Thirty-seven days have passed since the Q-tip incident.

Homecoming. September 22nd. The football team scores, and within a few seconds, the entire student section is infected with enthusiasm. I watch as I disappear into the sea of chaos. The place is lurking with crime waiting to happen…but I’m there too.

The concession stand is no better; I await as the line stretches for eternity for some peanut M&M’s. It was there where I met him—Jamal, an 8th grader from Center Hill Middle School. We chat the entire way up until we reach the register. I grow fond of him, and we exchange numbers. I see potential—potential to save this school.

Back on the field, I find myself in a losing battle against the weight of my eyelids. I force myself to keep watch. I have to try. These nights all roll together in a rush behind the mask.

I feel the emergence of my partner as he awakes me from my slumber. The years of nocturnal nights have taken a toll on me. News of a crime scene revives me as we disperse our way through the sea of madness.

I examine the scene thoroughly. A newly purchased cotton candy lid from the concessions stood there, staring at me with a blank expression as if teasing me who had done it.

We set up a perimeter, and everyone in the area is automatically a suspect. The only problem was nobody had yet to be seen on this side of the field, except for Lynelda Jones. CHHS’s Biology teacher and dance sponsor is the nearest person to the crime scene. She claims she’s been with the dance team the entire time and had yet to get concessions.

We let her off the hook; although intrigued by the case, Jones helps us interrogate the dance and cheer team.

No one bites from the pep squad, narrowing it down to the journalism department— Mustang TV and Pony Express.

This led to nowhere, unfortunately since none of the newsies bought cotton candy. My partner and I decide to take a break and head to the stands.

I slump in defeat, trying to make sense of my notes. It doesn’t add up.

The only people allowed on the field were Pony Express, MTV, cheer, dance, and band. Yet, everybody was innocent.

Just as I was about to give up the mantle, I notice Jamal, and in the corner of my eye, in his hands was a tub of cotton candy.

I stare in horror as the little one who I was investing in turned out to be the culprit. He attempts to declare his innocence, but the pieces start adding up.

Jamal had been behind everything since the start.