Tuesday, May 7

  Cafeteria

  Mission: N/A

  15:05

  “So you think Jamal didn’t attack you,” Nikki asked with the most skeptical expression I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness. “That’s a twist.”

  “No, no, no—no. That’s what Jamal said. But I think he only said that because he saw us.”

  “You guys were behind a bush—”

  “That was technically moving,” I said. “In fact, he almost shot directly at us, meaning he probably knew we were there, but then decided—I don’t know. Maybe Jamal is smarter than we think.”

  “Which could make him the mole,” Mari said.

  Tisiah’s eyebrows lowered dramatically. “Where did you get that from? Bro just said he might be smarter.”

  “Did we forget what Jamal’s been doing to us?” Mari shot back. “He probably tried to get Nikki to like him to throw off suspicion, attacked you since you were on his mission, and Maddie and Elf—who are his closest friends—ran? And seeing that you guys were following him, instead of stopping you he used that time to fake a story about how it ‘wasn’t him,’ even though he described the events perfectly. In fact—Connor, did you even see him at all?”

  “No.”

  “He’s literally following him,” Mari said, “of course he isn’t trying to be obvious. But Connor would’ve at least seen a yellow car, and he didn’t. Jamal sent them. They told him what happened. And once he realized you guys were following him, he used that to his advantage. Jamal is playing chess with us right now, and we think he’s playing with stuffed animals.”

  “Or—or—” Tisiah offered, “maybe Jamal didn’t try to hurt him. Not saying he’s not the mole, but he may not have sent that attack.”

  Mari sighed. “I don’t know. We just need to watch Jamal. Connor, you have a class with him, right?”

  “Y’all don’t?”

  “No. And I’d like to keep it that way,” Nikki muttered. I shivered. “You want me to spy on him in Tactical Bomb Diffusion?”

  “Did you get your new stuff yet?” Mari asked.

  I shook my head—instantly, huge smiles spread across all their faces.

  Wow. I did not expect the future of my wand’s abilities to be decided by an unforgiving pack of behemoths shouting simultaneously about what I should get.

  We had gone to the library—now more packed than ever thanks to the machines.

  Since I never got to pick new MP abilities before, I was actually excited. And for once, the hype didn’t disappoint. It felt like a literal school store in a video game, complete with bundles and upgrades.

  I had about 1000 MP, which, judging by the prices, meant I could get a solid amount.

  First, they made me get the earbuds that Malachi had. They came out of this tiny door at the bottom of the booth and had to be installed in a slot inside the wand. Next came these binocular-glasses, with a very, very small knob on the top right corner of the frame to zoom in.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  Then I bought the ability to separate the wand into knives—and you could still use your powers with them. That was sick.

  I kept the mallet because honestly, it was still incredibly useful.

  That left me with about 200 MP, so of course I spent it on some new purple bolt that was basically a miniature grenade. Cool? Yes. Safe? Absolutely not. Usable? Probably not. But that’s what happens when you have three voices behind you yelling “GET THAT ONE!”

  After a long chain of classes, Tactical Bomb Diffusion started. Probably the worst time to spy on someone, especially since today was a new lesson. Plus—what keeps Mr. Chiffon from noticing this? He was a spy too.

  But then again, those who can’t do, teach—

  Wait no… then why is he teaching bomb diffusion?

  My overthinking was so intense I didn’t even notice I’d rammed my thigh into a desk once I got through the door. Pain exploded, and I squealed like a malfunctioning kazoo.

  Everyone looked at me—concern level: zero. Amusement level: spiritual.

  I tried to say something, but even my conscience was too embarrassed to help. I slid into my seat, shrinking as small comments spilled through the room:

  “Yo, ain’t that the mole kid?”

  “Man, just eat your lunch and chill.”

  “Bro’s aura just tanked.”

  I cannot describe how pathetic these people were linguistically. And Mole-boy sounds more like a Cocomelon superhero than an insult. I hate that it still bothered me.

  I sat two tables behind Jamal, who was (obviously) sitting by Maddie. Instantly, students shifted seats, dimmed computer screens, and basically acted like Jamal and Maddie were radioactive.

  I plugged in the earphones and equipped the glasses. Immediately, a green matrix effect scanned across my vision before the resolution upgraded like five levels.

  Ooooooooooooooh. Clean.

  I zoomed in on Jamal’s screen. Empty Google Doc. Useless.

  But on another tab? Mage Football. Now that caught my attention.

  “Hm…” he muttered.

  “Hmmmm… what?” Maddie asked, as Mr. Chiffon continued teaching.

  Jamal shot her a warning look—probably trying not to get caught, since the repercussions for talking could be anything here. Anything. Including toilet water.

  “You said something.”

  “I said nothing.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re applying to Mage Football?” Maddie whispered. “You’re way too late—”

  “No I’m not.”

  “Yes you—”

  “Not that. I’m not trying out for Mage Football. Connor is.”

  My heart paused.

  “So what?” she asked.

  “He may have offended one—or some—of his teammates.”

  “Malachi is also his teammate,” Maddie said. “So maybe Connor offended Malachi, and you know how many friends Malachi has. He probably sent a couple guys after him.”

  “Those which I didn’t recognize,” he added.

  “There’s like a billion people here,” Maddie said. “And who knows how many are from other states. Most of our friends aren’t even local. Why do you want to help him so badly?”

  My heart tightened. This was it. The motive. The truth. The answer of the century.

  Jamal exhaled. “Now, as much as I’d love for Connor to be unalived as much as the next person, I’d rather him annoy me every day than me be dead because they think I’m the mole instead. I’m telling you—they are suspicious. Plus, the MP from this would be insane.”

  I froze.

  This selfish, inconsiderate toe-sucker was only doing it because—well… I mean, he had a point. But what do you mean by as much as the next person?

  Going to the bathroom that day when I saw those three buffoons might be top five worst regrets of my life.

  Maddie sighed, nodding slowly. “When’s the first Mage Football game?”

  Jamal’s eyes widened.

  “Mmmmmmmmm,” he hummed, pure excitement radiating. “Facts!”

  “Facts about what?” she asked.

  “We can see who has a vendetta against him based on how they play against Connor that day.”

  “Uh… no. Because it would make more sense if we made it where Connor tried to cause something in that game. It’s a mass event.”

  Jamal went from excitement to bafflement instantly.

  “Listen. I mean like—we’ll do something that affects the games. Because you exposed him as the mole, and now he’s trying to put it back on you. Remember when I told you about how he and his buddies tried to take me and Elf down? I almost thought Malachi was with them too..." Maddie corrected.

  “Yeah, but Connor’s on the case,” Jamal replied. “At least that’s what Principal Renner would say.”

  “But—but—but—now he’s on the Mage Football team. And it’s a mass event. You can use that to your advantage. What we need to do is make something happen.”

  Jamal lit up again. “Facts!”

  Maddie shushed him—but too late. Mr. Chiffon was already glaring.

  “I’m gonna need you two to stop, alright? Because I’m sure that just not talking and paying attention is a lot better than being blown up by a bomb.”

  Jamal nodded and mouthed, “Facts.”