Bonus Chapter 3
"So… are you gonna tell me what actually happened yesterday?" Amara asked as they stepped out of the classroom. "I got first period free. Might as well hear the tea."
Naomi hesitated for a moment, adjusting the strap of her satchel on her shoulder. Her face was thoughtful, eyes scanning the hallway. "If you're going to help us, you need to know what we're up against."
Amara raised a brow and gave her a once-over. "Wait—we up against something? I thought y'all just got roughed up by Mateo's lackeys or some underground fight club nonsense."
Naomi gave her a sharp look, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "It's a long story."
"Well then," Amara said with a dramatic sigh, "let's go find a free classroom. I got snacks. And you got answers."
As they made their way down the hallway, their footsteps echoing lightly against the floor, they passed by a bulletin board plastered with student notices, club meetings, and a prominent poster pinned dead-center. Amara glanced at it without much thought, but Naomi slowed down, curiosity getting the better of her.
"'Elite Hand Over Ceremony'?" Naomi read aloud, tilting her head. "What's that?"
Amara stopped and turned back, clicking her tongue. "Oh, you don't know about the Elites?"
Naomi shook her head. "I've heard the term thrown around, but I didn't know there was a whole ceremony."
"Girl," Amara said, taking a step closer to the board, "that's like, the biggest flex Blackridge pulls all year. Whole school turns up. Think of it like a graduation but way more dramatic and with way more shade."
Naomi looked amused. "Explain."
"So," Amara began, folding her arms with flair, "all schools got some way of picking out their golden children, right? At Blackridge, we call 'em the Elites. Twelve students. Top of the top. Strongest, smartest, slickest."
Naomi's eyes narrowed as she read the details on the flyer. "Only twelve?"
"Yup. And they don't just hand that title out like free samples. You gotta earn it." Amara pointed at the poster with a sharp fingernail. "End of every year, the school board holds this three-part gauntlet: an exam to test your brain, a contest to test your creativity and strategy, and a tournament to test your raw power."
Naomi blinked. "That sounds… intense."
"Oh it is," Amara said with a grin. "Students train all year for it. And the crazy part? Even Mateo and Serena had to go through it. Being a pretty face or student council prez don't mean squat if you flop the trials."
"So that's how they're chosen," Naomi murmured. "I always wondered how Serena got her rep."
"I heard, she was the fifth highest in the exam, but the only pick the top 3 grades" Amara admitted, rolling her eyes. "Much as I can't stand her 'ice queen of BA' act, she's powerful. Like—too powerful for someone who walks around in heels 24/7."
Naomi let out a quiet chuckle. "And the cloaks?"
"Symbol of the Elites," Amara explained. "Black as your worst secrets, with a gold trim. Badges too. Once the ceremony hits, the current Elites hand their cloaks and roles over to the new batch."
"Kind of like passing the torch."
"Exactly." Amara leaned in slightly. "Word is, the current Elites are the strongest batch the school's had in a decade. So there's a lot of pressure on the newbies. People say the headmistress is watching this year closely—might even recommend the top three for off-campus training."
Naomi's expression turned thoughtful. "And Mateo? He's not an Elite?"
"Thankfully he isn't," Amara said. "But he's Student Council President which still gives him just enough social standing to compete with the elites in popularity . That's why folks either love him or hate him, most love him though I'm in the latter camp, in case that wasn't obvious."
Naomi's fingers brushed the corner of the flyer. "So these trials… they determine who gets power."
Amara snorted. "At Blackridge? Power is everything. Strength, charm, connections—you name it. Being an Elite means the teachers let you get away with murder. Not literally. I think."
Naomi stayed quiet for a moment, her mind turning over the new information. She looked up at Amara. "Have you ever thought of going for it?"
Amara laughed, a loud, genuine sound. "Please. I'm barely holding it together with these glitchy phasing powers. One wrong sneeze and I phase through the toilet. Nah, I'll pass. Plus I'm still in form 5"
Naomi cracked a smile. "I think you'd surprise people."
Amara gave her a look, mock serious. "Are you trying to get me killed? Do you know how many people train like Spartans for that tournament?"
