After that mess of an assembly, I bolted up the stairs toward class. My heart raced faster than my legs. If I could just get there before everyone else, I’d have the advantage.

  And, miracle of miracles—I did. The room was practically empty.

  Which meant one thing: I could wait. Wait for September. The second she walked in, I’d slide in next to her and claim my seat before Malachi even had time to sniff the air. That way, I’d establish dominance—

  Hold up. Did I just think assert dominance? What am I, a gorilla?

  No, no—nonetheless, it was a simple plan. Easy. Flawless. No big deal.

  Then I saw her.

  September. Her hair swung gently with each step, the kind of rhythm that made my bones melt. She walked toward the fourth row, and of course—because the universe hated me—the classroom was structured just like the Magnifico. She was heading higher.

  And so was I.

  I launched up the stairs, weaving through desks like a man on a mission. I was just about to line up with her when—boom. Malachi’s entire colony stormed in like a stampede. His friends blocked the aisles like human barricades, forcing me to veer, dodge, and squeeze through their herd.

  By the time I clawed my way out of the chaos, it was too late. The sight made my stomach turn.

  Malachi was already sitting by September. Again.

  Luckily, Tisiah had snagged a desk one row down. He waved me over, saving a seat. And honestly? I was grateful. At least this way, I didn’t have to pretend to choose between him and September. If I had, I swear Tisiah would’ve recorded the entire thing for evidence.

  “Trying to sit by September. Good tactic,” Tisiah muttered the second I sat.

  I groaned and let out a long sigh. Before I could reply, the brown door creaked open and Mr. Robbs stepped in.

  He was dressed sharp as always—blue suit, black shirt, no tie. He looked like the type of guy who wanted to be taken seriously but didn’t quite care enough for the finishing touch.

  “Alright, kids,” he said, tapping the remote against his palm before turning on the screen. A list of tasks appeared in neat bullet points. “Today you’ll be working on your DBQ for the Desert Wars. Make sure your essays from yesterday are turned in—they’re due today. That’s priority number one. And remember, the test will be next week. Got it?”

  “Yes, Mr. Robbs,” the class chorused.

  “Good. Once you’ve got your papers, let’s get rolling.”

  He whispered something to a student up front, who popped up with a thick stack of papers and started distributing them row by row.

  “Wanna work together?” Tisiah asked casually.

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  I scoffed. “You think I’m about to do this alone?”

  He shrugged, eyes tracking the paper-passer’s route.

  My own eyes, however, weren’t on the front. My ears were locked on the back. Malachi’s voice drifted over like a siren’s call. I braced myself, every muscle on alert.

  “So,” Malachi said, smooth as butter. “What’s your type?”

  My blood pressure skyrocketed.

  September laughed softly. “Why would that matter?”

  Malachi shrugged. “Just curious. You don’t really show a liking to anyone. If you know what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean.” Her tone carried an edge of interest that stabbed me in the ribs. “But I’m not picky. You look good, you look good.”

  Malachi chuckled. “Guess I could say the same about you.”

  And then—oh no—September laughed. A soft, musical laugh that soothed and poisoned in equal measure. That laugh belonged to me.

  Connor. Chill. Chill.

  I kept repeating it like a mantra, but inside it felt like two dogs barking at each other, trying to outdo the other until the noise swallowed me whole.

  “Well, thanks,” she said. “Can’t say I try, though.”

  “You know you try,” Malachi teased. “You know you do.”

  My palms sweated as I clamped down on the desk, knuckles whitening. That’s when the kid with dyed dark-blue hair dropped a paper on my desk. He wore a baggy white shirt and didn’t even make eye contact. I nodded politely, but the words on the page blurred into nonsense.

  “You need me to read it?” Tisiah asked, smirking. He’d clearly caught my brain short-circuiting.

  “Yeah… yeah,” I muttered. “And maybe explain a little—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I got you.” He flashed a grin and turned his attention to the DBQ.

  I tried to do the same. Really, I did. But then September spoke again.

  “The thing about men is,” she said, her voice soft but certain, “I want them to be confident.”

  Oh, come on.

  “I thought that was your thing,” Malachi countered.

  She tilted her head. “Yeah, but sometimes… you just want a—”

  “A break?” Malachi finished, voice dripping with fake empathy. “You don’t want to carry the burden of decisions. You just want someone else to lead.”

  His tone made me gag.

  September nodded slowly. “Yeah. Like that.”

  “I get it,” Malachi said, lowering his voice. “It’s tough being in that role. But I don’t mind stepping up. Honestly, it gives me assurance—knowing you’d be willing to trust me.”

  Trust you? Seriously? At this point, he might as well throw roses at her feet and get down on one knee.

  Before I could explode, Tisiah cleared his throat. “Okay, here’s what this text is saying…”

  He broke down the DBQ, line by line. Somehow, I managed to nod along, catching most of what he said despite my brain screaming at me to keep eavesdropping.

  “Yeah, sure. Let’s do it,” I mumbled. Then, out of nowhere, the words tumbled out: “Should we do a mission?”

  Tisiah froze mid-sentence, turning his head with the slow disbelief of someone watching a man confess to murder. “Mission?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered. “For the MP system. It makes sense.”

  He frowned, eyebrows furrowing. “How intense are we talking?”

  “Quick in-and-out,” I said. “An infiltrate mission. You’re good with cameras. I’ve got a Perk. Add in a couple teammates… easy.”

  “Got anyone in mind?”

  I hesitated. “You, me… and Nikki. Boom.”

  Tisiah stared at me, unimpressed. His eyes were so dim I half-expected him to slump over and fall asleep right there.

  “You know it’s five teammates, right?” he deadpanned.

  “…Oh. Really?” My chest tightened. “Any suggestions?”

  “Try September and Malachi again.”

  I shot him the exact look he’d just given me. He burst into laughter, loud enough to make people glance over.

  “Priceless,” he wheezed, pointing at me.

  “Yeah, go figure,” I muttered. “But September’s a great idea. Malachi, though? Absolute worst idea.”

  “Why not? He’s great—” Tisiah cracked up again, his laugh somewhere between Goofy and a boiling kettle.

  “Okay, great,” I said flatly. “But maybe we can at least get September.”

  “Sure,” Tisiah said, grin sly. “Might even improve your chances. Better yet—use your Perk on the mission. If she sees what kind of guy you are, it might just work.” He tapped his chin. “Yeah, it might work.”

  “And even if it doesn’t, I’ll rack up MP!” I added, words tumbling out too fast. “Thank you, thank you so much!”

  “You’re the one who came up with the idea,” Tisiah reminded me, brow arched.

  I paused. “…True. But thanks for backing me up.”

  “Sure,” he said hesitantly.