6 months of attending both high school and the YMPA brought a curious mix of relief and unease.

  The good thing was, this week, I was spared from Kirk’s constant bullying—he was off on some poorly timed trip to New York. Kirk had a talent for targeting every vulnerability, his taunts always cutting deeper than I wanted to admit.

  The sheer relief of not having to brace myself for his relentless harassment, even for a single day, was almost intoxicating. On the other hand, Greg’s antics were a different flavor of torment.

  I let out a small sigh as I opened my locker, one of the most normal and consistent things about school... unless it's Arizona or something. The sight of my books neatly organized brought a brief moment of calm. That fleeting serenity, however, was soon shattered—Greg had an uncanny knack for showing up without warning.

  “Hey there,” he greeted, his tone casual.

  Suppressing a flicker of annoyance, I sighed. “How long are you going to keep doing this?”

  Greg grinned, utterly unfazed. “It’s tradition, my friend. Gotta keep it alive.”

  I rolled my eyes, resigned to his antics. “Right, well, I’m off to class,” I muttered, brushing past him.

  “Good luck, schoolworm,” he teased, his smirk lingering as he turned away. It wasn’t the worst insult I’d endured, but it still stung. Sometimes, I was grateful I didn’t wear glasses—an extra target for the “nerd” label everyone seemed eager to hurl around.

  Navigating the crowded hallway, my attention was drawn to a figure trailing behind me. He wasn’t someone I recognized. His red hair and tan jacket over a white shirt made him stand out, though his jeans and boots were unremarkable.

  I could feel my stomach tighten as unease prickled at the edges of my thoughts. Was he watching me? My palms grew clammy as I quickened my pace, trying to dismiss the sinking feeling. *Don’t be ridiculous,* I told myself. *There’s no way he’s following you.*

  Even so, I couldn’t stop the occasional glance over my shoulder, each one revealing him still there, still walking behind me. His steady gait and the almost deliberate way he avoided eye contact only made my nerves worse. The odds of him being interested in me seemed slim—or so I hoped.

  I reached my math classroom, slipping into my usual seat—front row, far right. Mr. Todd was already there, his feet propped casually on his desk as he flipped through Ian Fleming’s *Casino Royale*. It wasn’t unusual; he often read during class, regardless of whether the book was remotely math-related.

  As the room filled with the murmur of students settling in, Mr. Todd finally looked up, offering a quick smile. “Hello, and welcome back to Math Class.”

  Before he could say more, the intercom crackled to life: “May Connor Drails please report to the principal’s office. Thank you.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  A jolt of anxiety shot through me. Confused and uneasy, I stood up and headed for the door. But as I made my way down the aisle, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Glancing over my shoulder, I was startled to see the red-haired stranger standing by the classroom entrance. It seemed too odd to be a coincidence.

  Stepping into the hallway, I tried to calm my nerves. Yet, as I continued walking, I noticed the stranger following me again. Once could be dismissed as chance. Twice made me uneasy. The third time—this was definitely a pattern.

  My heart pounded faster, and I quickened my pace, scanning for any escape route or hiding place. As I passed the school’s large main entrance, I caught sight of the stranger in the hallway’s shadows, his gaze fixed on me. A chill ran down my spine, and I instinctively tightened my grip on my backpack strap, prepared to bolt if necessary.

  That’s when I noticed something I never thought I’d see outside of a fantasy novel—he had a wand.

  It was sleek and polished, its dark wood gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Intricate carvings spiraled along its length, glowing faintly with a bluish hue, as though it pulsed with its own life.

  The tip emitted a faint shimmer, like a dying ember, promising power far beyond anything I understood. He lifted it, and a cold dread settled over me. My mind whirled, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

  In a voice far too calm, he uttered, “Creatures, attack.”

  To my horror, snarling wolves materialized from the shadows, their forms twisting unnaturally as if born from pure darkness. Their glowing red eyes pierced through the dim corridor, locking onto me with predatory intent.

  Their jagged teeth gleamed, and the matted, inky black fur along their spines bristled as they crouched to pounce. The sound of their growls reverberated like a low, menacing thunder, rising in volume as they lunged.

  Panic shot through me like an electric current, and I let out a scream, spinning on my heels as the wolves’ claws scraped against the tile, their guttural snarls echoing behind me. My only thought was to run.

  My feet pounded against the tile floor as I raced ahead, desperately searching for somewhere—anywhere—to hide. Spotting a storage room, I veered toward it, practically diving through the door. Inside, I tripped over a couple of these boxes that were stacked on this device. But with the three remaining brain cells that weren't freaked out, I pushed them towards the door—hopefully enough to keep them at bay.

  The wolves barked and clawed at the makeshift barricade, their frenzied snarls sending icy fear through my veins. Trapped in the cramped room, I looked around frantically, searching for another exit or a weapon—anything to defend myself. My wand, of course, was nowhere near me. I’d made the dumb decision not to carry my tool belt.

  Then, just as suddenly as they’d appeared, the wolves vanished. The door burst open, and the stranger stepped inside. I scrambled backward, nearly tripping over a desk and a row of chairs.

  The man closed the distance in a heartbeat, and before I could react, he slammed his knee into my back, his arm snaking around my throat.

  Gasping for air, I felt my strength draining fast. My vision blurred, and dark spots danced before my eyes. My lungs burned, and I thought this might be the end.

  Suddenly, there was a loud thud. The pressure on my neck released, and I sucked in a ragged breath. Through watery eyes, I saw a familiar figure standing over me—September, her blue wand in hand, anger and worry etched on her face.

  “September?” I croaked, still struggling to breathe.

  She glared at me, her brows knitted tightly, frustration clear in her narrowed eyes. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but her grip on her wand trembled slightly, betraying the worry simmering beneath her anger. “What were you thinking, Connor?”

  “H-he was chasing me,” I rasped.

  September rolled her eyes, though there was real concern in them. “I can see that, you doughnut. Why didn’t you fight back? Why were you running around like a defenseless rabbit?”

  I had no good answer. My head spun with exhaustion and confusion.

  She exhaled, her voice softening just a bit. “Come on. I’m taking you back to the YMPA.”

  "But I was called to the principal's office, though..." I replied to her, my brows furrowed.

  She turned around, exhaling, except this time that softness had now turned as hard as a brick. "You got called to the principal's office, and suddenly this happens. Do you really think the principal called you?"

  I couldn't even say anything.

  "Come on," she ordered, as I followed her with relief coursing through me as I realized how narrowly I’d escaped disaster.