malik entered to retrieve his keyboard.
The substitute stopped him.
“School equipment can't leave campus.”
Malik stared.
“That's mine.”
The man examined the battered keyboard.
“Oh.”
Malik almost smiled.
Apparently nobody would mistake it for school property.
He carried it into the hallway.
Jordan was waiting.
“We need to talk.”
“No.”
“Malik.”
“No.”
“My father did the lease thing.”
Malik stopped.
Jordan looked exhausted.
“He told me this morning.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because I didn't ask him to.”
Malik stared.
“But you asked him to fix the nomination.”
Jordan hesitated.
That was enough.
“You did.”
“I told him I couldn't lose.”
“So he erased me.”
“I didn't tell him how.”
“Convenient.”
“I didn't know he'd touch your housing.”
“But the song?”
Jordan looked away.
“That was me.”
The hallway seemed to narrow around them.
Malik lowered the keyboard.
“Say it again.”
“I used your demo.”
“You stole my song.”
Jordan's jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
Malik had imagined this confession.
In some versions he yelled.
In others he hit Jordan.
In one, he made a speech so perfect everyone nearby understood everything.
Reality was quieter.
“Why?”
Jordan looked toward the floor.
“Because when I heard you play it, I knew I couldn't write something better.”
The honesty was devastating.
“You could've asked.”
“You would've said no.”
“Then the answer was no.”
Jordan closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“No, you know now.”
Malik lifted the keyboard again.
Jordan blocked his path.
“Please don't release the messages.”
“Move.”
“My father will destroy Ms. Reed.”
“He already suspended her.”
“He can do worse.”
Malik looked directly at him.
“That's your argument?”
Jordan said nothing.
“You've spent your whole life believing fear is a family resource.”
Jordan flinched.
Malik stepped around him.
“I'm done paying for it.”
At home, Renee had news.
The housing attorney Camille referred them to had reviewed the lease letter and the Banks offer.
“He thinks the timing is strong evidence of retaliation.”
“Can we stay?”
“For now. They're sending a formal response.”
Malik nodded.
Renee studied him.
“What happened?”
“Jordan admitted it.”
“The song?”
“And his father.”
“Recorded?”
Malik froze.
No.
He had been alone.
Jordan could deny everything.
Renee saw his face.
“Baby.”
“I didn't record it.”
“That doesn't mean it didn't happen.”
“But it means I can't prove it.”
His phone vibrated.
A new message.
From Brianna.
YOU MIGHT BE ABLE TO.
Attached was an audio file.
Malik stared.
Brianna had left her phone recording in her designer backpack during the hallway conversation.
The file captured every word.
Including Jordan saying:
That was me.
Malik pressed pause.
He looked at his mother.
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For the first time since the audition, the balance of power had moved.
And Jordan didn't know it yet.