Naomi smiled, but her thoughts drifted again. The Elites. Power. Prestige. And yet, none of it seemed to matter compared to what she and Jordan were dealing with. This wasn't about being the best at school anymore. This was about survival.
"Come on," Amara said, tugging Naomi gently by the sleeve. "Let's find that classroom. Your tea's gettin' cold."
---
They slipped into an empty lecture room on the second floor, far from the main corridors. Amara tossed her bag onto a desk and flopped into a chair like it owed her rent. Naomi followed more carefully, taking a seat beside her and placing her satchel in her lap.
Amara unzipped her backpack, pulling out a bag of spicy chips and a can of soda. "Alright. Spill."
Naomi hesitated again, eyes fixed on the empty chalkboard.
Amara waved a chip. "Girl, don't make me beg. You said it yourself—if I'm helping, I need to know what I'm getting into with."
Naomi nodded. "Right." She took a breath. "It started… before the semester. Something happened when Jordan was a kid. Something big. But he doesn't remember."
Amara's brows raised, but she stayed quiet.
"I found out recently that there's something inside him, I found out.just before transferring here actually. His powers—his red and blue energy—is unstable. Not because he's weak, but because of what he absorbed during an incident twelve years ago."
"Absorbed?" Amara repeated. "Like, he ate something radioactive? Became Glitch-Hulk?"
Naomi smiled faintly. "Not exactly. He was near a factory when it happened. His ball rolled in, he followed it, and... something happened. Something catastrophic. The factory exploded."
Amara blinked. "Wait. That explosion? The one they say sounded loud enough to level a whole block, but only the factoryhad minor damage?"
Naomi nodded. "He was at the edge of it. But he didn't die. Instead, a strange woman—someone who was being experimented on—used her last bit of energy to protect him. Not just shield him—she... merged with him."
Amara's snack bag paused mid-air. "You serious?"
Naomi nodded again, her voice low. "My mother—she and the other shrine mistresses were part of a group that was supposed to protect the were supposed to protect a woman had recently gone missing found Jordan at the factory were the tracked the woman's disappearance to so—they pieced this together using a clairvoyant. A woman who can see the past if she touches someone involved."
Amara let out a low whistle. "Damn. That's wild."
"They found out Jordan absorbed a huge amount of energy from the explosion. It altered him. Made his powers unstable. But also wiped his memory clean of the accident. They took him home, told his father everything, and made him swear a Heavenly Pact to keep it secret."
Amara frowned. "And he's just finding out now?"
Naomi's face was full of guilt. "I haven't even told him the full story, He was never supposed to know. But his powers are getting worse. If we don't help him now, he could hurt himself. Or worse—others."
Amara leaned back in her chair, silent for a long moment. Then she said, "Well damn."
Naomi looked at her. "You okay?"
"I just thought y'all had drama. Like, love triangle, evil ex, maybe a little secret society stuff. But this? This is like next-level anime type shi."
Naomi gave a tired chuckle. "Tell me about it."
Amara crunched on a chip and pointed it at her. "Alright, here's the deal. We're gonna help Jordan but we have to tell him everything first, and you owe me so many snacks for this."
Naomi smiled. "Deal."
They sat in silence for a few more minutes, the weight of what Naomi had shared settling between them. Outside, the school bell rang, signaling the end of the next class. Footsteps began to echo down the halls again, students laughing, chatting, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath the surface.
Amara stood up, brushing crumbs from her lap. "So what's the plan for lunch? Corner him and hit him with a truth bomb?"
Naomi nodded slowly. "We have to. He deserves to know everything now."
Amara rolled her eyes. "You really think he's gonna take all this calmly?"
"No," Naomi said quietly. "But we'll be there for him. That's all we can do."
Amara swung her bag over her shoulder. "Alright then. Let's go prep our intervention."
As they left the classroom, Naomi glanced once more at the bulletin board across the hall. The Elite Hand Over Ceremony shimmered in bold print. Power, prestige, popularity.
But what they were facing was bigger than any title.
And far more dangerous.