Monday, May 13

  Library

  Mission: Spend MP Funds

  15:09

  “You’re aware you’re going to miss class, right?” Tisiah asked, giving me that look he reserves exclusively for moments where he wants to feel morally superior.

  We were walking toward the library. The entrance stood right ahead—less packed than usual—but still filled with the lingering heat of too many people existing in one semi-carpeted room. The gray carpet had turned into a collage of footprints, dirt, and shoes that looked like they’d been through wars.

  “Yeah,” I said, “but I’m sure Mr. Robbs sleeps better with a ‘mole’ not sitting in his class. I was going to talk to Malachi afterward, but apparently that’s the wrong move. Isn’t that right, Mari?”

  Mari didn’t even look at me. “Why would you talk to him? He’s not going to offer anything we don’t already know. What we need to do is wait until the tryouts game and report anything that happens.”

  “And what if nothing happens?” I asked.

  “Something will. I’m sure of it.”

  She said that with the confidence of a prophet who just got handed the script of the universe.

  We reached the machine in the center. Three people were ahead of us, and I swear each one took thirty full minutes, like they were applying for magical college loans.

  Finally—finally—it was my turn.

  I slid my wand into the slot. The interface hummed, synced, and then popped open my MP homepage. I wanted something combat-related this time. The binoculars and earbuds already covered the spy stuff pretty well.

  I had the knives.

  I had the purple bolt.

  But then there was the ability.

  The one sitting on the sidebar like a glowing treasure chest.

  Cost: 1900 MP.

  I didn’t even blink. I bought it immediately.

  The machine spun the wand in a blue glow, humming lightly before stopping. No fancy sparkles, no dramatic boom, no angelic choir. It didn’t even look different.

  But trust me—it was there. It felt heavier. Stronger. Mine.

  “That was quick,” Mari said, unimpressed.

  “See what happens when you let me choose?” I shot back.

  Then I instantly regretted it when she gave me a stare so fierce a lion would’ve apologized.

  17:06

  It didn’t help that Mari was also in this class as well, since I wanted to try and tell Nikki what Mari said without Mari hearing. But with all honesty, she probably would hear anyway with whatever gadgets she had donned on her wand.

  Bars.

  “Nikki,” I whispered.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  She didn’t hear me. Somehow, the girl who can hear a mosquito sneeze across a battlefield was deafened by one lecture.

  Master Tiphe was talking about foot placement, leverage, and how to unbalance an enemy—one of her favorite topics. No push-ups, no lunges. The perfect time to talk.

  “Nikki!” I hissed again, slightly louder.

  “Keep your voice down,” Nikki muttered, still laser-focused on Tiphe. “What is it?”

  “It’s about Jamal and them.”

  “Huh. Did you ask Malachi for updates?”

  “Well, that’s the issue. Mari has a plan. It makes sense, but it’s not exactly what we wanted.”

  “And that is?”

  “We wait until the tryouts game,” I said. “If something happens, it’s good evidence—especially if they get past the extra security. If not… then we move from there.”

  Nikki’s jaw tightened. “Why do you guys listen to her? I swear she acts like she’s the only one with a functioning brain.”

  “It’s our best bet. But why can’t we talk to Malachi? What if he knows someth—”

  “He doesn’t,” Mari snapped from the end of the line. She somehow heard us from fifteen feet away. “This is our mission. So whatever secret conversation you’re having, stop.”

  “That doesn’t make it any less of a terrible plan,” Nikki said—at full volume.

  The room fell silent.

  Master Tiphe slowly turned like a horror movie villain. “Nikki,” she said calmly, “is your knowledge of the combative system so vast that you’d rather chat with your inferior than listen to class?”

  Nikki froze. I’d never seen her so pale. The class went so quiet I could hear birds chirping outside and the subtle crunch of leaves.

  Tiphe looked at her watch, then at us, then back at her watch. “Alright. Nikki feels we haven’t trained enough. Give me a three-minute plank. If you fall, you fail today’s assessment.”

  The class erupted in groans.

  Tiphe raised a brow. “Five minutes?”

  “No, no, no, no, no!”

  “Then get into position.”

  Everyone dropped faster than gravity could explain. Nikki looked like she wanted to evaporate.

  Saturday

  At this point, the mole case wasn’t the mystery—the real mystery was how the locker room STILL smelled like Axe, sweat, urine, and humidity mixed into one horrifying scent. The blue lockers glistened like someone wiped them down with moist disappointment. The locks were so slick they might as well have been made of soap.

  Malachi was on one side of me.

  Tisiah on the other.

  This formation did not make me feel safe.

  Mike and Mikey entered. Seconds later, Danne Livingston emerged from the crowd like a movie villain making his entrance. His eyes locked onto the twins instantly.

  “Hey, Danne,” Mike said, smirking.

  Danne didn’t say hello. Instead, he lunged forward. A ripple went through the locker room as guys crowded around him.

  “No, no—don’t hurt your boyfriend now,” someone teased.

  “Shush, would you?” Danne snapped.

  The crowd laughed before slowly drifting back to their lockers—but you could tell they were reliving the memory of Danne and Mike’s last fight like a sports highlight reel.

  I was too.

  And then Danne approached us.

  Or rather—he approached me and Tisiah. Malachi wasn’t on the hit list today.

  “Final day before tryouts, huh?” he said, adjusting his glasses. His tone carried that fake politeness people use when they’re seconds away from violence.

  Tisiah nodded automatically.

  “I expected a voice,” Danne pushed.

  “Yes,” Tisiah said stiffly. “Are… you excited?”

  Danne grinned. “If you’re our offensive lineman, then I’m thrilled. This mass”—he tapped his chest—“isn’t letting anybody through.”

  Behind me, I heard a sputtering sound. I turned to see Malachi walking away, failing miserably to hide his laughter.

  “Leave him alone, alright?” I told Danne. “Or do I need to call Mike again?”

  “Bartt—Bartt—Bartt,” Danne said mockingly. “You think I don’t have anything to say about you? I’ll beat you black and blue until you turn into a new race. Don’t talk smart.”

  “Try keeping Mike off your back first,” I said. “You seem to enjoy it too much.”

  His eyes twitched with rage. “You can only use that joke for so long, Bartt.”

  “Long… You’d know something about that.”

  “Cute,” he said. “I’ll be the first to visit your prison.”

  That one hit harder than expected.

  My Perk pulsed in my fingertips. My jaw clenched. I wanted to say something—anything—but he smirked at me with those annoyingly perfect teeth, and my brain completely shut down.

  Danne snorted. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He tapped my shoulder. “Attaboy.”

  He strutted off like he just won a major election.

  Footsteps approached again.

  “What happened?” Malachi asked. “Danne, say something?”

  Tisiah turned with wide eyes, nodding slowly.

  Malachi processed that and narrowed his eyes. “To whom?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “We’ve got bigger issues. The last thing we need to stress about is that wildebeest. We need to focus on winning this.”

  “Depends if I and Andre are on your team,” Malachi said. “If not, you’re cooked worse than the grilled cheese September makes.”

  “How do you know how September cooks?” I asked. “Have you been to her house?”

  “No,” he said proudly. “But we did sneak into the cafeteria once. The lunch ladies had no clue.”

  He stopped when he saw our unimpressed faces.

  “Allegedly,” he corrected.