By the time the bell rang at 8:00 a.m., the principal’s brand-new electric car looked like it had been dragged through a paint factory and left to dry in the Southern California sun.

Hot pink spray paint dripped down the midnight-blue hood in messy rivers. Someone had drawn a cartoon mustache across the chrome logo and written in giant crooked letters on the driver’s door:

BARKING UP THE WRONG TREE

Students crowded the parking lot of Westview High—just twenty miles outside Los Angeles, where half the kids dreamed of becoming influencers and the other half pretended they didn’t. Phones were out, cameras up, voices overlapping.

“Dude, that’s the principal’s Tesla, right?”

“Somebody’s failing senior year.”

“Oh man, this is going on TikTok.”

From a few rows back, Adam Bridges stood frozen, backpack hanging from one arm, staring at the car like it might suddenly explain itself.

He’d pulled some outrageous senior pranks before—a hallway full of balloons, fake morning announcements, a classroom filled with blow-up flamingos—but he’d retired after getting suspended for a week in the fall. His mom had made him sign a handwritten contract: No more pranks or no car privileges. He’d meant it when he promised.

Still, when Principal Mackenzie elbowed his way through the crowd, face already red, Adam’s gut sank.

Because across the vandalized door, in letters almost as big as the ones painted there, someone had left his catchphrase.

“Barking up the wrong tree,” he muttered under his breath, feeling his pulse spike. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Beside him, Julia Porter—his girlfriend since junior year, hair twisted into a ponytail, hands wrapped around a coffee she wasn’t supposed to have—noticed the words and winced. “Okay, that’s… weird,” she said.

“Adam,” a familiar voice called. “You might want to walk the other way.”

He turned. Christian Alvarez sauntered over in a bomber jacket, sunglasses on even though they were in the shade of the science building. Christian was Westview’s resident clout-chaser—always chasing followers, always claiming he’d hung out with someone famous in Hollywood over the weekend.

“You will never guess who we hung out with this weekend,” Christian announced to Julia, sliding in front of them like he’d been waiting for the perfect entrance.

“Let me guess,” Julia said, aiming for amused and landing somewhere near exhausted. “Kourtney Kardashian again?”

“Yeah, right,” Adam muttered.

“No, I’m serious,” Christian insisted, already thumbing at his phone. “Look. I’ll show you.”

He held up a video. Onscreen, a grainy rooftop scene over downtown L.A. played out. Christian stood beside a woman who looked suspiciously like Kourtney Kardashian—same bob, same outfit, same half-smile—as the skyline glowed behind them. She laughed at something he said. A drummer who looked a lot like Travis Barker crossed behind them.

“What?” Julia breathed. “No way.”

“You see?” Christian grinned. “We’re basically best friends now. I could introduce you if you like.” He leaned closer. “All you have to do is hang out with me instead of Adam this weekend.”

Adam snorted. “Photoshop,” he said.

Christian bristled. “Excuse me?”

“Bless you,” Adam said blandly.

Julia shot him a look even as she bit back a smile.

The crowd around the Tesla parted like a movie scene, and Principal Mackenzie stepped into the center.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, his tie slightly crooked, his graying hair more frazzled than usual. He stared at his ruined car for a long moment, jaw clenching so hard the muscle jumped. Then he slowly turned, scanning the crowd.

His eyes landed on Adam. They narrowed.

“Oh no,” Julia whispered. “He’s got his horns out today.”

“Adam,” the principal said, voice cutting clean through the noise. “In my office. Now.”

“In your office?” Adam said, trying for light and landing on strained. “What for? I’ve got history right now.”

“You know exactly what for,” Mackenzie replied, voice dropping. “Since you and I have unfinished business from your last ‘prank.’” His eyes flicked to Julia. “You,” he added. “You’re always with him. Why don’t you come along and find out?”

Julia’s stomach twisted. “Principal Mackenzie, I’m sure there’s been a mistake,” she said quickly. “I’ve known Adam forever. He would never do something like this in a million years.”

The principal’s face didn’t soften. “It’s not a mistake,” he said. “I have all the evidence I need.”

He jerked his head toward the building. “Let’s go.”

As they walked past, Christian called after Adam in a stage whisper. “Tough break, man.”

