Prologue: Chapter 0
I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to be doing this, and if I had a choice, I wouldn't have accepted what was handed to me. I wouldn't have come to this place, because now, as we speak, I'm entangled in something.
My name is Chain Clear, and this is my story of how I went from being one of the rejected applicants of all schools to being the one who is about to destroy a school. Talk about irony.
This won't be one of those stories where I tell you how my day began and then torment and torture you with so much info-dump that you don't care about. I want to avoid making this story draggy, hard to follow, or confusing.
Just a couple of months ago, I was your ordinary fifteen-year-old boy struggling to get into a high school. Now I understand why the adults always complained about job hunting. It's a warzone out here.
I don't know how you're going to take this. Maybe you'll think it's funny, maybe relatable, but whatever it is, just know this is nothing but the honest truth: I've been applying to all the schools not just around my area but across my entire district.
And I'm sure you already know the response to all my applications — rejected.
I was sitting at home with my mom and younger sister. My father had just given us a heads-up that he received a letter from one of the schools I applied to for next year.
Time felt hard to measure because of how nervous I was. My leg was literally tapping nonstop. But one thing I can tell you for sure is that it was dinner time, and my mother had cooked an amazing meal. She didn't want to admit it, but the meal she cooked was meant to make me feel better about the outcome.
"Mom, do you really think cooking this much food is necessary?" I asked her. My voice was calm, but you could hear the nervousness dripping between the words.
"Oh, don't worry, baby. This is food to make us feel good and healthy, okay?" She avoided my gaze as she set up the table.
I was sitting with my younger sister, Victoria Clear. She was just six years old, and we were both watching one of her favorite kids' shows about a young girl who got transferred to a new school and became some kind of detective solving every single case.
Dad's car pulled up in the driveway, turned off the headlights, and I'm pretty sure I heard him talking to someone as they approached the front porch.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Dad knocked before coming in — something he had never done before when coming home from work.
"Victoria, sweetie, do you mind opening the door for your father?" Mom asked.
"Sure thing, Mommy!" Victoria jumped off the couch and ran to the door.
She was wearing one of her favorite pink fairy dresses — the overly sparkly one with butterfly wings. It had a star wand, but she had left it next to me.
Victoria was kind of short, so she was struggling to reach the door handle.
"Mommy, I can't reach it," she told Mom while stretching as far as she could.
"Chain, would you mind helping your sister?" Mom asked as she set the pots on the table.
"Sure thing, Mom. Hey, Vic, step aside so I can wave around my magic to open the door for you," I said, picking up her toy wand.
I waved it around like I was about to perform some cheesy magic trick.
"We both know you don't know how to do magic," Victoria said.
"Are you sure about that?" I asked.
"Yes. In this family, it's just me, Mom, and Dad who can use that wand to do magic. I'm sorry to tell you this, big brother, but the magic skipped you," Victoria said, sticking her tongue out.
"Well, let's see if that's the case. How do you do this again?" I looked at her wand. "Oh yeah. Magic fairy dust, please help my sister reach the handle and open the door." I waved the wand and pointed it at her and the door.
Victoria tried one last time — and she actually reached the handle and opened the door.
"Voila! Thank you, I'm here till next week." I got off the couch and bowed dramatically.
Victoria scoffed, puffing her cheeks and folding her arms. The truth was, I didn't do anything — our door just tends to get stuck, so it takes a few tries before it opens.
Dad walked in, and Victoria instantly forgot she was mad. She ran straight into his arms.
"Dad!" she shouted excitedly as she jumped into his arms.
Dad, of course, caught her. "Hey, princess. Daddy's home." He lifted her up.
"Hey, love, perfect timing. Dinner's just about ready," Mom said as she placed the plates.
"Hey, Dad, you got my letter?" I walked up to him.
"Sure, I got it right here." He smiled and handed me the envelope, unopened. "Oh honey, I hope you won't mind, but I also invited my new boss, Mr. Whirlhouse, to join us for dinner," he told Mom as he handed me his briefcase and coat.
"That's good because I think I may have overdone the cooking." Mom sounded relieved.
"Perfect. Now, why don't you come in, Mr. Whirlhouse," Dad said, looking outside.
Mr. Whirlhouse stepped in, and I swear on my grandparents' graves, it was like he was delivered by the wind — leaves followed him inside.
"Hello, everyone. Nice to meet you." Mr. Whirlhouse took off his hat and bowed his head gently.
"Welcome," Mom said quickly as she rushed to greet him.
"Mr. Whirlhouse, this is my amazingly gorgeous wife, Margaret Clear, and these are my two beautiful children — my son Chain and our young princess Victoria," Dad introduced us.
