The next few days dragged by in a loop of uneasy repetition. Sentinel Solutions still had their eyes everywhere—lurking, watching, cataloging every breath like they were waiting for me to slip. The Harbingers were ghosts, tucked away somewhere in the cracks of this fractured timeline.
And speaking of timelines, this one still didn't feel right. It was like living inside someone else's life, slightly off-beat, as if the air itself remembered a version of me that I wasn't supposed to be anymore.
I sat at the dining table, stabbing half-heartedly at my breakfast while the morning sunlight cut through the blinds in thin gold lines. Booker and Aaliah had already left—laughing, running late as always—and the silence they left behind pressed on the kitchen walls.
My bus will be here in thirty minutes. Thirty minutes until I had to pretend everything was normal again. Thirty minutes until reality resumed its tiresome loop.
It's not that I hate school… It's just that school feels like the last place I belong.
"Kaleb," Mom called out from the kitchen counter, her tone full of that fake cheer parents use when they're trying to convince both you and themselves. "I know you're excited to go back to school."
I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the cereal swirling in my bowl. "It doesn't feel the same. Sentinel Solutions is going to be there too—I just know it."
She exhaled through her nose, that patient sigh she always gave when she wanted to sound reassuring. "Then ignore them. They don't have anything on us. They're looking for cracks, not truths."
She paused, leaning on the counter. "And besides… you'll get to see your friends again, right?"
Before I could answer, the distant hiss of brakes and the low growl of an engine echoed down the street. The bus.
I grabbed my bag. "Guess it's time to go."
Mom hugged me tight before I could dodge it, pressing a few kisses onto the top of my head like I was still ten.
"Hey, knock it off," I muttered, red creeping up my face.
I rushed out before she could do it again, heading toward the bus stop at the end of the subdivision. The air was crisp—too calm, almost suspiciously so.
The bus took its time making the neighborhood rounds. I stood there quietly, watching the road shimmer under the morning light, when someone stepped up beside me, mirroring my posture.
Then came that voice."Have a good day at school, Kaleb," Joe said, too casual, too deliberate.
I sighed. "What is it now? Am I acting too normal for your taste?"
He chuckled under his breath, clicking his tongue three times in that irritating rhythm. "Just wondering if you've decided to come clean yet."
I turned to face him, heat rising in my chest. "Why are you bothering me? I haven't done anything wrong. You keep picking at me like I'm some kind of puzzle piece that doesn't fit—why me, Joe?"
He didn't answer. Just turned and walked away, leaving that question hanging in the air like smoke.
When the bus pulled up, its doors opened with a hiss that cut right through my thoughts. The driver, a woman with kind eyes and too much energy for the hour, greeted me. "Good morning, sweetie."
I gave her a small nod, forcing a polite smile, then made my way to an empty seat. Pressing my forehead against the cold glass, I muttered under my breath, They're never going to leave me alone.
Another stop. A flood of voices. Someone dropped into the seat beside me, and I turned—my heart did that tiny, inconvenient skip.
"Hey," Sariya said, her voice soft but bright, that signature half-giggle riding her words.
"Uh—good morning," I managed awkwardly.
She laughed lightly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "You don't have to sound so nervous. We literally kissed, remember?" She adjusted her bag on her lap with an effortless smile.
I looked away, trying to mask the small grin forming at the corner of my mouth.
"Happy to be back in school?" she asked.
"Not really, if I'm being honest," I said.
She tilted her head sympathetically, then I started, "I'm sorry about last week, I got nerv—"
Before I could finish, she placed a finger gently against my lips. "I know, Kaleb. It happens."
I felt my face warm again. She didn't have to do that—but she did anyway.
The rest of the ride passed in a blur. Just her quiet laughter, the hum of the bus, and the weight of a thousand unspoken words sitting between us.
"For the record," I said finally, "I did have a crush on you in ninth grade."
She smiled knowingly. "You think I didn't know? My friends told me ages ago."
The bus rolled to a stop in front of the school, and the doors folded open like a final curtain. We unloaded, swallowed by the swarm of students. Sariya broke away to join her friends, her laughter echoing down the walkway.
I spotted Darrell waving like a maniac. "Kaleb!" he called dramatically.
"Where is everyone else?" I asked as I walked up.
He shrugged. "You're the first one I've seen."
Before I could respond, a pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind. "Ooo la la," came Malique's fake falsetto.
"Knock it off, fucker," I snapped, elbowing him lightly.
"Oh, no need to get all snappy, turtle," he teased.
Darrell chuckled. "What now?"
"Have y'all heard the news?" Malique grinned, eyes glinting.
We both looked at him blankly.
"The Homecoming dance is this Friday." He started rambling about lights, outfits, and how legendary it was going to be.
"I don't even know who I'm taking," Darrell said. "Or what I'm wearing."
"Same," I admitted.
Malique smirked. "Just take Sariya."
And as if summoned by her own name, Sariya appeared right behind me, making me jump. "Yeah, I heard she's cool," she said, skipping off, her laughter bouncing down the hallway.
Darrell gave me a look. "I think she likes you."
"You think?" I replied dryly.
"And you ran from that?" Malique added with a grin.
I shoved him playfully. "Shut up."
"Hey!" he barked back, laughing.
"I'm going to class," I said, waving them off.
As I walked the halls, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced down. A news alert flashed across the screen. My heart dropped.
Harbingers of Doom obliterate Sentinel Solutions facility—hundreds of meta-humans confirmed dead, dozens injured.
The words burned into my eyes. My pulse quickened. I stuffed the phone away before anyone could see.
By the time I entered math class, my head was spinning. I took my seat, glancing toward Ski across the room. He gave me a quick nod, but I barely registered it.
Halfway through the lesson, my phone buzzed again.
"Kaleb," Mr. Peterson said sharply from the front. "You know the rules." He extended his hand. "Hand it over."
I hesitated, then slid it into his palm.
As I stood, someone's foot hooked my ankle. My balance gave out, and my skull collided with the corner of a desk—hard. A sharp crack of pain bloomed behind my eyes, and I hit the floor, dazed.
Through the ringing in my ears, I saw the culprit grinning. Blood trickled down the side of my face. My jaw clenched.
I whispered something I probably shouldn't have. A single phrase.
And right then—he slammed his own head against his desk with a sickening thud.
The entire class froze. Not a sound. Just wide eyes and the hum of fluorescent lights.
The next thing I knew, I was sitting in a sterile white room. Mom was beside me, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to stay composed.
"He's going to need stitches," the doctor said matter-of-factly. "Since it happened at school, the district will cover the surgery."
The procedure was quick but left me exhausted. By the time we got home, my head was wrapped in thick white bandages, the dull ache still pulsing underneath.
I dropped onto my bed and exhaled, staring at the ceiling.
"School," I muttered to myself. "Yay."