Adam didn’t respond. He was too busy trying to remember every second of his weekend, replaying it to see where anyone could’ve seen him near that car.

His mind came up blank.

The principal’s office was as intimidating as ever—an American flag in the corner, a framed UCLA diploma on the wall, a photo of Mackenzie shaking hands with the mayor of their little city. Through the blinds, the ruined car glared in the morning sun.

Mackenzie closed the door, then tapped at his keyboard. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to give you the satisfaction of reliving your little show,” he said, voice cold. “But since you’re such a fan of video…”

A window popped up on his computer screen. He turned it so they both could see.

Someone in a dark hoodie stood in the parking lot late at night, the image grainy and green from a cheap security camera. The figure glanced around, then popped open a backpack, pulled out spray cans, and went to work on the principal’s car with quick, practiced strokes.

The footage was terrible—old camera, low light, pixels swimming like fish in an algae-filled tank. The person’s face was mostly a blur.

“There’s no way that’s me,” Adam said, too quickly. “That video’s way too low-quality to tell who it is.”

“That’s what you think,” Principal Mackenzie said. He picked up a small flash drive from his desk, turning it between his fingers. “Fortunately for me, we have a student here who knows a thing or two about technology.”

He pressed the intercom. “Francis? Do me a favor. Take William out of class. I need his help with something again.”

“Again?” Julia mouthed.

“Yes, Principal Mackenzie,” came the secretary’s voice.

Adam slumped into the chair opposite the desk. “Who’s William?” he asked.

“The nerdy kid with the glasses in your history class,” Julia said. “He’s always helping the office fix tech stuff.”

“Fantastic,” Adam muttered. “I’m being tried by the I.T. department.”

A knock sounded at the door. “Send him in,” Mackenzie said.

William stepped in clutching a worn backpack, his glasses sliding down his nose, his polo shirt buttoned all the way up. He blinked at the principal, then at the two of them.

“You needed something, sir?” he asked.

“Why are you not in class?” the principal said automatically, then waved his own question away. “Never mind. I need your help with a different kind of mystery today. You’re the only one here with the technical know-how to solve it.”

William’s shoulders straightened almost imperceptibly. “Uh… what do you need help with?” he asked.

The principal held out the flash drive. “I need you,” he said, “to help me prove something beyond a reasonable doubt.”

He pointed toward Adam. “Help me determine the identity of a student. This contains all the audio and video recordings you’ll need.”

William hesitated, then took the drive. “I can try,” he said. “If you give me the files, I can work with them.”

“You’ll get whatever you need,” Mackenzie said. “But first, I’ll need a voice recording.” He turned to Adam. “Say something.”

“What do you want me to say?” Adam asked flatly.

“That’ll do,” William said quietly. “I’ll be in the computer lab. Just… give me fifteen minutes.”

As he slipped out, clutching the evidence like it was a sacred relic, Adam turned to Julia. “This is crazy,” he said. “You believe me, right? I didn’t do this. I swear.”

“I know,” she said. “I know what kind of stuff you’d do. This isn’t it.”

Mackenzie watched them with a hard, unreadable expression. “We’re about to find out,” he said.

Fifteen minutes stretched like an hour. The principal busied himself answering emails. Julia sat on the edge of the chair, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles turned white. Adam stared at the floor, replaying every prank he’d ever done, regretting all of them at once.

Finally, the door opened. William walked in, color a little drained from his face.

“Any progress?” the principal asked.

“Yes, sir,” William said. “I was able to match the voicemail you gave me with the audio recording of Adam I took earlier.”

“Voicemail?” Julia repeated. “What voicemail?”

Principal Mackenzie clicked another file. Tinny audio filled the room:

“Hey there, Principal Mackenzie,” Adam’s voice said—or something that sounded a lot like it. “Such a shame what happened to your brand-new car. But that’s what you get. You thought you could mess with me… but you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Julia’s stomach dropped. “Adam,” she whispered.

“I never left that,” Adam protested. “I swear. I would never be that obvious.”

“And this,” William said, “is the sample I took earlier.” He clicked again. “What do you want me to say?” Adam’s earlier annoyance echoed back at them.

“Now all I have to do is run them through this program, and…” He tapped a few keys. Bars and graphs sprang up on the screen.

