“So?”
“Students remember students who report them.”
Jordan thought about Miguel being formally blamed for something a student had done as entertainment.
“Request the video.”
The footage was unmistakable.
Savannah picked up the bag.
Dumped the trash.
Raised her phone.
Brooke laughed beside her.
Miguel did nothing except clean a mess someone else created.
His disciplinary note was removed the following day.
Savannah and Brooke were referred to Student Accountability.
Neither was suspended from classes.
Savannah lost her Student Programming Board position for the remainder of the academic year. Both women received service requirements and conduct probation. They were also required to complete a program on respect toward university employees.
Savannah found out Jordan gave the original witness statement.
Two days later, she waited outside the student union.
Jordan had just clocked out when Savannah stepped into the center of the walkway.
“You reported me.”
Jordan stopped.
“Yes.”
The direct answer seemed to throw Savannah off.
“You’re just admitting it?”
“What am I supposed to pretend happened?”
“You got me kicked off Programming.”
Jordan adjusted her backpack.
“No.”
“You dumped trash behind Miguel and uploaded a video that made it look like he did it.”
“It was a joke.”
“He got written up.”
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Jordan looked at her.
“It happened.”
Savannah took another step.
“You could’ve talked to me.”
“What would you have done?”
“Deleted the video.”
“Would you have told his supervisor what actually happened?”
Savannah said nothing.
Jordan nodded once.
“That’s what I thought.”
She walked around her.
Savannah spoke from behind.
“You really shouldn’t have made yourself part of this.”
Jordan paused.
Not long.
Then continued toward class.
The first retaliation looked childish enough to ignore.
Savannah began calling her “Union Cop.”
Brooke laughed whenever Jordan passed their table inside the food court. Somebody taped a paper sign reading STUDENT CENTER POLICE above the small facilities desk where Jordan checked room keys.
Jordan tore it down.
Another appeared four days later.
REPORT ANY FUN IMMEDIATELY TO OFFICER AVERY
Harold removed that one before Jordan arrived.
Then the coffee happened.
Jordan left her backpack underneath a staff table while helping reset a conference room. When she returned, the outer pocket was soaked. Someone had poured nearly an entire iced coffee into it.
A charger was ruined.
So was a notebook containing almost six weeks of research notes for an urban-policy class.
Jordan carried the bag back to her dorm.
Her roommate, Asha Coleman, watched her spread wet pages across towels.
“This is not funny anymore.”
“It wasn’t funny before.”
“You know what I mean.”
Jordan pressed another damp sheet flat.
“There’s no camera by that table.”
Asha stared.
“You know who did it.”
“I think I know.”
“You know.”
“That’s not the same as proving it.”
Asha climbed down from her bed.
“You keep saying that like proof is going to appear only after they do something worse.”
Jordan stopped moving.
She hated the sentence.
Mostly because it was close to what Harold said about patterns.