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uses terrorism in the pursuit of political aims. That is, something Amjad definitely is not. The word makes my spine stiffen. It isn’t the first time someone’s thrown that insult around in this store, and Amjad always shrugs it off.
    This time, though, he looks to me with his eyebrows raised. “I believe the answer to your question… Does that count?”
    “It c-counts,” I agree solemnly. “How do you not let it bother you?”
    He shrugs and picks up the two six-packs. “I pity them.”
    “What? Why?”
    “Ignorance is a great weakness. To not try to learn truths and allow judgmental stereotypes cloud your mind…” He opens the fridge, places the beer back in, and lets it swing shut while turning to me. “Why would you not pity someone so foolish?”
    Never thought of it that way. But then again, does that advice really apply to me? I’m being accused of rape, something any guy at the party could have done. Not being a terrorist while I work at my small business that I built practically from the ground up all by myself.
    On his way back up front, Amjad pats me on the back. “Whatever bothers you, Victor, let it roll off the shoulders. You’re a good boy. No worries.”
    I smile at him while wondering why my own mother doesn’t agree.

Chapter Five
    The whispers about what happened to Callie have started.
    I hear them only because I’ve been listening for them, and because Aaron stops by our table at lunch to lean over and talk about it with Brett as though I’m not there.
    “Did you hear about Callie?”
    Brett hesitates, glancing at me while I pick apart my bologna sandwich. “Yeah, I heard.”
    “The cops came to my house. My brother’s in such deep shit for throwing that party and letting in underage drinkers.”
    I feel a frown pulling at my face. With what happened to Callie, being caught drinking at a dumb party would be the least of my concerns.
    Brett scoots over, nudging me in the process, to make room for Aaron to sit beside him. “What did the police say? Like, do they have any leads or anything?”
    Aaron sits with enough force to make the cafeteria bench rattle. “Yeah, but they wouldn’t tell me who. It was a group of drunk people… Had to be from the college, though; none of the friends I invited would do something like that. Though, honestly, it isn’t that big a surprise something like this happened.”
    “Not cool,” Brett warns. Aaron holds up his hands.
    “Just calling it like I see it, man.” He leans forward to peer around Brett. “What about you, Vicky? They come to question you, too?”
    An eerie, icy-veined stillness takes me over. I don’t look at him. He said he didn’t know who was under suspicion, but does he really? “Th-they came to talk to me,” I mutter. “I d-didn’t see anything.” I think it’s only a matter of time before word gets out that I’m the one suspected. I’m surprised Autumn hasn’t told everyone yet.
    From the corner of my eye, I see Aaron watching me with a look so intense it makes me want to slide under the table. “Well,” he says, “it’s pretty bizarre. If I find out who did it, I’m gonna cave his skull in.”
    Aaron then goes off on a tangent with Brett, talking about school and sports, so I tune them out. I scan the cafeteria for Autumn, wondering if she told Callie that I spoke to her. Probably not, and I don’t really blame her. But…maybe I should find her again, just to ask how Callie is doing.
    During my office assistant period the next day, I pull up Autumn’s name in the computer to see her schedule.
    Autumn Dixon
    Semester 2 Class Schedule
    Period 01 - Computers II (L. Smith)
    Period 02 - German II (T. Ulrich)
    Period 03 - American History (M. Schwartz)
    Period 04 - Creative Writing (P. Zinfandel)
    Mostly electives. She’s a senior, like me, so she’s already gotten her required classes for graduating out of the way. No wonder I’ve never had a class with her. She was probably in Calculus II while I was