Arden Hayes was not the kind of guy who stood out. Average height, messy brown hair, glasses that slid down his nose no matter how often he pushed them up he was the human equivalent of a background character.
At Willow Creek High, that suited him just fine. Keep your head down, survive gym class, and maybe finish that history essay before Mom started asking questions.
Easy.
Except today, gym class had other plans.
"Heads up, Hayes!" Tim Carver's voice cut through the sweaty chaos of the gymnasium, sharp and mocking. Arden barely had time to register the warning before a dodgeball came screaming toward his face. Red rubber death, launched by the quarterback wannabe who'd made it his mission to turn Arden into a walking target.
Instinct kicked in, bad instinct. Arden ducked, but not fast enough. His sneakers squeaked on the polished floor, his arms flailed, and he braced for the inevitable. A broken nose. A bruised ego. The kind of moment that'd haunt him until graduation. He squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding like a drum solo in his chest.
And then nothing.
No thwack. No sting. No laughter. Just silence.
Arden cracked one eye open, then the other. The dodgeball hung in midair, inches from his nose, frozen like someone had hit pause on a video game. Beyond it, the gym was a still life painting. Tim stood mid-throw, arm cocked back, mouth twisted in a smug grin that hadn't finished forming. Sarah Jenkins, the class gossip, was caught mid-laugh, her ponytail defying gravity in a perfect arc. Coach Daniels' whistle dangled from his lips, motionless.
"What the hell?" Arden's voice trembled, the only sound in the eerie quiet. He reached out, hesitant, and poked the dodgeball with a shaky finger. It didn't budge, like it was glued to the air. His breath hitched. This wasn't real. Couldn't be real.
He counted in his head, a habit from years of anxiety. One, two, three, four, five. Five seconds. Then, like a rubber band snapping, the world jolted back to life.
The dodgeball grazed his cheek, a hot sting blooming across his skin. He stumbled, hitting the floor with a thud as the gym exploded into noise again, squeaking shoes, shouts, the sharp blast of Coach's whistle.
"Nice dodge, klutz!" Tim called, smirking as he jogged off to grab another ball.
"Pay attention, Hayes!" Coach Daniels barked, already turning away.
Arden rubbed his cheek, glasses fogging up from the heat of his own panic. His pulse wouldn't slow. Had he imagined it? Five seconds of… what? A hallucination? Stress-induced insanity? He dragged himself to his feet, ignoring the snickers from the bleachers. Whatever it was, it was over. Done. He'd shake it off.
Except it wasn't that easy.
The rest of the day crawled by in a haze. Algebra blurred into a mess of numbers he couldn't focus on. Lunch was a soggy sandwich he barely tasted. By the time the final bell rang, Arden just wanted to grab his backpack and bolt home to the safety of his room. Maybe play some Skybound Legends and forget the whole dodgeball fiasco.
He was halfway across the parking lot, hoodie up against the crisp March wind, when a voice stopped him cold.
"You're not crazy."
Arden spun around, nearly tripping over his own feet. A girl stood there, hands in the pockets of a black jacket, sharp green eyes locked on him like she could see straight through his skull. She was short, maybe five-foot-nothing, with dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail that looked like it'd been tied in a hurry. He didn't recognize her, not from Willow Creek, at least.
"Uh… what?" Arden blinked, adjusting his glasses.
She stepped closer, boots clicking on the asphalt. "That thing in gym class. The dodgeball. You stopped it, didn't you?"
His stomach dropped. "I didn't, I mean, it didn't hit me, but."
"Don't play dumb." Her smirk was small but sharp, like she'd caught him in a lie he hadn't even told yet. "Time froze. You felt it. Five seconds, right?"
Arden's mouth went dry. "Who are you?"
"Name's Lila Voss." She tilted her head, studying him. "And you, Arden Hayes, just stepped into something way bigger than you realize."
"How do you know my..."
"You're not the subtle type," she cut in, glancing over her shoulder. "Come on. We've got maybe two minutes before they catch up."
"Before who catches up?" Arden's voice cracked, but Lila was already moving, beckoning him toward the edge of the lot where the trees thickened into a scraggly patch of woods.
"Move it, newbie, " she called, not looking back. "You're in trouble now, and I'm your ticket out."
Arden stood there, sneakers rooted to the pavement, mind racing. Trouble? Ticket out? This girl was nuts. He should just turn around, head home, pretend this never happened. But those five seconds, the dodgeball, the silence clawed at him. He hadn't imagined it. And she knew.
With a groan, he adjusted his backpack and jogged after her, the wind biting at his ears. Whatever this was, he had a sinking feeling his average life was about to get a whole lot less average.