He stared. His brow furrowed. “What?” he said quietly. “That… can’t be right.”

“How do we know it’s not a glitch?” Julia asked quickly.

“Yeah,” Adam said. “How can you tell it’s me in those videos anyway? You still can’t see my face.”

“For that,” William said, swallowing, “I used an A.I.-based program to help clear up the footage.”

He clicked. The grainy parking lot video reappeared—only this time, as the program processed the pixels, the image sharpened. Lines grew distinct. Colors deepened.

The figure in the hoodie came into focus.

“Pause it,” the principal said.

William froze the frame.

Julia sucked in a breath. “That’s…” she started.

The hoodie was unzipped just enough to show a letterman jacket underneath, the sleeves a distinctive teal, the body black, a patchy iron-on logo peeling at the edges. It was ugly. And unmistakeable.

“That’s Adam’s jacket,” Julia finished. “I don’t know anyone else who wears that stupid jacket except you.”

“But you still can’t see my face,” Adam argued, voice thin. “That could be anyone wearing my jacket. You have no way to know for sure that’s me.”

William opened another file. “If you look at the video of the car being vandalized,” he said, “from that other angle…”

Another grainy clip played—closer, from a different security camera mounted above the office door. This one showed the vandal’s profile more clearly.

The principal leaned in. “Zoom in,” he said.

William did.

The frame froze on a side view: the curve of a jaw, the slope of a nose, the fall of hair under the hoodie. The face was still slightly distorted, but it looked alarmingly familiar.

“Okay,” the principal said, his voice like ice. “We’re done here.”

“Sir,” William started, “I—”

“Thank you, William,” Mackenzie cut in. “You can go back to class now. You too, Julia.”

Julia hesitated, looking between Adam and the principal. “Are you sure…?”

“You can go,” he repeated.

Her eyes met Adam’s. They were full of something he hated: doubt.

He wanted to grab her hand, drag her back, tell her everything again until she believed him. But the principal’s expression made it clear that this was not the moment to test boundaries.

“You’re coming with me,” Mackenzie told Adam. “I’ve already called your parents. You and I are going to have a serious conversation.”

“That’s not me,” Adam said desperately as he was ushered out. “I don’t know who did that, but it’s not me. You’re making a huge mistake—”

The door shut behind them, cutting his voice off mid-plea.

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Julia.

Rumors spread faster than any official email: Adam got caught vandalizing Mackenzie’s Tesla. Adam stole the history answer key. Adam was getting expelled. Adam was being sent to juvenile court.

By lunch, half the school had decided he was a criminal genius. The other half thought he was just an idiot with a spray can.

By the time the final bell rang, Julia’s head pounded with “Did you hear?” and “Are you okay?” and “Are you going to break up with him?”

She lingered by her locker, twisting the combination dial just to have something to do with her hands.

“Julia,” a voice said, smooth as always. “I heard what happened to Adam. I’m so sorry.”

She turned. Christian leaned on the locker next to hers like it belonged to him, one eyebrow raised in what he probably thought was a sympathetic expression.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m… still getting over the shock.”

“I can imagine,” he said. “But hey, can I show you something that will cheer you up?”

“I don’t know if I’m really in the mood,” she said.

He brightened anyway. “Come on,” he coaxed. “You’ll love it. You’ll never guess who I hung out with this time.”

“If you’re going to show me another Photoshopped picture of you with some celebrity…” she began.

“It’s not a picture,” he said triumphantly. “It’s a whole video.”

He pulled up his camera roll and tapped. On the screen, Christian stood in what looked like a sleek studio, all black walls and instruments. Next to him, a heavily tattooed drummer with a shaved head and unmistakable profile thumped out a beat on a kit.

“That… looks a lot like Travis Barker,” Julia said.

“That is Travis Barker,” Christian said, like it was obvious. “Courtney connected us. I’m telling you, Travis loves me. He even wants to teach me how to play the drums. I’ve been practicing.”

The drummer laughed at something Christian said. The video cut off.

“You know,” Christian said, lowering his phone, “since you broke up with Adam, I could take care of you now.”

“Since I broke up with Adam?” she echoed. “Who said we broke up?”

