Part 3She Planned a Prank Heist, I Called 911

Mom's voice immediately turned anxious.

"Why would you call the police? Why get involved in other people's kids' business? What if their parents come after us—"

"Mom, if I don't report it and something happens, I'll be the first person held responsible. My name is the first on the participant list. In the plan, I'm listed as the team leader."

Silence stretched on the other line before Mom finally said, "Just make sure you protect yourself."

That afternoon, I went to the police station alone. The reporting officer, Officer Foster, looked to be in his 40s. By the time I finished explaining everything, his brows furrowed deeply.

"22 incoming college students are planning to enter a bank wearing masks and carrying fake guns?"

"Yes. This is their plan," I said as I handed over the PDF file and screenshots.

Officer Foster flipped through the pages, his frown deepening.

I placed several more screenshots of the suspicious accounts on his desk.

"These people are asking about the side entrance, the vault's location, and the number of participants. One of them asked whether we'd enter through the front or side entrance. Another asked how far the teller counters were from the vault. Normal spectators just joining in on the fun won't ask questions like that."

The way he looked at me changed. He asked, "Why did you notice all this?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I couldn't tell him the truth. I couldn't tell him that I'd already drowned in a river once in my last life. And I certainly couldn't tell him what I'd learned after my death.

On the same day, a real armed robbery had taken place at the exact same bank branch. Two gunmen had been shot dead on the scene. One hostage had died, and three others had been injured. The image shown on the news featured the exact same bank entrance Natalie had put in her PDF file.

"I'm just being cautious."

Officer Foster looked at me for a long while before finally saying, "Alright. It's good to be cautious."

He stood up. "Wait here. I'll direct this case to the Criminal Investigation Department."

Then, he took my formal statement.

"We'll handle surveillance and deployment from here. Don't confront them. Take care of yourself. Stay away from the bank."

I nodded.

After leaving the police station, I went to a copy shop and printed two copies of my statement.

"I, Ethan Brooks, explicitly oppose and refuse to participate in any activity organized by Natalie Simmons at or around an operating bank location. Any attendance or possession of related props under my name is a misuse of my identity."

I signed my name, then pressed my fingerprint. I kept one copy at home, and the other in my backpack.

That evening, my phone blew up with calls from parents.

"Ethan, did you report everyone to Mr. Zeller?"

"Are you out of your mind? Your classmates just got their college acceptance letters, and now you're trying to get them in trouble?"

"If my kid ends up with a criminal record and can't go to college, are you going to take responsibility?"

Natalie's mother was the loudest of them all.

"Ethan, I'm warning you—if Natalie gets questioned because of your report, your family will be hearing from me first."

I started recording the call.

"Mrs. Simmons, Natalie wrote the plan herself. Her name is on the PDF file. I simply let Mr. Zeller know about it."

"So what if she wrote it? It's not a real robbery! You're the real culprit by reporting the matter."

"If it's not a real robbery, what are you so worried about?"

She choked on her words. Then, before hanging up, she spat, "Just you wait."

Mr. Zeller also posted an announcement in the class notice group.

"Summer activities have been organized collectively. Involved students are encouraged to consider the bigger picture and avoid creating unnecessary tension. Student leaders, especially, should take the lead in maintaining class unity."

Ryan forwarded the message to me and said, "See? Even Mr. Zeller is being reasonable. Don't make the whole class turn against you."

That evening, he waited for me outside my apartment building.

"I know you're scared. On Friday, you don't have to say anything. You don't have to be on camera either. I'll stand in front of you. The livestream will only show you for a second.

"Natalie is proud, and she spent a long time preparing for this. When you opposed her in front of everyone, she felt humiliated. Just do me a favor, okay?"

In my previous life, I would've caved because I always believed old friendships carried weight—enough weight to outweigh principle.

But after dying once, I learned that some friendships were just ropes others could use to tie me down.

I said firmly, "I won't go. And no one else can make that decision for me."

The smile on Ryan's face slowly disappeared. "Ethan, you're making things sound worse than they are."

"I'm just clearly stating my boundaries."

"Boundaries?" He let out a low laugh. "You're talking about boundaries with me?"

I turned to leave. But before I could walk away, he slipped a piece of paper into the gap beneath my front door. On it was written, "Friday, 2:00 pm, Middleton Street Branch. If you don't come, the whole class will gather at your house."

Ryan said, "Go ahead and try not to come."

I bent down and picked up the note, took a photo, then sent it to Officer Foster.

Officer Foster replied with two words. "Keep it."