"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Mr. Whirlhouse said as he shook our hands.
From the name alone, this man was already uniquely strange. He was tall — and I mean anciently tall. I'm not good with numbers, so I'll let you imagine it. Just know he was towering.
He wore a long khaki-colored coat that reached his feet, buttoned all the way up. When we tried to take it from him, he refused, saying he was fine.
His beard looked like something out of a fantasy story — the wise old mentor type — which made his head look a bit small, maybe because of his scruffy long white hair.
Since he didn't want to take off his coat, he just handed us his vintage black briefcase and umbrella.
"Enough about that, I'm sure you must be starving," Dad said, placing a hand on Mr. Whirlhouse's shoulder.
"You have no idea. It's like I just woke up from a fifteen-year hibernation. I'm super hungry," he joked, then looked at me and smiled.
Dad chuckled. "So why don't we head to the table?" he said, leading the way.
After I put away Mr. Whirlhouse's belongings safely, I took my sister's hand and we joined them at the table.
"Mr. Whirlhouse, I hope you like your greens," Mom joked as she dished up.
"You have no idea," he replied.
Dad told us more about Mr. Whirlhouse — how he bought the company a few months ago, how he took Dad under his wing, and how he plans to make Dad the boss of one of his other establishments outside the city.
It was nice. We were all laughing and having a great time. I still had the letter Dad handed me earlier.
"Uhm, Dad… is it okay if I open my letter here?" I asked politely.
"Sure thing. I don't see why not," Dad said.
Everyone looked at me. I placed the letter on the table, cleaned my hands, and opened it.
I won't lie — with all those eyes on me, I was shaking. This was the last school I had applied to, and I was about to see their response.
"Phew… sorry, I'm so nervous," I apologized.
"It's okay, son. Just open it. I really have a great feeling about this one," Dad said, just as nervous as I was.
My family held hands and prayed for me.
I finally managed to open the envelope and read the response:
"Mr. Chain Clear, we regret to inform you that even though you are the only one out of a hundred candidates to score a perfect ninety-five percent, we are sorry, but our school is already at full capacity."
I read every single word out loud.
After that, I felt defeated. My mom took the letter from me.
"Let me see," she said, probably thinking I was joking.
She read it, and just like me, she set it down quietly. I kept my head lowered so they wouldn't see me crying. Mom noticed.
"Oh, I'm sorry, baby. It's going to be okay," she said as she hugged me.
"Excuse me, and forgive me if it seems like I'm prying into your family's business, but what's going on?" Mr. Whirlhouse asked, sipping his juice.
"Oh, I'm sorry you had to witness this, but my son here has gotten rejected by every high school we've applied to. So now, next year, he doesn't have a school to attend," Dad said, ashamed and unable to look Mr. Whirlhouse in the eyes.
"And the worst part is that our son is smart. He's one of the top students in the whole district, and yet they're doing this to him," Mom said, holding back tears.
The mood dropped drastically. Victoria came over to comfort us.
Mr. Whirlhouse saw how sad we were.
"Hey, you know what? I actually know a headmaster of a high school called Twilight Academy. It's not well-known because of old traditions, but if you apply and I give you a recommendation, I'm sure young Chain here will be accepted," he said.
All of us raised our heads and stared at him at the same time — maybe because we didn't believe him or didn't know what to say.
"Is there something on my face?" he asked, confused by our expressions.
"No, it's not that… but are you serious?" Dad asked in disbelief.
"Yes, I am. But as I said, it's not very well-known. If you want to apply, Chain should take a pen. Here is the application letter — he better start writing." Mr. Whirlhouse took a letter from his briefcase and handed it to me.
We didn't even care to ask how his briefcase suddenly appeared next to him after I'd put it away.
I wrote what I could think of. One thing about me — I was gifted at creative writing — so I finished in under a minute.
"Here," I said, handing it back.
"Incredible," he said, looking over it.
"So what happens next?" I asked.
Mr. Whirlhouse had already finished eating and was getting ready to leave.
"Now, I just have to deliver this letter on my way home. After that, it will be verified, and once approved, Chain will have to partake in an entrance exam," he said, grabbing his belongings.
"And when will that be, if you don't mind us asking?" Dad said as he stood up to accompany him.
Mr. Whirlhouse was already opening his umbrella.
"It can be any day from now. But I would advise that Chain gets some well-deserved rest, because things are about to get hectic."
He looked at me and winked.
Then suddenly, rain poured heavily outside.
And out of nowhere, I felt tired — yawning nonstop, barely able to stay awake.