Thursday, June 21

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  N/A

  Dust filled the air.

  The floor looked half-disassembled—splintered wood, broken chips everywhere—and a red mist drifted through the room like smoke with intent. My brows lowered instinctively. Then my eyes dropped.

  September was on the ground.

  Blood poured from her knees.

  I recognized the place instantly.

  “September!” I yelped, sprinting to her, my heart hammering with panic.

  She threw a trembling hand up—fingers soaked red. “Go away,” she pleaded. “Please—go away, or she’ll kill you.”

  Her eyes were watery. Her face tightened with pain every few seconds. Tears slipped out of mine before I even noticed them.

  “No, no, no—wait.” I shook my head fast. “I’ll carry you. I’ll carry—”

  The wall of the library exploded.

  Fire lunged inside.

  I dove forward and covered September with my arms. Wood slammed into my back. Heat seared across my skin. The pain felt… mild—either because my Perk was kicking in, or because adrenaline had taken the steering wheel. Probably both.

  Then, through the dust, a figure stepped into view.

  Female.

  Standing inside a glowing aura like the flames were bowing around her. Dark red eyes. Bright fingertips. Veins pulsing with cosmic energy.

  I stared, frozen.

  A smile slid across her face. Her head tilted—just slightly—like she was curious how I’d die.

  And without a word—

  She fired.

  A blast of fire screamed toward me—

  —and I woke up screaming, shaking, drenched in sweat.

  My chest heaved as I snapped my eyes to the clock.

  6:15.

  I dragged my hands down my face like I could wipe the stress off skin. It didn’t work. It never worked.

  What could I even do?

  I sank back into the bed, but I was too terrified to close my eyes.

  18:05

  Tactical Bomb Diffusion was boring.

  But that wasn’t why my eyelids kept drooping.

  My body felt like it was in a civil war against itself—half my brain fighting the other half. I was exhausted, and my arms were sore for no reason, like I’d been lifting weights in my sleep.

  Rest sounded incredible.

  Seeing Mari for the eighty-eighth time did not.

  Mr. Chiffon kept talking in whatever language he spoke that everyone somehow understood. My laptop screen kept getting brighter no matter how many times I turned the brightness down. And the room… the room would shift sometimes—like the world tilted for half a second just to make my brain hurt more.

  I blinked hard. Then again.

  Mr. Chiffon finally capped his marker and stepped away from the board.

  “There’s an assignment on VeliCampus,” he announced. “Due tomorrow. If you have to, you may stay here overnight to finish it.” He smiled like that amused him. “It shouldn’t be hard… but then again, I seem to overestimate your IQ.”

  The class chuckled.

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  “Prove me wrong,” he said.

  Most students pulled out their computers and started the assignment.

  Except Jamal.

  He stood up.

  Walked straight toward me.

  I prayed—please let him be heading to someone else—but he stopped right in front of my desk, eyes lowered in that lazy, cruel kind of mischief.

  He huffed. “Alright. What did you tell Principal Renner?”

  I groaned. “Huh?”

  “After what happened at the training center,” he grumbled, “security is guarding that place now. Locking the doors as soon as class starts.” His eyes narrowed. “Didn’t September take you to the principal’s office like she was your mother?”

  “To a degree,” I muttered.

  “So after a few days, I connected the dots.” Jamal leaned closer. “You snitched. What did you tell her?”

  I stared at him. “Number one, you’re dumb. Number two, you’re dumb. Number three, why would I tell you what I told her if you’re already convinced I snitched?” I hissed. “You answered your own question.”

  His fist slammed down on my hand.

  Pain shot up my arm so fast I squealed.

  I clutched my hand to my chest, trying to breathe through it—while Jamal laughed like he’d just done something hilarious.

  “Yeah,” he said, voice low. “Without your special cheat code—your Perk—you’re nothing against me.” He leaned in. “I own you. I can do with you as I wish.”

  “Dawg… what?” the classmate beside me muttered.

  Jamal flicked one stare at him.

  The guy’s eyes glued to his screen instantly.

  Jamal turned back to me. “Try something funny like that again,” he whispered. “Try it.”

  “Will do,” I winced, flexing my fingers, silently checking if I still had bones.

  20:00

  Students poured out of the building in waves, disappearing into portals that swallowed them like trapdoors. It wasn’t as bad as the Magnifico moshpit, but the rule still applied:

  First out or last out.

  Anything in between was chaos.

  I sat on the stairs, off to the side so I wouldn’t block anyone. Below, near the entrance, I spotted September and Malachi.

  Malachi must’ve been telling something Oscar-worthy, because September was laughing harder than I’d seen in a while—full-body laughter, like she wasn’t carrying injuries and war memories in her legs.

