Chapter 15 - The Copycat
The new account used the same name.
Same black-and-gold logo.
Same style.
The first post showed Westbridge’s gates.
DID YOU MISS US?
Anna’s hands went cold.
The second post appeared minutes later.
A photograph of Kayla entering school.
REHABILITATION TOUR 2027. PLACE YOUR BETS.
Anna stared.
Kayla was the target.
Ben arrived beside her.
“What the hell?”
More students gathered.
Someone laughed.
Anna turned.
“Don’t.”
The student looked embarrassed.
The third post:
HOW LONG BEFORE THE FOUNTAIN PRINCESS STARTS CRYING AGAIN?
Anna’s jaw tightened.
There it was.
Both sides.
Kayla.
Anna.
The copycat wanted the old conflict alive.
Principal Mercer ordered students back inside.
Phones buzzed through hallways.
This time, Anna did not panic.
She took screenshots.
Saved timestamps.
Reported the account.
Then she did something she never expected.
She went looking for Kayla.
Kayla was in Dr. Shah’s office.
Pale.
Furious.
When Anna entered, she looked up.
“I didn’t do it.”
“I know.”
Kayla stared.
“How?”
“You’d be an idiot.”
Despite everything, Kayla almost smiled.
“I have been one before.”
“Fair.”
Dr. Shah looked between them.
“Anna came voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
Anna sat.
“Who knew the old account password?”
Kayla shook her head.
“Doesn’t matter. That account was deleted.”
“Who had the logo?”
“Mia. Sophie. Me.”
“Sophie?”
“She didn’t start this.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
Good.
No assumptions.
Principal Mercer entered.
“Technology is tracing school-device access.”
Kayla said:
“They could use a personal phone.”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“We investigate.”
Ben arrived at the doorway.
“Can I come in?”
Anna nodded.
He looked at Kayla.
She looked back.
Their first direct contact in months.
Ben said:
“If you didn’t do it, I’ll say that.”
Kayla seemed surprised.
“Thanks.”
“I still don’t like you.”
“I know.”
Progress, Westbridge style.
The copycat posted again that night.
This time about Mia in Chicago.
A photograph from her public social account.
RUNNING AWAY DOESN’T MAKE YOU INNOCENT.
Anna texted Mia.
You seeing this?
Mia replied:
Yes. Not me. I swear.
Anna believed her.
Not blindly.
Because Mia had no logical reason to attack herself.
The account escalated.
Anonymous polls.
Old screenshots.
Insults toward students involved in the original investigation.
Who had access to all those images?
Some were public.
Some came from archived screenshots students had shared widely.
The culprit did not need inside access to Front Gate.
Only obsession.
School IT found no use from managed devices.
The account was operating externally.
Mercer contacted the platform through its safety process due student harassment.
Results would take time.
Then Ben noticed something.
A post included a photograph of the fountain from an unusual angle.
Taken from behind the east hedges.
Ben enlarged it.
“I know this picture.”
Anna frowned.
“How?”
“It’s from my video.”
“No.”
“The video was from the bench.”
“Exactly. Look.”
The still showed Kayla reaching toward Anna.
It was cropped.
But the camera angle matched Ben’s original recording.
Anna’s stomach tightened.
Only a limited number of people had access to that video.
Ben.
His parents.
School investigators.
Kayla’s attorneys.
The disciplinary committee.
Then the leaked copy online.
Of course.
The viral clip.
Someone could have downloaded it.
“That doesn’t narrow anything,” Anna said.
Ben frowned.
“Maybe this does.”
He pointed to the bottom edge.
A timestamp.
The public clip had cropped the timestamp out.
The full original retained it.
Anna stared.
“So whoever made this had the uncut video.”
Ben went pale.
“I only sent that to Mercer.”
School evidence records showed several people had received the full video during Kayla’s disciplinary process.
Among them:
Victoria and Jonathan Harris.
Kayla’s attorney.
Mia’s parents.
Sophie’s parents.
Ben’s parents.
School counsel.
The list was longer than Anna hoped.
Then Kayla whispered:
“My dad.”
Everyone turned.
“What?” Anna asked.
Kayla’s face changed.
“My dad kept everything.”
“Why?”
“He thought the school was treating me unfairly.”
Principal Mercer said:
“Kayla, are you suggesting your father created the account?”
“No.”
She shook her head quickly.
“But his assistant had access to the case files.”
Anna stared.
“Why would his assistant care?”
Kayla looked sick.
“Her son goes here.”
“Who?”
“Ethan Cole.”
Anna knew him.
A junior.
Quiet.
Barely connected to Kayla.
Then Ben remembered.
“Ethan’s brother got suspended last year because of a Front Gate rumor.”
Kayla closed her eyes.
The rumor had accused Ethan’s older brother of cheating.
An investigation cleared him.
But not before he lost a student leadership position.
“Did you post it?” Anna asked Kayla.
Kayla’s voice was almost inaudible.
“Yes.”
The copycat account was attacking everyone involved.
Maybe not to defend Kayla.
Maybe to punish her.
Mercer raised a hand.
“We are not accusing Ethan without evidence.”
Good.
Within forty-eight hours, platform safety data and parental cooperation resolved it.
The account had been created from Ethan’s personal device.
He confessed.
He had copied case files from his mother’s work laptop months earlier when she was helping Jonathan Harris’s attorney organize documents.
His target was Kayla.
Anna and Mia were collateral.
“I wanted her to feel what she did to my brother,” Ethan said.
Principal Mercer answered:
“So you did the same thing.”
Ethan looked down.
That was the tragedy.
Harm reproducing itself while calling itself justice.
Anna submitted no opinion on Ethan’s discipline.
She was tired of being asked to sentence people.
But when she left the office, Kayla was waiting at the far end of the hall.
Their eyes met.
This time, both had been targeted by the same anonymous cruelty.
Neither smiled.
Neither needed to.
May you like
They understood.
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