My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 192

Chapter 192 Reading The Old Student Rulebook

“What do you mean?” Ryder asked. He kept his hands resting on my waist. The tension in his shoulders remained tight. ‘How do we fight

her with our minds? She holds the photographic proof.

‘She holds a picture of a fake contract,” I replied. I stepped back. The cold air rushed between us. “She used that picture to force me into failing my tests. She wanted the top academic spot. If I take the top spot back, her entire plan falls apart.”

“You handed in ruined test papers this morning, Raisa. Mr. Harrison possesses the biology exam. The math department possesses your

calculus exam. The grades are permanent.”

“Nothing is permanent,” I stated.

I turned away from him. I walked across the bedroom floorboards. My bare feet made zero sound. I reached the corner of the room. My heavy canvas backpack sat slumped against the wall. I dropped to my knees. I unzipped the main compartment. I bypassed the heavy textbooks and the empty folders. I reached deep into the bottom of the bag.

My fingers brushed against a thick, hardbound book.

I pulled it out. The dark blue cover featured the Crestview Prep seal stamped in gold foil.

“The student handbook?” Ryder asked. He walked over and stood behind me. He looked down at the thick volume in my hands. “Every freshman receives one on orientation day. Most kids throw them in the trash.”

“I kept mine,” I said. I ran my hand over the embossed gold seal. “The administration uses this book as a weapon. They use the rules to control the student body. They use the code of conduct to justify their actions. But rules work in two directions. If an institution builds a cage out of bylaws, they always leave a key hidden in the fine print.”

Ryder sank to the floor beside me. He crossed his long legs. His knees brushed against my sweatpants. The damp leather of his jacket smelled like the cold city rain. He looked at the handbook, then looked at my face. The destructive fury in his eyes faded. A sharp, focused

intensity replaced the rage.

He understood the shift in tactics. We stopped acting like victims. We started acting like strategists.

“Show me, Ryder commanded.

I opened the thick book. The spine cracked. The pages smelled like dry dust and old ink. I flipped past the introduction. I skipped the basic campus maps and the dress code requirements. I turned straight to the disciplinary section.

“We need to know what we face,” I explained. I pointed to a block of dense text. “Section Four. Disciplinary Hearings.”

Ryder leaned closer. His warm arm pressed against my shoulder. We read the rules together in the pale light of the desk lamp.

“The board convenes within ten business days of a major infraction,” Ryder read aloud. His deep voice resonated in the quiet room. “The

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Chapter 192 Reading The Old Student Rulebook

student is allowed legal representation. The administration presents the evidence. The board issues a binding vote.”

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“They hold all the power, I noted. I turned the page. “Miller submitted the photograph. The parent committee hates us. They will vote for

expulsion.”

Can we claim extortion? Ryder asked. He pointed to a paragraph near the bottom margin. ‘Section Six covers student-on-student harassment. Blackmail is an expellable offense. If we prove Chloe threatened you, the board must investigate her.”

“We possess zero proof,” I said. The frustration tightened my chest. “Chloe cornered me in the cafeteria. We spoke in person. She never sent a text message. She never wrote a note. It is my word against hers. The board will believe the wealthy cheerleader over the suspended scholarship student.”

Ryder set his jaw. He knew I spoke the truth. The elite protected their own.

“Then we ignore the disciplinary hearing for now,” I decided. I grabbed a chunk of pages and flipped further into the book. “We attack the root of the problem. Chloe blackmailed me because she wanted the Valedictorian title. The title depends entirely on this week’s midterms. If I fix my grades, I strip her of the prize.

“How do you fix a test you already submitted?”

“I find an appeal.”

I scanned the academic policies. The text detailed grading scales, attendance requirements, and late assignments. The language felt dense

and unforgiving.

A teacher’s grade is final.

No retakes permitted on midterm or final examinations.

Extenuating circumstances require medical documentation.

The rules formed a solid brick wall. The administration built the system to prevent students from arguing over low scores. They wanted

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