He blinked. “I just figured… if he’s a criminal and all, you’d—”

“He is not a criminal,” she snapped. “Whatever everyone is saying, I don’t believe he did it. Not really.”

“A little birdie told me he might be going to juvie,” Christian said. “You really shouldn’t be dating a guy like that. You deserve a nice guy. Someone who could take you to Darian’s party tonight, for example.”

“You know Darian?” she asked, surprised despite herself. Darian was an up-and-coming creator in Los Angeles, an influencer who threw parties people posted about in endless Instagram stories.

“Yeah, I know him,” Christian said casually. “I got invited to his house party tonight. I was going to ask if you wanted to go… with me.”

She stared at her locker door instead of his face. “I… need time to think about things,” she said.

“Fine,” he said, pushing off the locker. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

He disappeared down the hall, shoulders thrown back.

“Hey, Julia,” another voice said softly.

She turned. William stood there, hugging his backpack to his chest.

“Oh,” she said. “Hi.”

“I just wanted to say I’m really sorry about Adam,” he said in a rush. “I didn’t… I was only doing what Principal Mackenzie told me to do.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I know.” Of everyone involved, William looked the worst—eyes shadowed, shoulders hunched like he was carrying extra weight.

“I still feel bad,” he said. “If you need anyone to talk to, I’m… I’m here.”

“Thanks,” she said. “But don’t blame yourself. You just ran the programs. It’s not like you vandalized the car.”

He nodded, chewing on his lip. “I still don’t totally believe it,” she admitted. “That it was Adam. I mean… the videos looked… off. I don’t know.”

“After what Principal Mackenzie showed us, it’s hard to believe it couldn’t be him,” William said quietly. “I mean, the analysis… everything matched. And… Adam needs to learn that his actions—” he paused, then continued in a tone that sounded like he was quoting someone, “—have a way of coming back to him.”

“If those videos were really that clear,” she said slowly, “maybe I should look at them again.”

“I’m not supposed to show you this,” William said, glancing up and down the hallway like Mackenzie might appear from the floor tiles. Then he slid his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped a small pocket.

He pulled out the flash drive.

“This has all the files,” he said. “Copy of what I used.”

Her heart jumped. “How did you get that?”

“Principal Mackenzie told me to hang onto the evidence,” William said. “He doesn’t trust Adam not to sneak in and steal it. He asked me to keep it somewhere safe.”

“Can I borrow it?” she asked.

“I really shouldn’t give it to you,” William said immediately. “If anything happens to it… if he finds out… he’d—”

“I’ll give it back,” she said quickly. “I swear. I’m seeing Adam after school. I know he’s going to try to convince me again that it wasn’t him. If… if he really is a bad guy, I need to know the truth. And if he’s not… he deserves a chance.”

William looked at her for a long moment, something unreadable passing behind his lenses.

“Okay,” he said finally. “But bring it back tomorrow. And don’t tell anyone I gave it to you.”

“I won’t,” she said, closing her fingers around the drive. “Promise.”

After three ignored calls and a dozen texts, Adam finally met her at the park near his house, hands shoved in his pockets, hair a mess from where he’d been yanking at it.

“I’m so happy to see you,” he said, reaching for a hug.

She let him wrap his arms around her, but her own stayed limp at her sides.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling back.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” she asked, staring up at him.

“No,” he said instantly. “No way. Do you think I’d lie to you about this?”

“Then explain this.” She held up the flash drive.

His eyes widened. “Where did you get that?”

“William let me borrow it,” she said. “This is the evidence Principal Mackenzie used. The voice match. The video. Everything.”

Adam stared at it, then at her. Something like relief flickered across his face. “This is perfect,” he said.

“Perfect?” she echoed. “Adam, this is the thing that could get you expelled.”

“I’ve been doing research,” he said quickly. “I want to show you something. Send the files to me when you can. But right now, look at this.”

He pulled out his phone and opened a video.

Onscreen, Tom Cruise laughed in what looked like a kitchen, looking straight into the camera. “Hey guys,” he said, in that unmistakable voice. “I want to show you this cool magic trick. Watch closely.”

He snapped his fingers. A coin appeared in his hand.

“Tom Cruise?” Julia said. “What does that—”

“That is not Tom Cruise,” Adam said. “Watch.”

