Chapter 6: Scandal and Showdown

As I prepared clarification materials, online opinion shifted again—I was stabbed in the back.

Million-follower account ‘King Cole’ posted a video.

He claimed to be my high school classmate, said I was always an outsider, mimicked girls’ voices, and brought up a long-buried ‘school incident.’

He spun the story to make himself look like the hero, me the villain.

In high school, I wasn’t tall, looked thin and delicate, so boys joked I was a girl, but girls liked me.

I heard playing basketball helps you grow taller, so every Friday after school I played ball.

I was terrible, but I kept at it. The coach used to joke I was the team’s good luck charm.

Once, the school bully stopped me: “Heard you can imitate girls’ voices, let’s hear it.”

I dodged, but a buzz-cut blocked my way.

“Big Mike wants you to do it, that’s giving you face!”

“I can’t!” I refused.

Other lackeys surrounded me, and I was soon pinned to the ground, my face scraping against the floor.

“If you tell the teacher, just try.” They threatened.

Try? I did.

Monday morning, I stood below the podium, the tall boy and others on stage reading apologies.

They stumbled over the words, their voices flat. I kept my head down, wishing I could disappear.

“Thanks to Tyler Reed for giving us an unforgettable lesson. We’ll remember him and this lesson. Hope other students learn from us…”

Their repentance sounded more like a threat, and it was.

The whole school knew it was for show.

Their revenge was swift and fierce.

Half a month later, the school forum posted an audio link, big red title: ‘Late-night scandal, explicit audio, revealing the truth behind Mike and others’ punishment.’

My stomach dropped when I saw my name in the title.

Everyone knew I could do fake female voices, the audio named me, threatened me, then there was a segment of female moaning.

I’d never recorded anything like that, but facts didn’t matter.

Everyone naturally assumed the female voice was mine. I posted clarifications, but few believed.

Rumors spread like wildfire. My inbox was flooded with hate.

Compared to the real truth, people prefer the truth they believe.

The ‘bed moaning incident’ was dug up, online condemnation grew, and I was labeled ‘cross-dresser,’ ‘ventriloquist,’ ‘lunatic,’ and other tags.

Some of the messages were so cruel, I had to turn off notifications.

Many thought I insulted women, some @’d Streamly to permanently ban me.

The mob mentality was in full force.

Worse, young people in town learned about it online, word spread, soon everyone knew.

It felt like I couldn’t go anywhere without being stared at.

Aunts and uncles all came to question me, giving me guilty looks and concluding: The kid’s gone astray.

Even the church ladies at Maple Heights Baptist gave me the side-eye at Sunday service.

The town councilman scolded me for disgracing Maple Heights.

He cornered me at the grocery store, voice low and stern, telling me the mayor was disappointed.

On the street, mothers pulled their kids aside, whispering, “Stay away from that person.”

I heard the whispers, saw the way people crossed the street to avoid me.

My parents, shamed by relatives and friends, looked at me with regret, as if saying, “Why did we ever agree to your nonsense? It’s better if the oranges rot than this.”

Mom stopped talking to neighbors. Dad just worked longer hours, his shoulders hunched.

I felt like I was back in the dark days of high school, everyone saying: “Look! That’s Tyler Reed, the freak.”

The weight of their stares pressed down on me. I wanted to disappear.

Just then, Autumn called.

Her voice was steady, cutting through the noise in my head.

“Tyler, I just posted a video supporting you. How’s your evidence gathering?”

I was jolted, opened Streamly, and saw Autumn’s support video.

It was posted from her private account, clarifying that my ‘wardrobe malfunction’ was an accident.

She laid out the facts, calm and clear. Her words were like a lifeline.

As my high school classmate, she vouched for my character, believed there would be a reversal, and urged everyone to wait.

I was moved. When everyone condemned me, someone stood up without hesitation to support me.

I felt a lump in my throat. I’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone in my corner.

I joked, “Is this a big shot spoiling her little boyfriend?”

She replied, “Still joking, seems you’re in good spirits.”

Her laugh was soft, but it made me feel lighter.

It’s not that I don’t care about others’ opinions, but I know, instead of suffering silently, I should clear my name. But I couldn’t tell Autumn that, didn’t want her to worry.

I swallowed my pride, changing the subject.

So I changed the subject, “Why ask me to pretend to be your boyfriend? Surely you have other choices?”

Silence, then she said, “After this is over, I’ll tell you.”

Her voice was quieter, almost vulnerable.

I watched the videos repeatedly and found two key points:

First, who’s responsible for the bad oranges?

Second, my alleged insult to women.

The first is easy—I have surveillance of packing, just post it online and let shipping and the buyer argue.

I clipped the footage, added timestamps, and posted it everywhere I could.

But the second is serious. In this era of gender equality, insulting women is a grave charge. Mishandling it could mean permanent ban.

I paced my room, rehearsing what I’d say if I got the chance.

While I was busy collecting evidence, Sebastian posted another video, targeting Autumn.

He accused Autumn of improper dealings with me, demanded Streamly investigate her, and have someone else manage the ‘Civic Harmony’ account.

The nerve of that guy. He’d do anything for clout.

So that was his real goal.

With a sword hanging over me, I had to remove it.

“8 PM tonight, live stream face-off, come if you disagree. Trash! @King Cole, @BigSpenderUSA, @FruitFan69”

I pinned the video, so anyone following the incident would see it.

My hands shook as I hit ‘go live,’ but I was ready.