The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Around me, students scrambled to their feet, trays clattering as they hurried back to their classes. I slung my backpack over one shoulder and nudged Mike's elbow.
"Let's go," I said. "I don't want to be late for two classes in one day."
Mike groaned, shoving the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth. "Relax, dude. It's not like they'll kick us out for being a few minutes late." He grinned, wiping his mouth with his backhand.
Wait—didn't he say something similar this morning?
"Besides, I need to mentally prepare myself to talk to that redhead chick in my next class." He waggled his eyebrows. You know, the one who looks like she's plotting world domination?"
I rolled my eyes. "You mean the one you're too scared to talk to?"
Mike feigned offense, clutching his chest like I'd stabbed him. "Scared? Me? Nah, I'm just... strategizing. It's called having game, Ethan. You should try it sometime."
I smirked but didn't respond. As we walked down the hallway, the nagging unease from earlier returned, like pieces of a puzzle I couldn't quite put together.
*********************************
We turned the corner and nearly walked straight into a group of football players. Their ringleader—some tall, thick-necked guy I didn't recognize —was leaning against the wall. Around him, his crew had surrounded a smaller student. The kid was pale, scrawny, his brown eyes wide behind thin-framed glasses that had slipped down his nose. He hugged his books like a shield, his fingers trembling.
Mike hesitated, grabbing my sleeve. "Uh... maybe we should ....Detour."
I didn't answer. My body moved before my brain caught up.
"Back off."
One of the guys—bulky, with a jaw that looked like it could break bricks—turned with a sneer. "Who do you think you are, new kid? Mind your own business."
My fingers twitched at my sides, ready.
"You're making it my business."
He laughed, but it sounded forced. He stepped closer, puffing out his chest like that was supposed to intimidate me. "You really want to do this? You don't even know who you're messing with."
I didn't move. "Leave him alone."
His face reddened as he took a step closer. "You think you're tough, new kid?" he sneered. "You think you can just waltz in here and defend some nerd?"
His fist clenched.
Then, before I could react, he swung his fist.
Instinct took root—my hand shot out, my fingers locking around his fist, with a sharp twist, I used his own momentum against him, his arm bending at an unnatural angle.
Crack.
He let out a high-pitched wail as he crumpled, clutching his shoulder.
A freshman girl dropped her books to the floor.
Two debate-team guys backed up as if I was contagious.
Then, someone whispered, "Did you see that?"
The hallway fell silent. Even the one leaning against the wall jumped—looking stunned for half a second before his face darkened. "You've got a lot of nerve, new kid."
Mike grabbed my arm, his voice a hissed whisper. "Dude, you've been holding out on me. When did you learn to do that? Are you... some kind of?"
"This isn't over, freak," He said, jaw tightening as he noticed everyone's eyes focusing on him."
But before I could respond, a sharp voice cut through the silence.
"My Office. Now."
*****************************
President's Office
The President's Office smelled like cheap coffee and regret.
I sat stiffly in the chair, hands clenched into fists. Mike fidgeted beside me, stealing nervous glances toward the football player who lounged across from us like he owned the place.
Mr. Perkins stood behind his desk, tall and polished in his gray blazer, massaging his temples. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.
"I don't have time for this," he muttered. "The board's on my back about this year's performance metrics, and I don't need more trouble."
His eyes flicked to the other guy in the room—the smug one who hadn't said a word since we arrived. "Nathan," he said, voice carefully neutral. "You and your... crew need to be more mindful of your behavior."
So that was his name—Nathan. No wonder he looked so untouchable. That name carried weight.
"And what about the one who actually threw the punch?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. "He's the one who started it."
"Allen Briggs is currently in the nurse's office," Perkins said. "And from what I was told, you didn't exactly deescalate the situation."
"Yeah, because they were ganging up on someone half their size," I shot back.
"Enough," he said sharply. "This is your warning. Next time, report incidents to a faculty member—don't take matters into your own hands."
He shuffled some papers on his desk."Now, you and Mr. Reynolds will be serving two days of campus service— cafeteria and library clean up after lunch. End of discussion."
My jaw locked. "What about them?" I asked, gesturing to Nathan. "They started it."
Mr. Perkins didn't even look up. "Nathan has football practice, and Allen needs medical attention."
I wanted to argue, but Mike grabbed my arm, shaking his head slightly. "Not worth it, man," he muttered,his eyes wearing a resigned weariness.
*********************************************
The kid we rescued earlier was still in the hallway where we left, his glasses straightened but his hands still shaking.
Mike walked over, uncharacteristically serious.
"Hey, you okay?"
He adjusted his glasses before answering. "I'm fine, thanks. It's nothing new—I've always been picked on because of my size." His voice was quiet, but there was pain underneath.
Mike's grin faltered as he spoke. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly fascinated by his shoelaces.
Mike shook his head. "Well, not anymore! As long as I'm around, no one's gonna mess with you again." He puffed out his chest, but I saw the guilt in his eyes.
Andrew smiled slightly. "Thanks. I'm Andrew... Andrew Scott."
"Mike," he said, shaking Andrew's hand. "And this is Ethan—the ninja."
I nodded towards him, but my mind was racing. The way I moved earlier— I hope people forget about it by tomorrow.
****************************
Lidia exited the library, her phone clutched tightly in her hand as she typed a quick message.
"Still haven't found it."
Then a reply came almost instantly.
Keep looking. Hurry. I think something has already started to happen.
Lidia frowned, her fingers hovering over the screen.
What does that mean? she typed.
Lidia waited, staring at the screen, but no response came. After a minute, she sighed in frustration and shoved her phone into her pocket. Whatever The Magnus was referring to, it wasn't going to be explained via text.
As she walked to class, she noticed a faint shimmer in the air near the library. It was gone in an instant, but it left her with a sinking feeling. Whatever was happening, it was closer than she thought.
*******************************
Campus service was exactly as terrible as expected. The janitor handed us brooms and pointed at the post-lunch carnage in the cafeteria.
Mike groaned, leaning on his broom like it was the only thing keeping him upright. "This is so unfair. We're the heroes of the day, and this is our reward?"
"Like seriously? We stopped a beatdown, and our reward is cleaning up this mess?"
he said pointing dramatically at the scattered foods and overturned chairs.
I didn't answer, my mind focusing on the strange things centering around me lately. I couldn't shake the feeling that something bigger was coming—something I wasn't sure I was ready for.