He opened another window. A tech video played, explaining deepfake technology in simple terms, showing how faces could be swapped convincingly, how voices could be synthesized with just a few samples.

“Kids that know what they’re doing can make anybody say anything,” Adam said. “Look—here’s the original clip of some random guy doing a magic trick. And here’s the deepfake with Tom Cruise’s face on top. They even changed the voice.”

Julia watched, her stomach turning. The resemblance was uncanny. If she hadn’t seen the tutorial, she never would’ve guessed.

“The voicemail Mackenzie played,” Adam said. “It sounded like me—but not exactly like me. Like… someone stitched together my voice from recordings. That’s what this is.” He held up the flash drive. “Somebody did the same thing with me. I just don’t know who.”

“You think someone deepfaked you,” she said slowly. “To frame you.”

“I know I didn’t do it,” he said. “And I know I didn’t call him.” He looked at her. “That only leaves one option.”

“Who would even know how?” she asked. “Christian knows tech, but he’s too busy faking videos with Kourtney Kardashian and Travis Barker.”

Adam froze. “Exactly,” he said. “He already knows how to make deepfakes.”

She stared. “You think Christian did it?” she asked. “Just to—what—steal me away?”

“He’s been trying for months,” Adam said. “He’s obsessed with clout. Framing me would be a great way to clear the field.”

“That’s… insane,” she said. But the thought had taken root. “He does know how to fake videos,” she admitted.

“Let’s ask him,” Adam said. “If he’s got nothing to hide, he won’t mind answering a few questions.”

They found Christian where he worked weekday evenings—the electronics store in the strip mall near the freeway. Rows of TVs glowed behind him, all looping the same ad with sweeping drone shots of downtown Los Angeles and smiling families carrying shopping bags down Santa Monica’s Third Street Promenade.

Christian looked up from straightening a row of expensive headphones when they walked in. His eyes narrowed the second he spotted Adam.

“Why’d you do it?” Adam asked, skipping hello entirely.

Christian blinked. “Do what?”

“Try to frame me,” Adam said. “You took a video of yourself vandalizing Principal Mackenzie’s car, then you used a deepfake to make yourself look like me. Same with the voicemail.”

Christian laughed, an ugly sound. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. “Why would I do something stupid like that?”

“Because you’re obsessed with Julia,” Adam shot back. “You’ve been trying to take her away from me all year.”

“Wow,” Christian said. “Your ego is wild.”

“We know you can make deepfakes,” Julia said, stepping in. “Those videos with Kourtney and Travis? The Tom Cruise one Adam showed me? You know how.”

“So do a lot of people on the internet,” Christian said. “That doesn’t mean I vandalized a car.”

“Just admit it,” Adam said. “It was you.”

“On everything, it wasn’t me,” Christian said. “Last Friday night, when the video was taken, I wasn’t even at school. I was working here.”

“Oh really?” Adam said. “That’s convenient.”

“Ask my manager,” Christian said, crossing his arms. “He was here. He’ll vouch for me.”

“Ricky!” he called toward the back. “Can you come here for a sec?”

A middle-aged man in a polo appeared, wiping his hands on a microfiber cloth. “Something I can help you with?” he asked, eyeing Adam warily.

“These two are accusing me of robbing the school Friday night,” Christian said. “Tell them where I was.”

“Robbing the school?” Ricky repeated, eyebrows shooting up. “No, no. Christian was here working. We were doing inventory until almost midnight.”

“Are you sure?” Adam asked.

“Positive,” Ricky said. “If you don’t believe me, we can check the shift schedule.”

He walked over to a computer behind the counter, clicked around, then turned the monitor so they could see. “See?” he said. “Last Friday. Christian, 4:00 p.m. to 11:30 p.m.”

Adam felt his certainty crumble. If it wasn’t Christian, then who…?

Julia’s eyes were on the jacket hanging on the end of the headphone aisle—the same ugly teal-sleeved, black-bodied letterman style that had appeared in the vandalism video.

“You sell that jacket?” she asked.

Ricky glanced over. “Yeah,” he said. “New line. In three different colors. We’ve only sold a few, though. Why?”

“You can look up who bought them, right?” Adam asked, feeling something click. “On the transaction history?”

