We drove through the town, the streets crowded with people rushing around, their curiosity piqued by the commotion we'd left behind.

  We couldn't see the full extent of the mess we'd caused, but from the looks on people's faces and the hushed whispers we overheard, it was clear something big had happened.

  In the back of our worn-out Grand Marquis, Malachi continued to grumble, not hiding his disappointment with the car. He imagined something more luxurious, like a Bugatti or Lamborghini, a ride that would reflect his grandiose self-image.

  "Hey, can we hurry up with this?" Nikki cut in, trying to change the subject. "We’re just sitting here in this old clunker, might as well park and figure things out before we call Mr. Drails."

  "And I’m starving," Malachi added, his timing as impeccable as ever. "We’re not making it through the night without food."

  "Well, unless you’re secretly a vampire, I think most of us still need to eat," Nikki shot back.

  As we drove, a diner appeared in the distance, its neon sign lighting up the night like a beacon. Our stomachs growled in unison at the sight of it.

  "Let's stop here," Malachi said, steering into the parking lot. "Who knows when we’ll find food again."

  We parked and got out, relieved there were no curious bystanders around. I didn’t need more attention right now. An hour ago, we had our moment of fame, and the last thing I wanted was to be under the microscope again.

  The diner’s door opened, and we all stepped inside. September, as always, took charge of ordering for the group. I, on the other hand, stuck to my usual method: picking the cheapest option. My mom’s frugality was deeply ingrained in me.

  I slid into a booth next to Tisiah, but Nikki quickly claimed the spot next to me. "I’m so used to sitting across from you," she said with a casual smile.

  I didn’t think much of it. We all sat in silence, awkwardly navigating the discomfort between us. Finally, Nikki broke the tension with the question I knew was coming.

  "Connor?"

  "Yeah?"

  "How could you do that?" Her eyes drilled into me, as though searching for an answer I wasn’t sure I had.

  "I... I don’t know," I muttered, trying to explain myself. "I guess I was just desperate. I had to do something."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "That’s not a good enough excuse," Malachi scoffed. "No spell is that destructive. And punching a truck? You must’ve wanted to get yourself killed."

  I could feel my heart race, a cold sweat creeping up on me. If I told them the truth, I’d risk exposing things about my family I wasn’t ready to share. There was too much at stake.

  "I don’t know, okay?" I snapped, my voice rising. "I just did it. I couldn’t think of another way out."

  Malachi hummed, his tone taking on an unsettling edge. "Something’s off. And I’m going to figure it out."

  Before I could say anything, September arrived with our food, thankfully distracting us from the brewing storm. "What’s going on here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Malachi didn’t waste any time. "We think Connor’s hiding some power. There’s no way he pulled off that stunt without something extra."

  "Oh, he definitely has something," September said, her voice cool and unfazed. "Everyone’s got a gift, no shame in that."

  "But if that’s true, then he must be Drails' kid, right?" Malachi pressed, his gaze never leaving me, making me feel like I was under a spotlight.

  "I… I don’t know," I stuttered, my heart thumping harder.

  "What’s your last name?" September asked, her eyes fixed on mine, not letting up.

  Before I could answer, Nikki jumped in. "You guys can’t just interrogate him like this!" she protested. "He saved all of us!"

  "Shut it, Nikki," Malachi snapped.

  "Who are you calling ‘shut it’?" Tisiah growled, clearly losing his patience.

  "Nikki, you got a problem?" Malachi challenged, his voice rising with every word.

  The air between them crackled with tension. I was caught in the middle, my mind racing. The pressure was mounting, and I could feel my temper flaring.

  "What’s your last name, Connor?!" Malachi demanded, his voice cutting through the room.

  I felt my blood start to boil. The question repeated in my mind like a drumbeat, drowning out everything else. I couldn’t stand it anymore.

  Without thinking, I slammed my fist onto the table, the wood splintering beneath my hand, sending everyone into stunned silence.

  The diner went dead quiet. I could feel the eyes of every person in the room on me. Panic surged through me—I needed to leave before I did something worse.

  I bolted from the booth and rushed to the bathroom, locking myself in a stall to escape the chaos. Inside, I collapsed, breathing heavily, tears threatening to spill over. I had no control, no idea how to fix the mess I’d just created. Everything was falling apart, and I was losing myself in the process.

  Then, there was a knock on the stall door. It was soft, gentle—an anchor in the storm.

  "Connor?" September’s voice reached me, full of concern.

  "Yeah?" I answered, my voice shaky.

  "Are you okay?"

  "I don’t know," I admitted, my walls starting to crumble. "I don’t know what to do anymore."

  "Can you come out?" she asked, her voice warm but firm. "It's weird of me to be in the boys bathroom."

  I hesitated, taking a moment to gather what little composure I had left. With a heavy sigh, I unlocked the door and stepped out into the bright, harsh lights of the diner.

  "Is everything okay?" September asked, her eyes scanning mine for signs of distress.

  "Yeah, I’m fine," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just... a little stressed."

  She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "You don’t fool me, you know. You said you were stressed. Are you sure you’re okay? Is there something you’re not telling us?"

  I felt a lump form in my throat, the weight of the truth pressing down on me. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, I just shook my head. "It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it."

  "Alright," she said, though her eyes still held a glimmer of doubt. "But if you ever want to talk, we’re here for you."

  "Thanks," I muttered, grateful for her understanding, even if I couldn’t bring myself to open up just yet.