My Roommates Vanished, and I'm the Prime Suspect

My roommates have booked booth seats at the New Year Countdown Light Show at the price of five thousand dollars per ticket. Soon, they begin urging me to transfer them my share of the payment on the group chat.

I just send them a screenshot of the remaining balance in my bank account. "You guys have fun. I'm still saving up for my college tuition fees."

Everyone just spams me with laughing messages instead. One of my roommates, Zane Lawson, even uploads a screenshot of our conversation to his social media feed together with a caption that says, "The first step of ascending to the next tier in social hierarchy is to stay away from party poopers like this."

But as soon as 12:00 am is over, my roommates send me a photo of the light show.

"It's such a shame that you aren't here."

I'm still confused by the photo when I receive a phone call from the counselor, who sounds very anxious over the phone.

"Did you buy tickets for your roommates to the light show? The organizers claimed that they never checked in at the entrance! Now, they've gone missing!"

When I heard the school counselor's words, my mind went completely blank. I couldn't make sense of what I just heard.

"Bradley Graham, did you hear what I said? The organizers looked into it. The ticket reservation was made under your name and student ID, but the tickets were issued digitally, and there is no record of the tickets ever being verified.

"In other words, they did not enter the event at all. Right now, all three of their phones are switched off. Their family members are sick with worry! Be honest with me—what in the world is going on with this?"

The ticket reservation was under my name? When did I ever book a five-thousand-dollar New Year's Eve booth seat?

I even had to plan out every single cent for my meal expenses next month. How could I possibly do something so absurd? Plus, my roommates had just sent photos to me a moment ago. How could they just go missing out of the blue?

A chill ran down from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. As I held onto my phone, my hands began to shake uncontrollably.

"I didn't, Ms. Watts. I really didn't book any tickets!" I answered, my voice trembling slightly because of fear.

"I'm still in the library, where I have been studying all night. I have no idea where they've gone."

"Alright, calm down, and don't be afraid."

The school counselor, Taylor Watts, softened her tone slightly while still carrying a firm sense of seriousness.

"I want you to return to your dormitory immediately. The parents of Zane Lawson and the others are rushing over from out of town, and the school's administrators are taking this very seriously too. We need your cooperation to clear up exactly what happened."

After ending the call, I sat frozen on the hard, wooden chair in the library. As the warm lighting around me shone on the other students who were working hard on their studies, it was as if I were looking at a scene from a different world.

An invisible, hard screen separated me from the rest of them.

I was being framed. This thought came at me like a bolt of lightning, zapping through the confusion and bewilderment in my mind.

My roommates had gone missing, yet they had booked those expensive entrance tickets under my name. This whole thing was a setup, with every step being linked to one another and filled with malice.

What were they plotting?

If they showed up safe and sound, this would, at most, end up being a prank. I wouldn't be able to explain myself, and my schoolmates and Ms. Watts would see me as a vain and lying freak.

But now, my roommates have disappeared. I—a roommate who did not attend the event after booking the tickets and as someone with a history of bad blood with them—had been turned into the prime suspect instantly.

I forced myself to calm down. My thoughts raced. I got to my feet slowly, packed up my books, then tottered my way to the dormitory building.

The cold winter air whipped across my face, sharp as a blade. I clutched tightly onto the straps of my backpack, my fingernails digging deep into the canvas.

I had to remain calm. I had not done anything, so why should I be afraid?

When I pushed open the door to Room 412 at the dormitory, the stifling air within almost suffocated me.

Ms. Watts stood right in the middle of the dormitory room with a grim expression. Two school administrators stood next to her, whispering with one another with serious looks on their faces.

It was as if the entire dormitory had been placed on silent mode. Only the occasional boom of fireworks outside the window from New Year celebrations could be heard. How ironic.

My bed was perfectly made. Across from my bed were three beds belonging to Zane, Timothy Bass, and Howard Grant. Their beds remained exactly as they had left them.

A lavish cigar box still sat out on Zane's desk, a limited edition coat that was clearly worth a fortune was still draped over Timothy's chair, and a branded watch, which Howard didn't have time to put on, was left sitting in a corner of his desk.

It appeared as if they were in a rush to head out for an appointment.

"Bradley, you're here."

Ms. Watts waved at me right away when she noticed me. The school administrators turned their attention toward me as well, their gazes full of scrutiny and curiosity.

I walked over and greeted softly, "Hello. I'm back, Ms. Watts."