Ricky hesitated. “It’s not exactly standard procedure to show customers other customers’ receipts,” he said.

“Please,” Julia said. “This is important. Like—school discipline, possibly legal trouble important. Somebody used that jacket to frame Adam for vandalizing a car on campus. We’re just trying to find out who.”

Ricky exhaled. “Okay,” he said. “Just this once.”

He typed for a moment. A list popped up. He scrolled, then stopped. “Here,” he said, pointing. “We sold that jacket in that color twice. One online order, one in-store pickup. The in-store one…” He squinted at the name. “…was William Park.”

Julia’s mouth fell open. “William?” she repeated. “As in… William with the glasses? The tech kid?”

“No way,” Adam said. “He works here too?”

“He picked it up last Wednesday,” Ricky said. “Over at register three. Paid in cash, though. Don’t know why that matters.”

“It matters,” Adam said.

His heart was pounding again, but for a very different reason.

They drove straight back to Westview, the late-afternoon sky over their little slice of California fading from blue to a smoggy gold. Students were still trickling out of clubs and sports practice. The principal’s car had been towed; the parking space where it usually sat was now just an oil-stained rectangle of asphalt.

William was in the computer lab, of course. He sat alone in front of a bank of monitors, the rest of the room dim except for the glow of screensavers. Lines of code and video timelines filled his screen.

“William,” Julia said, pushing open the door.

He jumped, then relaxed when he saw who it was. “Oh,” he said. “Hey. Did you bring the drive back? I was starting to worry.”

“You did it,” Adam said.

William’s face went pale. “What are you talking about?” he stammered.

“You bought my jacket,” Adam said. “You used my voice recordings. You made a deepfake to frame me. For everything.”

William’s gaze darted to the flash drive in Julia’s hand. “I didn’t do anything,” he said. “Why would I do that?”

“Because of her,” Adam said. “This was never about me. It was about Julia. You wanted me out of the picture.”

“That’s ridiculous,” William said, but his voice shook. “I—I mean, okay, maybe I lied about hanging out with Courtney and Travis,” he added quickly, grasping for a diversion. “Those were deepfakes. But the vandalism—you saw the analysis. It was you.”

“We also saw the transaction history,” Julia said quietly. “At the store. Your name. The jacket. The day before the car was vandalized.”

“And you’re the only one with access to the security footage and Mackenzie’s voicemail,” Adam added. “You stitched my voice together. Just admit it.”

Silence stretched.

William’s shoulders slumped. He stared down at his hands, fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt.

“It wasn’t supposed to go that far,” he said finally, voice small.

“William,” Julia said.

He swallowed. “I used audio files of you,” he told Adam, words tumbling out now. “Clips from your morning announcements. Your old prank videos. Stuff from social media. The AI synthesized what it needed to make that voicemail. Then I used an off-the-shelf face-swap program to overlay your face onto mine. The jacket was to sell it. Mackenzie hates that jacket. I knew he’d fixate on it.”

“I knew it,” Adam said, half furious, half vindicated.

“But why?” Julia asked, hurt threaded through every syllable. “Why would you do that to him? To me?”

William looked at her like he’d been waiting his entire life to say the next words and terrified of them at the same time.

“Because I love you,” he blurted. “Everyone does. I mean—who isn’t in love with you? But you never even looked at me. Just him. The guy who pulled pranks and broke rules and never took anything seriously. I thought… if he was out of the way, you’d finally see me.”

“By destroying his life?” she said in disbelief. “By lying?”

“I didn’t think it through,” William said miserably. “I just… Principal Mackenzie trusted me. He gave me the evidence. He always calls me when there’s a problem with tech. I thought I could control the narrative.” His laugh came out bitter. “Guess I was wrong.”

The door opened behind them. “You were more than wrong,” Principal Mackenzie said.

He stepped into the room with the quiet heaviness of someone who’d seen too many teenagers make terrible decisions.

“I’ve heard enough,” he said. “I suspected something was off the moment you told me the match was a hundred percent. And when Julia didn’t bring that flash drive back on time, I figured she might be onto something.”

William stared at the floor. “Sir, I—”

“You should have taken your own advice, William,” the principal said. “You told me yourself that actions have a way of coming back to you. You were right.”

