The following day, I decided to walk home from school.I needed quiet.
The hallways had been a blur of noise all day — music committees talking about the dance, people trading last-minute ticket swaps, and everyone pretending like life wasn't slowly turning into a headline.I just needed air, something real.
The sun was beginning to sink behind the buildings, throwing long amber streaks across the streets. I could hear distant laughter from kids hanging around the track field. The sound carried, faint but alive.
I kept walking, adjusting my backpack strap. The rhythm of my footsteps against the sidewalk gave me something steady to focus on.
Sariya caught me earlier between classes. She asked what color I was wearing to homecoming."Red," I said — my favorite color.She smiled, said it'd suit me, and told me she'd save me a dance.For the first time all week, that promise actually felt like something to look forward to.
I sighed, kicking a small rock that clattered across the concrete."I just hope this insanity ends soon," I muttered. "I thought turning back time would fix it. Guess not. Guess it always circles back to me."
That's when I heard it — the smooth hum of a car engine rolling up behind me.
At first, I didn't look. Cars pass all the time.But this one didn't pass. It slowed.
A black SUV pulled up to the curb, windows tinted dark enough to swallow the reflection of the setting sun. The door clicked open, and I didn't need to look twice to know who it was.
Joe Wann stepped out, suit immaculate as always, tie knotted perfectly, his expression composed but unreadable.
"Afternoon, Kaleb," he said.
I kept walking. "If you're here to hand me another pamphlet about Sentinel Solutions, save the paper."
He ignored the comment. "You've got a minute?"
"Not really. It's been a long day."
He smiled faintly. "Then I'll keep this short."
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a folded paper, sealed and stamped.Even from where I stood, I could see the government insignia — bold, blue, and official.
"You've been issued a summons," he said simply.
I turned halfway toward him, eyebrows drawn. "A what?"
"Court order," he clarified. "You're required to appear before a federal review panel tomorrow evening. 1700 hours."
I blinked, frowning. "Five p.m.? You're kidding, right?"
"No. I don't joke about legal matters."
"That's homecoming, Joe," I said, raising my voice a little. "You picked the same time as the dance?"
He tilted his head slightly. "I didn't pick the time. The Department did."
"You could've said something."
He shrugged. "Not my place. I just delivered the notice."
I let out a dry laugh. "You have no idea how ridiculous that sounds, do you? You show up in a black car, in the middle of the street, to tell me I'm missing my school dance because the government wants to 'review' my blood sample?"
"Kaleb—"
"No, seriously. Listen to yourself. I get hurt, the hospital patches me up, and suddenly I'm a federal project?"
Joe's tone stayed calm, measured. "You were treated after a metahuman-related incident. Bloodwork from those events is automatically submitted for analysis. It's standard procedure."
"Yeah, and I'm sure dragging me into a courtroom instead of sending a letter is standard, too."
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This isn't punishment. It's a precaution. Sentinel's medical branch identified traces of metahuman DNA in your file. The hearing is a formal check — nothing more."
I folded my arms. "You really expect me to believe that?"
He looked at me, unblinking. "It's not about belief. It's about compliance."
"I'm sixteen," I said. "What exactly do they think I've done? Thrown a desk too hard?"
His voice lowered slightly, almost kind. "It's not what they think you've done, Kaleb. It's what you might be capable of. That's what scares them."
I stared at him. "You mean it's what scares you."
Joe smiled thinly. "I don't scare easily."
"Sure you don't." I adjusted my bag again, ready to keep walking. "Look, I have plans tomorrow. I'm not showing up for whatever this circus is. I've got a dance, remember?"
He took a few steps closer, closing the space between us. His shoes clicked against the pavement, sharp and deliberate. "You'll want to reconsider that."
"Or what?"
He reached into his jacket again and pulled out a second paper — this one smaller, stamped red. "Failure to appear will result in immediate detainment pending compliance."
I felt my jaw tighten. "You're serious."
"Unfortunately."
"So those are my options," I said. "Skip homecoming or get arrested."
He gave a slow nod. "Essentially, yes."
I laughed once, hollow. "You really know how to keep things simple, Joe."
"I prefer clear choices."
"Clear choices," I repeated. "You sound like a robot."
He smiled faintly. "You're not the first to tell me that."
The air between us went still. Cars passed at the far end of the street, distant enough that their engines sounded like echoes. The neighborhood felt frozen — just two people standing in the middle of a quiet world that didn't care what they were saying.
Finally, I broke the silence. "You do this a lot, don't you? Ruin whatever's left of someone's life in the name of protocol."
Joe studied me for a moment, his tone soft but precise. "It's not about ruining lives, Kaleb. It's about understanding them. You're not in trouble. You're a question that no one knows how to answer yet."
"I'm not a question," I said sharply. "I'm a person."
"And people leave data," he replied calmly. "Data doesn't lie."
I clenched my fists. "You ever think maybe some things shouldn't be analyzed?"
"That's not how the world works."
"Yeah, I'm starting to figure that out."
Joe glanced down the street, then back at me. "Tell your date you'll make it up to her. You might thank me later."
"For what? Ruining my night?"
"For keeping you out of the spotlight," he said. "There'll be reporters near the school tomorrow. Cameras. The Harbingers made enough noise to put Sentinel on high alert. It's better if you're not seen."
I frowned. "What does that even mean?"
"It means things are moving faster than you think. It'd be wise to move carefully with them."
He slipped the folded summons into my jacket pocket before I could react. The paper felt heavier than it should have.
"Five p.m. sharp," he said. "Room 204, downtown courthouse. Don't make me send someone to find you."
I looked at him, voice quieter now. "You really don't want me to have a normal life, do you?"
He hesitated, then said, "Normal doesn't exist for people like you anymore."
He turned and walked back to the SUV, the door shutting with a low, final thud. The vehicle pulled away from the curb, the sound of the engine fading into the distance until there was nothing left but silence and the smell of exhaust.
I stood there for a while, staring down at the folded paper sticking out of my pocket. The government seal glinted in the last rays of sunlight like an open threat.
Homecoming.
Court.
Two different worlds, same time, same day.
The universe had a sense of humor — a bad one.
I looked toward the horizon, the light bleeding out of the sky, and muttered to myself,"Red was a good choice, though. At least I'll look decent when everything falls apart."