Chapter 2

In the group chat, my refusal had already been buried under a flood of new messages. Everyone simply assumed I'd give in eventually.

Dylan Sanders sounded excited.

"I've done the research. The water guns are filled with water, not acid. It's performance art. Even if the cops show up, they'll just give us a lecture and send us home."

Ryan sent a voice message, laughing maniacally and saying, "It'll be even more exciting if the cops show up. Imagine 23 of us getting pinned to the ground at the same time. That photo would be legendary. If we get called to the police station to give a statement, that would be even better."

Someone else added, "With 23 college acceptance letters on the line, no one would dare to cancel all of them at once. It's a group activity, not an individual crime."

"Banks are businesses. They're not going to pick a fight with a bunch of customers carrying water guns."

"It'd be even better if it went viral online. Everyone would know who we are. We'd save a fortune on promotion."

The more they talked, the more fired up they became. They could already see the fame, attention, and applause rushing toward them.

This time, I didn't bother explaining. I saved all the evidence—the group chat messages, the PDF file, the voice messages, and the private messages.

New messages kept pouring in.

They had already made every decision for me. They thought they could outweigh me with numbers.

Unfortunately for them, the one thing I was best at now was preserving evidence. I wanted to see whether the police could tell the difference between a real gun and a fake one from a distance.

Natalie didn't just post her plan in the group chat. She even took the whole idea to social media.

The caption read, "Exclusive First Release: Senior Class 3's Summer Fun Chaos Plan. Fake Bank Heist, Real Thrills."

The photo collage showed black ski masks, spray-painted water guns, a handwritten participant list, and a screenshot of the bank branch's address. My name had been circled with a fluorescent marker.

Comments quickly poured in.

"Are you insane? Are you trying to get your college acceptance letter revoked?"

Natalie replied, "What does a college acceptance have to do with what we do over the summer vacation? We're not even in school anymore."

Another commenter asked, "Which bank? I want to watch."

One of my classmates proudly replied, "Middleton Street Branch. 2:00 pm. Don't miss it."

"You guys are really doing this?"

Dylan answered, "Of course. See you in the livestream."

Then, some accounts started asking unusually specific questions.

"Which street does the bank's side entrance connect to?"

"How far is the vault from the teller counters?"

"How many of you will be there?"

"What time exactly will you start? Are you entering from the front or side entrance?"

Natalie didn't find any of it suspicious, treating it as growing engagement. She commented, "Stay tuned for the livestream, everyone. Friday, 2:00 pm. Don't miss it. Senior Class 3 is going to put on a great show."

I saved every screenshot. Then, I called our homeroom teacher, Mr. Zeller. The moment he heard my first sentence, his tone changed.

"More than twenty incoming college students are planning to rob a bank and livestream it?"

I replied, "Yes."

"This is ridiculous!"

"Mr. Zeller, I'll send you the PDF file and all the screenshots."

Mr. Zeller immediately said, "Don't confront them first. I'll verify everything right away."

After I sent the files, I waited for 40 minutes until he called back.

His tone was much softer as he spoke. "Ethan, I've spoken to Natalie, Ryan, Dylan, and several parents. They said they're just filming a prank video. The water guns contain water. The masks and robbery language are just for dramatic effect. The things said in the group chat were just jokes."

I nearly laughed.

"Does a joke require researching the number of security guards and estimating police arrival time?"

Mr. Zeller fell silent for a brief moment before saying, "They're young. They just finished high school. It's normal to exaggerate a little."

"Did you see the publicly posted location, schedule, and those suspicious comments?"

"I did."

"And you still think it's just a little exaggeration?"

Mr. Zeller's tone turned serious. "Ethan, you're the class president, not a police officer. 22 students are telling the same story. You're the only one treating it as something serious. Have you considered that you might simply be overreacting?"

Quietly, I started recording the call.

"What if they actually go through with it?" I asked.

"Then, you should guide them from within, not run straight to a teacher and make everyone look bad."

"I've already refused to participate."

"Refusing isn't a solution. You can't ruin the entire class' summer plan just because you personally don't like it."

In the end, I was somehow the one in the wrong.

After hanging up, I called my mom.

"Mom, some people from Senior Class 3 are planning something at a bank. I can't stop them."

Mom was silent for a moment. Then, she said, "Then, don't try to stop them. You just got your college acceptance letter. Don't drag yourself into their mess."

"I'm going to report it to the police."