What was the most insane rumor at your school?

I had this guy in my class who was always trying to be the center of attention. Devon Castellanos was the kind of kid who made every moment about himself, crafting elaborate stories that grew more outrageous with each telling. He'd fake injuries during gym class, clutching his ankle and limping dramatically until Coach Williams threatened to call his parents. During presentations, he'd pretend to faint right in the middle of someone else's speech, causing chaos as Mrs. Peterson rushed over with water. His most famous claim was that his celebrity uncle was visiting for dinner and might stop by the school dance.
One Tuesday morning, Devon wasn't in first period English. His usual seat in the back corner sat empty. Mrs. Peterson called attendance, pausing slightly at his name before marking him absent. Students exchanged glances - Devon never missed an opportunity to perform for a captive audience.
By lunch, his absence had become the topic of hushed conversations. Brianna Wu, who lived two streets over from Devon, approached our table with wide eyes. "I saw an ambulance at his house this morning," she whispered. "It was there for like thirty minutes. My mom saw the paramedics wheeling someone out on a stretcher."
The cafeteria buzzed with speculation. Some kids rolled their eyes, assuming it was another one of Devon's elaborate schemes. Others looked genuinely concerned, wondering if something serious had actually happened to the boy who cried wolf so many times.
During fifth period chemistry, the principal's voice crackled over the intercom: "All students report to the gymnasium immediately for an emergency assembly."
We filed in confused and anxious. Principal Martinez stood at the podium looking uncharacteristically grave. In the front row sat Devon's parents. His mother was clutching tissues in her trembling hands, her face red and puffy from crying. His father had his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.
The sight of them hit me like a punch to the gut. Maybe I'd been too harsh judging Devon all this time. Maybe behind all those desperate attempts for attention was just a kid who needed to feel seen.
Principal Martinez cleared his throat. "We've gathered today because one of our students experienced a serious accident this morning. Devon Castellanos is currently in the hospital receiving medical care, and we're asking for your thoughts and prayers during this difficult time."
His mother let out a sob that echoed through the silent gymnasium. Students started crying immediately, the emotion contagious and overwhelming.
The rumor mill exploded after the assembly. By the time we boarded our buses, Devon had been hit by a drunk driver while walking to school. Both legs were crushed. Some versions claimed he might never walk again.
For the next three weeks, our entire school rallied around Devon with unprecedented unity. Art classes made get-well cards. The student council organized fundraisers - bake sales, car washes, and talent shows. We wore blue ribbons with his name, turning our hallways into a sea of solidarity. The local news even featured our efforts.
Then, exactly three weeks and two days after the assembly, Devon returned to school.
He walked through the front doors that Wednesday morning with a slight limp and a small bandage on his foot. Students gathered around him like he was a returning war hero, eager to hear about his miraculous recovery.
The truth emerged slowly, like air leaking from a punctured balloon. Devon had been helping his elderly neighbor move furniture. While carrying an antique dresser down her front steps, he'd lost his grip and dropped it directly onto his right foot. The result? Two broken toes and a bruised ego.
He'd missed three weeks not because of life-threatening injuries, but because his perpetually anxious mother had convinced herself he was developing complications. She'd dragged him to specialists across three states, seeking multiple opinions from doctors who repeatedly assured her that broken toes, while painful, rarely required emergency intervention.
The "serious accident" that had united our school in grief was Devon stubbing his toes while helping with household chores.