My only crime was telling a student to focus on her finals, not her boyfriend. Now, she's published a trashy roman à clef, claiming I broke them up so I could step in and claim her guy. What she doesn't know is that the "hero" of her story—the one I was allegedly fighting for—is my own flesh and blood. A mother looking out for her son? That’s not a crime. It’s instinct. St. Jude’s Prep invited one of its most "successful" recent graduates, Olivia Vance, back to campus for a celebratory keynote address. Olivia was my former student. Four years ago, she had graduated at the top of her class and gone on to Eastwood University. In the packed auditorium, she suddenly held up a book—a novel—and began recounting her "journey" to the thousands of students and faculty. "This is my autobiographical novel, Against the Wind and Tide: Our True Romance," she announced, beaming. "It’s the real story of my high school years. It features the glorious triumph of me and my amazing, straight-A boyfriend, Ryan Beaumont, as the top-two couple who got into Eastwood. And of course..." Olivia paused, her eyes locking onto mine in the front row. A shallow, triumphant smile curled her lips as she raised her voice: "It also details how our former homeroom teacher, Audrey Fang—who you can find right here," she gestured toward me, "tried to use the 'no dating policy' to sabotage true love—and, more shockingly, how she tried to use her position of power to steal my boyfriend for herself." The sound was a collective intake of breath, a roaring silence. Thousands of eyes swiveled in my direction, impaling me where I sat. 1 Olivia had been a student I’d nearly broken myself for. Her grades were once floundering in the C-range, but after three years of my exhaustive, single-minded focus, I’d managed to drag her to the top twenty. Just before the SATs, I even created a customized practice exam based on her specific weaknesses—a test that, by sheer luck, gave her the exact edge she needed to graduate as class valedictorian. The silhouette of that earnest, slightly overwhelmed girl in my memory shattered, dissolving into the polished, venomous figure now standing on the stage. I couldn't be mishearing this. The smile I’d worn for the alumni event froze on my face. Olivia saw the shift—my sudden, helpless exposure—and a flash of pure satisfaction crossed her eyes. She leaned back into the microphone. "Ryan and I were deeply, innocently in love in high school, but our homeroom teacher, Audrey Fang, repeatedly tried to drive a wedge between us," she continued, her voice heavy with manufactured grievance. "Because she was clearly obsessed with Ryan’s youth and looks, she hid behind the ‘no dating’ rule to bully us into breaking up." "Thankfully," Olivia chirped, "Ryan’s love was too strong. We encouraged each other, overcame every obstacle, and got into Eastwood together. And now, we’re finally getting married." She lifted her left hand, showcasing an immense, blinding diamond on her ring finger. A simultaneous burst of applause and fevered murmuring erupted. "Poor Olivia, having to deal with the school's creepiest teacher, Ms. Fang." "Ms. Fang is old enough to be Ryan's mother! Talk about a cougar." "I can’t believe a woman like that was ever my homeroom teacher. Sickening." I stared at Olivia. She held her novel to her chest, her expression one of wounded innocence. I pushed myself up from my seat. The low hum of gossip died down as I walked toward the stage, picking up the spare microphone. Everyone held their breath, watching me. I stopped a few feet from Olivia. My voice, surprisingly, was level. "Olivia, your address is… certainly a choice. But I have to ask: What exactly is the problem with a teacher enforcing a 'no dating' policy?" The auditorium was deathly quiet, waiting for her counterattack. She adjusted the desk mic, meeting my gaze head-on. "You don't believe students have a right to a normal, healthy relationship. That's problem number one." "And number two? You know exactly what the problem is. It wasn't about our studies, Ms. Fang. It was about your own predatory, manipulative agenda." She paused for maximum effect. "You threatened Ryan. You used your status as a teacher to tell him that if he didn't break up with me—and didn't comply with your perverse advances—you'd make sure he couldn't graduate or get into the college he wanted." Boom. The hall exploded in noise. Thousands of shocked, horrified whispers. My hand tightened around the microphone, my knuckles white, my breath coming fast and shallow. "Do you have any proof for this accusation?" Olivia's face briefly flickered, but she quickly regained her composure. "You were very careful. You never left a paper trail. If I hadn't followed Ryan and found out you were constantly forcing him to come to your house, I never would have known he was suffering from your sexual harassment." The whispers swelled, turning into shouts. "No way! This is the most scandalous thing I've ever heard!" "She should be reported to the state board! Sexual harassment of a student!" "Ms. Fang? That old woman? Who knew she was so twisted on the side?" The accusations were a physical wave, threatening to crash over the stage. Principal Miller quickly grabbed his microphone and prematurely ended the assembly. I was escorted out by two security guards, threading my way through a suffocating crowd of glaring faces. In my pocket, my phone vibrated. A new text blinked to the top of my lock screen, from Ryan. [Mom, I'm booked solid here, but I'll be home in a month. See you then.]
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