  I smiled.

  Then I frowned.

  Two voices called my name from behind me.

  I turned to see Tisiah and Nikki approaching. Nikki stood in front. Tisiah dropped onto the step beside me.

  “Waiting?” Tisiah asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  Even after I answered, I could feel his eyes on me—heat and suspicion. I glanced at him, then immediately looked away.

  It felt like being onstage.

  “Connor, scoot over,” Nikki said—polite, which was how I knew something was wrong.

  I shifted right and she sat beside me.

  “What’s going on?” Nikki asked. Her hands gripped my forearm. “You look horrible.”

  “Tired,” I said. “Just one of them days, y’know.”

  “Yeah,” she replied, not buying it, “but you’ve had multiple ‘them days’ in a row. That’s an issue.” Her eyes narrowed. “You been staying up late since September?”

  “What?” Tisiah said, brows furrowing. “What kind of conclusion is that?”

  “No,” I sighed. “I just… it’s been hard to sleep.”

  Nikki’s face softened. “Insomnia does hurt. It does hurt.”

  “No—no,” I said, shaking my head, then stopping halfway. “Maybe… maybe it is.”

  “Don’t worry,” Tisiah said with a chuckle. “There are medications for that. Knock you out like a baby.”

  “Tisiah used to take them,” Nikki added, laughing. “They worked a little too well. It took me throwing a toaster at him to wake him up.”

  “Hop off, would you?” Tisiah hissed. Then his tone shifted. “Anyways… you noticed guards blocking the training center now?”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “I almost got my hand turned into paste for that.”

  Nikki froze.

  Then she started turning into a tomato—at least that’s what it looked like.

  Tisiah lifted both hands quickly. “He never said it was Jamal.”

  “It was Jamal,” Nikki said, flat.

  Tisiah sighed, eyes closing like he was already tired of tomorrow.

  Nikki rubbed her chin with vigor. “He left long ago, didn’t he.”

  Tisiah and I nodded.

  “I’ll wait until camp,” Nikki said, voice bright in the most dangerous way. “There are multiple ways I can cause havoc to whatever cabin he’s gonna stink up.”

  Tisiah whimpered. “Exactly how?”

  Nikki smiled. “I can create things out of thin air. What can’t I do?”

  Then she threw an arm around my neck, pressing into my shoulder like she was sealing a pact. “I got you. Maybe not Tisiah—but I do.”

  “No, no, no,” Tisiah scolded. “Just because I don’t want us to become Jamal’s next tube of toothpaste doesn’t mean I don’t care about Connor.”

  I let out a tired chuckle. “Don’t mind her—she’s just being extra.” I glanced at Nikki. “Thanks, though.”

  Nikki smiled, eyes scanning me like she was checking damage. “Extra…?” she murmured. “Whatever you say.”

  Tisiah checked his watch. “Alright. Let’s go. Otherwise we get locked in.”

  “We do?” Nikki and I asked at the same time.

  “I don’t know,” Tisiah admitted with a laugh. “I always kind of assumed that. We never stayed long enough to—”

  Two portals snapped open beneath them.

  Nikki dropped first.

  Tisiah followed.

  I flinched so hard my shoulders jumped.

  And then—less than fifteen seconds later—a portal yawned open under me too, and I fell through.

  I landed back in my neighborhood.

  Night had settled in. Streetlights cast white pools on the road like spotlights—except the “audience” was locked behind closed curtains and sleeping walls. I took a deep breath and started walking home.

  My eyes fought to stay open.

  My body begged for sleep.

  But my heart beat too fast, and dread wrapped around me like invisible arms. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t have to be. Its whisper was dry and cold—abstract, but somehow tangible.

  “What’s wrong, Connor?” it asked, close to my ear. “Guilt finally at your doorstep?”

  I walked faster.

  Almost ran.

  But the fear kept clinging, breathing down my neck like it had lungs.

  I scrambled up my porch steps and knocked hard, breaths turning loud and uneven.

  The door swung open.

  Mom’s face—familiar, sleepy—cut through the voice like a blade. Her hair was fuzzy. Her eyes looked almost worse than mine. Her robe hung loose, like the entire neighborhood could see she’d been dragged out of sleep.

  “Didn’t realize I napped this long,” she muttered. Then she squinted at me. “Somethin’ wrong with you?”

  I shook my head, slipped past her, and rushed to my room.

  But I couldn’t turn off the light.

  Couldn’t close my eyes.

  I sat on the bed, arms wrapped around myself, shivering. My eyes were dry from fatigue—yet my body still trembled with fear.

  My room didn’t feel like home anymore.