I Saved My Brother But Was Blamed

Riley Walker gritted her teeth against the sharp pain ripping through her body as she forced herself up from the floor. No matter how many times she tried to pull off that move, she just couldn’t get it right, and it was driving her crazy. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her mind somewhere else entirely.

On election day, Cleo was in the dressing room, showering the dance club members with her stash of makeup. “My mom went totally overboard with all this,” she said, flashing a grin and waving at the spread. “Help yourselves to whatever you want.”

“Wow, Cleo, you’re so generous! These are all high-end brands—super pricey,” one of the girls gushed.

“Yeah, and this lipstick? Limited edition, right?” another chimed in.

Under the wave of compliments, Cleo soaked up the attention, keeping her smile perfectly modest. Acting all considerate, she added, “My sister has worked so hard for that class president spot. Make sure you vote for her, okay?”

“We can’t stand her!” someone blurted out with a sneer.

The crowd jumped right on that. “Seriously, what makes her think she could be class president? I’m not having it!”

“Cleo should be president—she’s born for it!”

“How can someone who doesn’t even click with the club have any right to be president?”

Hearing all that support, a surge of victory rushed through Cleo, but she kept her face straight, playing coy. “Oh, don’t say that. My sister really has put in the effort.”

Riley was slipping pain relief patches into her dance shoes just as the auditorium lights snapped on.

“With the performance now over, it’s time to start voting,” Mr. Smith announced, tapping the mic as he addressed the crowd. Even though the class election was tied to the dance club, the school took it seriously, making sure the whole student body could vote anonymously to keep things fair.

The numbers on the digital screen started to tick up. Cleo could barely hide her smirk, like she’d already locked in the win. But when the final results flashed, her smile slipped. The votes for Riley Walker’s name shot up at a crazy speed.

“No… this can’t be happening!” Cleo whispered, completely thrown. She’d pulled every string she could—how was Riley still getting this much support? Something had to be rigged!

Riley stared at the final tally—368 votes, exactly hitting the two-thirds cutoff. But as the newly elected class president, she barely had time to breathe before a massive problem landed in her lap. Right before their long-awaited competition, word dropped that their team had been yanked from the lineup!

“What do you mean? You’ve gotta be kidding! Why are we only hearing this now?” The club members all fired their questions at Riley at once.

“Is this seriously how you run the club, after we busted our asses for this chance?”

“We’ve been prepping for ages, and now, at the last freaking minute, we’re disqualified?”

“Riley Walker, do you get off on seeing us humiliated?”

“Someone like you has no business being class president. How the hell did you even get those votes?”

“Exactly! Not one of us voted for you anyway!”

Facing their accusations, Riley stood there, at a loss for words. She had zero clue what had gone down. They’d been ready to hit the stage, but just minutes earlier, a staff member told them their spot was scrapped. The huge screen in the auditorium confirmed it.

Seeing Riley say nothing only made the members more pissed. They took her silence as a cop-out.

“I’ll go talk to the organizers,” Riley finally managed to get out.

But as she turned, someone grabbed her by the back of the neck, fingers digging in tight.

A furious face loomed right in front of her, growling, “Don’t think you’re gonna weasel out of this. You actually believe you can just run off?”

Meanwhile, the host bowed deep toward the crowd. “Sorry for the delay. We just received anonymous reports about misconduct by Riley Walker’s team,” he announced. “After looking into it, it checks out—Riley Walker’s team is officially disqualified.”

As the announcement echoed, a ripple of curiosity shot through the audience. What could’ve caused such a sudden axing?

Riley was just as stunned by the heavy accusation. She bolted onto the stage, snatching the mic from the host, her voice tight with panic. “Explain why our spot was pulled! I demand a real reason!”

From the judges’ panel, someone let out a nasty laugh. “You seriously need me to spell it out for you?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong! I deserve a valid explanation!” Riley shot back.

One of the panel members declared, “We have eyewitness testimony that you were handing something to Judge Chapman late at night!”

Hearing that, the clueless audience jumped right to their own conclusions, shouting for Riley to apologize and fess up.

But Riley hadn’t done anything of the sort! Facing those groundless accusations, she refused to back down.

“I never did that! How dare you spread lies about me,” Riley fired back, straining her voice over the crowd’s noise.

“You’re still denying it? Fine, I’ll let everyone see the surveillance footage,” came a chilling reply.

Soon—

The footage popped up, showing Riley handing a thick stack of papers to Judge Chapman, who was sitting on the floor.

The moment the scene played out, the audience’s judgment came crashing down on Riley.

“The nerve to offer something like that—so freaking obvious!”

“Risky move, but kinda genius. If she’d pulled it off, who’d even question it?”

“If she hadn’t been caught, Riley Walker might’ve actually gotten away with it.”

Riley couldn’t wrap her head around how the documents she’d handed to Chapman’s team were now twisted into a bribe.

“It wasn’t like that…” Riley started, but a sharp, metallic taste rose in the back of her throat, making her want to puke.

“Initiate memory trial!” The judge’s gavel slammed down, and Riley’s memory flickered onto the massive screen.

It was dead of night. Rain was pouring buckets outside the venue. Riley didn’t have an umbrella and figured she’d wait out the storm before heading home. So she sat in a corner of the dance studio, fixing up her torn ballet shoes.

“The venue shuts down at eleven!” a security guard barked, flashlight in hand, shooing her away.