Chapter 4: The Hashtag Bagel Boy

4

I was still in shock when the officers who’d checked the plumbing returned.

Officer Martinez looked at them, waiting.

They shook their heads. "We checked every tank in the building. Nothing unusual."

Another officer jabbed a finger at me, furious. "This kid’s just messing with us."

The students crowding the doorway stared at me like I was nuts.

My roommate Matt grinned, "He’s always been weird—always lost in his own world. Officer, he’s just a big fool."

"Yeah, talking about fingers in bagels and magic toilets—he’s lied so much he’s started believing it himself!" Tyler, another roommate, piped up.

The whole class burst out laughing.

Phones were out everywhere, and I knew by lunch my meltdown would be all over TikTok. The hashtag #BagelBoy was probably trending already. Someone in the back snapped a photo, probably getting ready to blast it on Snapchat or tag me in some embarrassing meme. The laughter grew, bouncing off the bathroom tiles, until it felt like the whole world was in on the joke but me. My cheeks burned, and I had to fight the urge to just disappear through the floor.

Officer Martinez’s face darkened. He cut them off and turned to me. "Chris, true or not, you’re coming with us."

They took me to the police station. Officer Martinez sat across from me, questioning me:

"Tell me, why did you do this?"

I was just as confused. How did things get so out of control?

Was it all just an illusion?

But everything had felt so real.

If it was fake, why could I still taste those bagels in my mouth?

Something had to be wrong.

The sterile police station air felt thick and cold around me. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and the scent of stale coffee drifted from a mug on the desk. Everything felt too bright, too real.

Officer Martinez watched me sit in silence, his brow furrowing deeper. "Chris, don’t be afraid. You made a false report, but you’ve got no prior record. If you cooperate and tell the truth, we’ll go easy on you."

I just wanted out of there, but what I’d said was the truth—as I remembered it.

I knew if I admitted I’d made it all up, I’d probably get out faster. But I couldn’t lie to myself.

"Officer Martinez, everything I said is true. Not a word is a lie. I just don’t know why it turned out like this..."

As I spoke, I couldn’t stop myself from crying.

No one believed me. Not my friends, not the cops—hell, not even me, if I was honest. I’d never felt so invisible and exposed at the same time. The sterile police station air felt thick and cold around me. My voice cracked, tears slipping down my cheeks. I tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming, blurring the officer’s face across the table. My fingers gripped the edge of the chair, knuckles white. For the first time since the prank began, I felt utterly alone.

"Get a psychologist," Officer Martinez ordered.

"I’m not crazy!" I panicked, tried to break free, but couldn’t move. Suddenly, an idea hit me:

"The bagel shop! Yes! Go check it out! There’s no way one person could have so much meat. If someone was made into bagels, I couldn’t have eaten it all. You’ll definitely find something!"

Officer Martinez slammed the table in anger. "Enough! We don’t have time for your games! Why should we check that shop—just because of your prank?"

"If you confess, it’s one thing. If we find out, it’s another. Think about that!"

He turned to leave. Just then, my phone lit up on the table.

Another message from that prankster avatar.

This time, it was a photo of a shirt—chest torn open, covered in blood.

A small caption read: [This is my shirt. It’s just outside the back wall of the bagel shop.]

"That’s Derek’s shirt!" I shouted. My voice rang out in the station, echoing off the linoleum and bulletproof glass. Officer Martinez’s eyes narrowed, but for the first time, he looked uncertain. Officer Martinez stared at the photo, his jaw tight. For the first time, I saw fear flicker in his eyes. Maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t the only one caught in Derek’s game.