The buzzing overhead lights hummed with a kind of brain-dead rhythm, and Cal sat in the middle of the third row from the back, eyes fixed on the board but seeing absolutely none of it. Mr. Devon's voice droned on from the front of the room, scribbling formulas and phrases in jagged loops across the whiteboard, but Cal's focus was elsewhere far elsewhere.
The desks were lined up in neat rows, students pretending to take notes while texting beneath the table. A normal school day in Halcroft High. Nothing particularly unusual. Except for the fact that Cal had apparently awakened to a power. He hadn't told anyone yet, not really. He'd only texted Nate and even then it was a vague, half-assed warning that probably made him sound like he was sleep-deprived and horny. Which, to be fair, he kind of was.
Cal leaned back in his seat, arms crossed loosely, his eyes unfocused. The moment kept replaying in his head like a glitchy loop. The bat. His hand. The feeling. It wasn't like grabbing something. It was like… calling it.
He furrowed his brows.
He'd somehow called a bat towards him?
That line stuck. It didn't even feel real. It wasn't like telekinesis or maybe it was? No, not exactly. It didn't feel like he'd pulled it through the air. It felt like it just appeared. His pencil rolled off his desk, and he didn't even move to pick it up.
Could he… call anything?
Like… anything?
His lips twitched slightly.
What about panties?
The intrusive thought hit him with full force, and he internally slapped himself, eyes quickly darting around to make sure no one could read his mind through his face. But the idea lingered.
Was there a limit to what he could summon?
The bat came because someone was holding it. Did it have to be visible? Did it have to be unattended? Was it proximity-based? Cal didn't know the rules. No one had handed him a manual titled So You're a Newly Awakened Arbiter.
He imagined sitting in this exact seat, focusing hard on a locker across the school, and then—
No. No. Bad idea.
…But also maybe a good experiment?
His stomach knotted with the mixture of curiosity and shame especially given the fact that for a few seconds he had imagined so hardly; panties flying into his palm.
He had to fight back a smirk. He needed to test this power. He needed to talk to Nate.
He needed to not imagine anymore underwears right now, but then his brain was a traitor.
He glanced across the classroom, spotting her two rows diagonally in front of him. Becky Hangston. Queen of the cheer squad. Tight shirt. Short skirt. Hair up in a lazy bun that made her neck look ridiculously soft. Her legs were crossed and bouncing slightly, her pen twirling between her fingers as she took neat, color-coded notes. Cal couldn't see much cleavage from this angle, but he knew what was underneath. His imagination filled the blanks way too easily.
The bell rang.
Cal didn't even remember half the lesson. Probably should've paid attention. He slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way toward the hallway, the tide of students dragging him forward.
He hadn't even reached his locker before he heard her voice.
"Hey."
He stopped, turned, and there she was—again.
Becky stood just a few steps away, arms folded under her chest, lips pressed into a sort of half-smile, half-frown. Her eyes scanned his face, and she stepped a little closer.
"Got a second?"
Cal blinked. "Uh. Yeah. Totally."
Her tone was soft now. "I wanted to say thanks again."
At this point she was totally pushing it as if she was looking for a means to kickstart a conversation
He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off, almost as if she was scared she wouldn't say it if she didn't rush.
"I was scared," she said. "Like… really scared. And I don't even remember seeing you come over until suddenly—boom. You had the bat."
Cal tensed. "Yeah… about that…"
"What did you do?" she asked, not accusing, more curious than anything.
He swallowed. "Honestly? I don't know. I just..."
Cal couldn't make up anymore words cause truthfully he still was flustered; from the bat incident to the shady woman who came in through his window.
Becky's eyes lingered on him. She was trying to figure him out, to see if he was just messing with her.
"Well," she finally said, smiling a little. "Whatever you did, it worked. Those guys freaked."
"Lucky timing," he said lamely.
Becky smiled again, this time more genuine. "Still. I've known you since freshman year. And I've never seen you do anything remotely heroic."
Cal laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, well. I'm full of surprises."
She looked like she was about to say something else—but then her friends showed up around the corner, waving her down.
Becky hesitated.
Then, in a low voice, almost conspiratorial, she said, "You should take football a bit more serious."
Cal blinked. "What?"
She stepped closer, close enough that her perfume hit him—something light and floral, but completely intoxicating.
"You've got good hands," she whispered, and then gave him a wink before turning and walking away.
Cal stood there like an idiot, jaw slightly slack.
What the hell just happened?
⸻
The moment stuck in his brain all the way home.
It looped more vividly than the bat scene. Becky. That wink. The way she said "good hands."
He flopped onto his bed the second he got back, face buried in the pillow.
Was this what awakening to a power felt like? Hormones mixed with delusion?
He grabbed his phone, thumbed through his messages, looking for Brawns forbrains; which was what he saved Nate's contact as. Cal still hadn't told him about the event's of yesterday and unfortunately Nate wasn't in school either today
Nah.. I'd rather tell him in person.
Cal thought to himself, deciding to leave the full details of the story till he met Nate face to face. So he opened his browser instead, and began digging again. Anything on Arbiters. Any hint at how the abilities worked.
But the net was scrubbed.
Almost every article he clicked led to sanitized, boring summaries. Things like "Powers may manifest differently between individuals" and "Arbiters must register with The Ledger upon manifestation." There were vague mentions of "power types"—physical, mental, elemental, distortion-based—but nothing specific. No examples. No guides.
He scrolled down and down, into older forums, posts long abandoned. Then something odd caught his eye.
"Stolen things aren't always objects. Sometimes, they're actions."
That line was part of an old forum thread, buried deep. It didn't explain anything, but it felt… relevant.
He leaned back, reading it again and again.
Was that what he did? Stole the action of hitting someone? No… that didn't feel right.
He attempted to steal a bat.? That much felt was clear.
But how?
What if it wasn't just objects?
What if the line was right?
The bat came because he wanted it. Desperately.
What if desire played into this?
He felt the danger. He felt the need. Something in his brain had snapped—and the universe handed him what he needed. He turned off the screen and let the room go quiet again, ceiling fan humming above.
Something inside him had changed. And he had no idea what the hell came next.
⸻
Elsewhere in Halcroft, someone was watching him.Not through a camera. Not through binoculars, but from rooftops. A shadow shifted beneath the city's orange nightlights, coat flicking in the wind. Long legs, curves, and a soft smirk curling on crimson lips.
Selene Virelle.
She adjusted the comm in her ear. "Yeah. It's definitely him."
A static reply.
"You sure?" a male voice replied. "I thought the pulse was barely detectable."
"Exactly," Selene said, eyes gleaming. "That's what makes him interesting."
Another pause. "Do we know the power yet?"
"No." Her smile grew. "But it's going to be fun finding out."
Then, like a flicker of shadow, she disappeared from the rooftop, melting into the night. Cal had no idea.
But the world of Arbiters was already turning toward him.