He turned to Adam. “I owe you an apology,” he said. The words were stiff, but sincere. “I let my history with you cloud my judgment. I saw what I expected to see.”

“Yeah,” Adam said, swallowing. “You did.”

“I’ll be calling your parents,” Mackenzie said—to William this time, his tone hardening. “We will be discussing consequences. Serious ones.”

William nodded, small and defeated.

“You two can go,” the principal told Adam and Julia. “We’ll handle the rest.”

Outside, the afternoon air felt different—lighter somehow, even though the campus was the same square of concrete and grass it had been that morning.

“I still can’t believe it was William,” Julia said, hugging her books to her chest. “He was literally the last person I’d suspect. He always seemed so… gentle.”

“Quiet doesn’t mean harmless,” Adam said. Then he winced. “Wow. I heard that. I sound like a principal.”

Julia laughed despite herself. “I’m sorry,” she said, stopping in the middle of the walkway.

“For what?” he asked.

“For doubting you,” she said. “For even a second. I should have believed you right away.”

“You saw what I saw,” he said. “If there’s one thing this whole mess proved, it’s that video doesn’t always tell the whole truth.”

“Still,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “You went digging for the real answer. You didn’t just accept what they told you. That’s… pretty awesome.”

She smiled and slipped her hand into his. “So,” she said. “Now that you’re not being expelled for vandalism, what do you want to do tonight?”

“Not vandalize anything,” he said. “Low bar, I know.”

A voice called from behind them. “Hey!”

They turned. Christian jogged toward them, slightly out of breath.

“I heard you got cleared,” he said. “Good. I mean, not that I doubted you or anything. I just figured it was none of my business.”

“You literally called me a criminal three hours ago,” Adam said.

“Details,” Christian said, waving a hand. “Anyway, I owe you an apology too. Sorry I assumed, man.”

Adam shrugged. “You kind of deserved to be suspected,” Julia told him. “You faked hanging out with half of Hollywood.”

“Okay, fine,” Christian said. “I lied about Kourtney. And Travis. And, uh… a couple others. But I didn’t lie about going to Darian’s party tonight.”

“Sure you didn’t,” Adam said. “We just watched a video on deepfakes. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“I don’t have to show you a video,” Christian said. He pulled out his phone and hit a contact. “I can call him.”

He put the phone on speaker. It rang once.

“Yo,” a voice answered, tinny but unmistakably Californian. “What’s up, man? You on your way?”

“Yeah,” Christian said. “I’m rolling out soon. Mind if I bring one more person?”

“That’s cool,” Darian said. “The more the merrier. Just don’t bring anyone who’s gonna tag my walls, all right?”

Christian grinned. “No problem. See you in a bit.”

He hung up and slid the phone back into his pocket with a flourish. “Well?” he said. “Still think I’m lying?”

Adam and Julia exchanged a look.

“Okay,” Adam admitted. “That was… impressive.”

“So?” Christian said, looking at Julia. “You coming to Darian’s party or what? I’m serious this time.”

“I think,” Julia said slowly, “I’m going to lay low tonight. I’ve had enough drama for one week.”

Christian put a hand over his heart. “Turned down twice in one day,” he said. “Ouch. All right. Offer stands. You change your mind, text me.”

He sauntered off toward the parking lot, whistling.

Julia squeezed Adam’s hand. “You know,” she said, “if you ever decide to prank anyone again—legally, harmlessly—you’re going to have to work really hard to top this.”

“I think I’ll retire for real this time,” Adam said. “Being framed is exhausting.”

They walked toward the sidewalk, the late-afternoon sun slanting over the palm trees lining the street, kids spilling out into cars and buses, life at a Southern California high school resettling into its regular rhythm.

Behind them, in the computer lab, a boy sat alone in the glow of monitors, facing the consequences of his choices. In an office upstairs, a principal stared at a picture of his ruined car and thought about how easily technology could twist what people thought they saw.

And in the parking lot, a faint ghost of pink paint clung to the pavement where the Tesla had been, a reminder that in a world full of filters and edits and manufactured realities, the truth has a way of clawing its way back into the light—even if it has to fight through pixels, lies, and one very stubborn phrase:

You’re barking up the wrong tree.