The Perfect Classroom Crime: How My Teacher Framed Me

I never expected my Tuesday class to turn into a crime scene. After lunch, the room fell silent when an unholy stench declared war on our senses. Pens dropped. Children gasped. Even the gecko fled. I played detective. Musa, Emeka—innocent. Then I saw our teacher’s calm smile. He stood, adjusted his glasses, and pointed at me. In an instant, I became the culprit. No trial. No proof. Just judgment. My crush held the cane. I braced for the blow as everyone watched in silence. They say you never suspect authority. But I did. And I still remember every detail of the perfect crime he committed.

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