Deceit

"So Charlie, you're saying that Ohara girl's next story will be about our department?" Ozwell said while tapping the tip of his pen on the table.

"That's my assumption," Charlie said as he stood across the table.

"So, what are you going to do about it?"

"What? Me? This is your ass on the line here, I'm out. I've done enough tail wagging for you. And I don't think what we're doing here is right. Let the paper club say what they want, it's not like people will believe them. "

"What? Need I remind you what is at stake here. This isn't some meager teen drama bullshit, our names are on the line. The only reason you're still in this university is because of me." Ozwell stood up and breathed deeply.

"I have just as much to lose here as you do. So before you come in here getting smart on me, I suggest you take more time conjuring up a plan rather than the idiotic one you just suggested."

"What do you want me to do?" Charlie asked following a moment of silence.

"We can't let a single print of that story get in anyone's hands."

"I don't think making threats against the writer would help us. How about the original manuscript of the story?"

"They would most likely do it again and post it on the internet. No, what we need is to make sure there isn't a trace of that story anywhere and that the club isn't able to release another paper."

"So what? We burn the building down?"

Ozwell looked up as if a light bulb lit up right above him.

"You can't be serious," Charlie said, taking a step back.

"The best time would be during the end of the festival. When everyone gathers around the bonfire in the middle of campus."

"Hold on a minute, we need to really think this through. You really want to burn down a building?"

"Oh heavens no! Well, not me…" Ozwell trailed off.

"You have to be crazy if you think I'm burning down a building filled with people for you!"

"Pipe down, I told you there won't be anyone in there by the time the bonfire is lit."

"This is crazy. You're crazy!"

"I have the regional meet to attend this week with the art committee. I'm leaving all this to you." Ozwell said, turning to the window behind his desk.

"The department has a storage facility behind the main building. Look for equipment there, get the keys on my table."

"What? You really think I'm going through with this messed-up plan of yours?" Charlie slammed his fist on the table.

"How is your father? Your mother?"

Charlie froze, his eyes grew wider.

"I remember when they came here, begging me to give you a scholarship because they couldn't support your education. Imagine their surprise when they find out the artist prodigy that is their son is actually nothing but a miserable jock lazing about campus."

"Shut up."

"Do you have what it takes to tell your parents that their son was lying to them the whole time? All to live it up in a prestigious university with his rich friends?"

"I said SHUT UP!" Charlie slammed the table again. He slowly lowered his forehead onto his fist.

"I expect that we no longer have any second thoughts on the matter?" Ozwell asked as he crept up to Charlie's side.

He replied with a reluctant nod.

"Good, glad that's sorted out," Ozwell said, grabbing his coat from the rack by the door.

"Make sure to lock up, here and the warehouse after you get what you need."

Ozwell left. Charlie struggled to move an inch from the table, wondering how he got himself into this mess. He proceeded to the warehouse and took several flammable materials. He then stored them close to the paper club building where no one could see them. Charlie did not think to go back to his friends and decided to go back home early.

He arrived home. There was an elderly but lively woman tending a small store. Charlie then walked upright in front of her.

"Hm? Is that my Charlie? You know you can't sneak up on me anymore because of how big you've gotten."

"Nice to be home, Mom."

"I'll get dinner ready then."

Charlie entered the house and sat on the living room floor by a small table. He opened the TV then checked on the room nearby where a man was asleep, wheezing, with the occasional cough. He closed the door before his mother came back with two bowls of soup.

"How's he been doing?"

"Oh same old father of yours, he hasn't spoken much but earlier I think he wanted me to open the door a little bit so he could watch TV with me."

"Really? That's great."

They watched a game show playing on TV as they ate their dinner. Charlie's mother would laugh when the host made sly remarks at the contestants and the audience. Charlie himself was in deep thought, staring at his untouched bowl.

"Hey, Mom. There's… This thing I've been wanting to tell you."

"Oh! Before you say that, I went and got you a little something!"

His mother stumbled to get up, she reached for a nearby drawer and opened it. There she took out a box.

"Mom, what's this?" Charlie said as he opened the box handed to him.

"I know you said we should be saving money, but Professor Ozwell came by the other day. He said you've been doing great with your artworks, and that you'll soon be recognized as one of the best in the country! So I scrounged up some pocket change and got you a little something."

Charlie stared at the contents. He pulled out a long white apron and a very expensive-looking paintbrush. The apron itself was of good quality and had the letters "C.V." Charlie's initials, on it.

"Mom… I—"

"No buts mister, did you know how long it took for me to stitch that with my eyes?" She laughingly said.

Charlie couldn't help but let the tears flow but held back enough for it not to seem obvious.

"So what's that thing you wanted to tell me about?"

"No, it's nothing. Thanks, Mom, I… I'll make you guys proud, I promise you."

"Well alrighty then! I'm pretty tired from tending the shop all day so I'll probably head to bed. I trust you'll do the dishes?"

"Of course, Mom. Wouldn't want you to get more cuts on your hands."

"I may be blind, but I think I'd know when poking myself with sharp things."

Charlie tended to the table as his mother motioned towards the bedroom with his father.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"You know you can tell me anything and I won't get mad, right?"

"..."

"Of course I do! Now you go and get some rest!"

She gave him a smile before entering the bedroom.