Christian leaned against the hallway wall, barely breathing. His father's voice echoed through the cracked study door. The words were muffled, but a few phrases cut through the silence like blades.
"Yes, it's ready. The vessel is in place. We'll initiate once the hallucinogenic surge peaks..."
Christian's brows furrowed. Vessel? Surge? His grip tightened around the strap of his bag. Then came the final blow:
"Divine energy doesn't last long on Earth. We must act before it begins to corrupt the system."
A cold wave crashed through Christian's chest. Before he could push the door open, the screen his father had been speaking into abruptly blacked out. His father turned sharply.
"Christian," he said with a practiced calm. "How long have you been standing there?"
Christian swallowed. "Just got in. Door was open."
"You shouldn't eavesdrop. It's rude."
Christian nodded slowly, eyes lingering on the now-dark screen. "Right. Sorry."
---
The Next Morning
Semira barely spoke during her shift at Stephanie's bar the previous night. She'd wiped tables with too much enthusiasm, kept calling aprons "sacred cloths," and tried to bless a cocktail shaker. Stephanie, kind but firm, just handed her another rag and told her to keep working.
Now, in the early morning light, Semira sat upright in bed, hair wild, eyes wide.
"I had a vision," she whispered to herself.
A great temple had stretched before her, sky splitting with thunder. A robed figure emerged, face veiled in celestial fire. "Blend in, child," the figure intoned. "Do not speak your origin again. Too many eyes are watching."
Her chest rose and fell. "Okay... no more 'Book of Life' or 'celestial spoon' talk. Be low-key. Normal. Semira. Human."
Mara rolled over in her bed. "You okay? You look like you just fought a tornado."
"I was visited by a flaming—" Semira stopped. "Never mind. I'm fine."
Clara, who was adjusting her headset, scoffed. "Good. Just don't do anything embarrassing today. We already went through Screen-Licking Saga yesterday."
Semira nodded solemnly. "No licking. No sacred items. Got it."
---
At School
Christian looked like he hadn't slept. He leaned against the vending machine while his sister Rebecca argued with a senior over who controlled the student podcast.
"You can't just rename it to 'Rebecca's Real Talk' without the team's consent!"
"Democracy is overrated," she shrugged. "I'm rebranding."
Christian gave a dry chuckle and turned away, his thoughts still clouded by his father's cryptic call. A whisper of something bigger was brewing — and it wasn't just school drama.
In class, Kim glanced over at Semira, who was staring intently at her pencil like it was a holy artifact. When she caught him watching, she whispered, "What kind of branch is this? So evenly shaped… have trees advanced in this era?"
Kim choked on his laughter. "It's a pencil. Just a pencil."
"Amazing," she whispered, reverent.
Before Kim could reply, the intercom buzzed.
"All students are to gather in the auditorium after lunch. Mandatory announcement. Failure to attend results in detention."
Semira's hand shot up.
The teacher groaned. "Yes, Semira."
"What is an auditorium?"
The class burst into laughter. Clara slammed her head on the desk.
Aria, meanwhile, narrowed her eyes. The attention on Semira — again. Even Kim was laughing with her now. Her hands curled into fists under the table.
---
Lunchtime Drama
At lunch, Semira accidentally poured apple juice into her soup.
"It's called fusion cuisine," she said proudly, holding it up like a potion.
"It's called disgusting," Clara replied.
But Kim just grinned. "I mean, innovation has to start somewhere."
"You're not helping," Clara hissed.
Aria sat across the cafeteria, watching. Her perfect makeup was untouched. But inside, something was boiling. She pulled out her phone and typed a quick message. Minutes later, the school archive firewall received a hack request.
---
Detention Surprise
Later that day, just before the announcement, Semira was called to the principal's office. A note had been found in her bag — an anonymous printout of next week's math test. The principal's face was grave.
"We have zero tolerance for cheating. Until we investigate, you'll serve detention. Effective immediately."
Semira blinked. "I don't even know what a cheat is!"
The principal sighed. "Save it for detention."
Christian and Kim were both in the hallway when they saw her being escorted.
"What happened?" Kim asked.
"She's not even the type," Christian muttered. "She can't lie to save her life."
Kim looked troubled. "She looked confused."
---
The Competition Reveal
In the auditorium, the principal stood before the students. Beside her, a banner read: Annual Grand Academy Tournament: Teams of Three.
"You'll be competing in trios across multiple disciplines. From science to sports, coding to performance. Winners get full scholarships and exemption from final exams."
Murmurs erupted.
Christian crossed his arms. Kim looked at him.
"Should we team up?"
Christian's gaze drifted to the empty seat where Semira should've been. "Maybe. But she's in detention now."
---
At Detention
Semira sat cross-legged on the detention room table, humming.
"Please sit normally," the teacher said.
"I am. In my culture, this is deeply respectful."
"This is America. Sit."
She dropped her legs, pouting. Just then, Kim appeared at the door.
"Principal said I could deliver her worksheets," he lied.
The teacher waved him in.
Kim crouched next to her. "You okay?"
Semira nodded. "I didn't cheat. I swear. Someone framed me."
"I know," he said quietly. "We'll fix it."
She looked up at him, eyes soft.
Christian, outside the room, called Kim. The call rang out unanswered.
---
After School
Outside the school gates, Kim sat alone near the edge of the garden where he often tinkered with circuit boards. Christian's call buzzed again. Kim sighed and silenced it.
His mind returned to Semira. She didn't belong in detention. There was something… magnetic about her.
That evening, he returned home to Desmonda.
"Grandma," he said, voice uncertain, "What do you know about… ancient beings?"
She looked up from her meditation, her eyes sharp.
"Why do you ask?"
"There's this girl. Semira. She's… different."
Desmonda stood slowly, walking to her cabinet. She opened it and removed a faded scroll.
"Be careful with different, Kim. Sometimes, it's a blessing. Sometimes, a warning."
Later that night, Christian stood shirtless in the garage, a wrench in one hand, his other hand wiping sweat from his jaw as he admired the custom engine he'd just finished modding. The car was his escape — a beast of chrome and fire that he built with his own hands. It roared like a living thing.
He checked the time and was about to head inside when his phone buzzed.
1 New Message. Unknown Number.
He frowned, wiped his greasy fingers on his jeans, and opened it.
> "Meet me. Midnight. No questions."
There was no name, just a location pin — an abandoned building on the far end of Lincoln Park.
Christian stared at it for a long second. The light flickered above him. In the reflection on his car's hood, he could almost swear he saw a shape — faint, hazy — standing behind him for a split second before disappearing.
He whipped around.
Nothing.
But something deep in his gut twisted.