Monday, June 25

  Home

  Mission: N/A

  7:14

  “Connor!”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you finished yet?”

  “Yes, Dad,” I replied. “You can come in.”

  I stood by my luggage in the usual uniform—white jacket, black shirt, black pants—because apparently policy includes “in case some random decides to hop on the wrong bus.”

  Dad walked in wearing a white T-shirt, brown pajama pants, and black slides. His hair was scrambled, and he didn’t have his glasses on, which somehow made his eyes look balder than usual.

  “Alright,” he said, scanning me like he was conducting an inspection. “You’re gonna be there the whole month, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you’ve got your T-shirts, regular shirts, pajamas, shorts, pants… all that?”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “And you actually slept for once.”

  “Four hours…” I muttered.

  Dad sighed, rubbing his chin. “I’ll schedule an appointment when you come back.”

  I nodded.

  “Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, sunscreen…” he snapped his fingers, trying to gather his thoughts. “Shoes?”

  I gave him a thumbs-up. He returned one, satisfied. “Alright. You need to be there by 7:20, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  He still stared at me like I hadn’t answered, but then his eyes softened—kind, careful. “Come,” he said, motioning me closer.

  I stepped toward him. He opened his arms and pulled me into a warm hug.

  “It’s gonna be alright,” Dad whispered. “You go be a good kid. We’ll be right here at home when you get back.”

  “I know,” I said, voice tight.

  “Good.” He released me, then nodded toward the stairs. “Now go say goodbye to your mom.”

  I went downstairs and found Mom at the table, holding a small picture—Polaroid-sized. She stared at it with heavy eyes, like it weighed more than paper.

  “Mom?”

  She slowly looked up. A smile tugged at her mouth. “I’m surprised you even turned out this slim. You were so chubby when you were little,” she chuckled. “Your dad was worried I was feeding you too much.”

  “Maybe he was right,” I said. “At least he caught it early.”

  “I never changed how much,” she replied, shrugging. “He was just paranoid.” Her eyes softened. “Made you taller than anything, really.”

  Then she stood and hugged me tight—like rope, like she was anchoring me. It felt like an air mattress pressed against my chest.

  “Please,” she murmured, barely audible, “try not to be a hero there. I still need my son home.”

  She stepped back, hands sliding down my arms. A weak smile crossed her face—and mine.

  “He’s gonna take you any moment now,” she said. “So go. Get back to your luggage.”

  I nodded.

  And I kid you not—the second my fingers touched my suitcase and duffel bag, the floor disappeared.

  A portal swallowed me whole.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  I tripped forward and fell through—

  —and landed in a completely unfamiliar area.

  Not the academy entrance.

  Instead, a towering arch rose above a crowd of students. For a split second, I genuinely wondered if Mr. Drails didn’t send me… or if this was just another sick joke.

  We stood on a road. Ahead, five regular school buses lined up in a row. Staff members with megaphones barked orders, waving their arms like we were about to start tryouts all over again.

  My heart picked up speed.

  Then someone tapped my arm.

  I turned—and glanced down, expecting Tisiah—

  —but found myself looking at September.

  She was taller than him, standing there with a massive backpack and a handbag like she was moving into the wilderness permanently.

  “Are you excited?” she asked.

  “For what?” I blurted.

  Instant regret.

  September furrowed her brows. “Camp,” she said slowly. “The place we’re going to… right now.”

  “Yeah—yeah. I’m really excited,” I said quickly.

  She gave me a blank stare. “So you’re nervous. That’s fair. First time.”

  I didn’t know how she managed to translate four words into my entire emotional state, but she nailed it.

  “I just don’t know what to expect,” I admitted. “Everyone talks about it like it’s this huge thing. I want to have a good time, but…” I exhaled. “I don’t know. Things don’t usually go that way.”

  “It’s nothing,” September said, shrugging. “People still can’t play volleyball to save their lives. Guys who are 5'8 are still trying to dunk. And someone gets into a relationship that lasts exactly one camp.” She smirked. “It’s basically its own reality show at this point.”

  “That sounds stressful.”

  “As long as you’re not the person in the relationship,” she said, “or at least involved in it.”

  “Uh-huh,” I sighed.

  I could already picture myself getting blown up by some angrier-than-average Perk user. Then I looked ahead. We were close to the buses now.

  “Which one are you taking?” I asked.

  “The third,” she said. “It’s the one Malachi’s on.”

  “Uh-huh,” I sighed again—heavier this time.

  As we approached, we spotted staff with large carts. A sign clipped to the edge read: BELONGINGS HERE.

  I placed my duffel bag and suitcase onto the cart. September followed, then we boarded the bus.

  The noise hit my ears like a torpedo.

  Everyone was yelling about something—everything—nothing.

  And then I realized I’d forgotten something important.

  Where were Tisiah and Nikki?

  I stepped back and peered out the window, scanning the crowd. After five seconds, I spotted them—my two knights in casual armor—heading toward our bus.

  I exhaled in relief.

  “Connor?” September asked, noticing my expression shift.

  I looked up and forced a smile. “Yeah. I’m good.”

  She chuckled and shook her head as we moved toward the back. Malachi was already there, along with Mike and Mikey.

  No Jamal. No goons.

  That surprised me, because they usually stuck to him like lint—especially when I was nearby.

  “Hey, what’s good!” Malachi greeted, in the brightest voice I’d ever heard come out of him.

  September stepped in and hugged him.

  I glanced toward the aisle and saw Nikki and Tisiah moving our way. I raised my hand—fully extended, like a flag.

  They stared right at me.

  And still didn’t react.

  I shook my hand aggressively until Nikki tapped Tisiah’s shoulder and pointed. Finally, they made their way back.

  Tisiah noticed Mike and Mikey and gave a quick nod. They returned it.

  “Quick question,” Mikey said, already stressed. “How much luggage did you bring?”

  Tisiah glanced at Nikki like he’d just been assigned a group project. “Uh… one suitcase and a backpack.”

  “See? You overpacked,” Mikey scolded, turning on Mike.

  Mike shook his head. “What are you going to use for dirty clothes then?”

  “A garbage bag,” Mikey snapped. “Like—what?” He threw his hands up. “You cannot possibly be using that much clothing in one day.”

  “Accidents happen, Mikey,” Mike said, facepalming. “I need you to understand that.”

  “Not that often,” Mikey argued. “And a garbage bag can hold a lot.” He pointed at Nikki. “What are you even putting your laundry in?”

  “A duffel bag,” Nikki answered.

  “So it’s empty?” she pressed.

  “Why would it be full?” Mike replied.

  Nikki narrowed her eyes and slowly turned to Tisiah like she had a separate argument waiting for him later.

  Before she could launch it, the bus driver’s voice crackled over the system.

  “Alright—we’re departing to camp. We’ll be there by 11:00. During the trip, no one leaves the bus. If an emergency happens—which it shouldn’t—the bus is bulletproof. If it gets worse than that, there are emergency exits. Stay behind any security accompanying this trip. Understood?”

  “Copy!” everyone shouted.

  I stared blankly, like I was the only person who heard the phrase bulletproof bus and didn’t think it was normal.

  “Good,” the driver continued. “Enjoy the music.”

  The buses rolled forward.

  Obnoxious music blasted. Conversations exploded. I could already imagine myself being forced to use sign language by the time we got to camp.

  We drove out of campus and onto the road.

  Then Mikey leaned forward, practically folding himself in half over the seat in front of him.

  “Hey, Connor.”

  I looked up.

  “What class are you in with Tess?” Mikey asked.

  I froze.

  Because Tess definitely wasn’t in the YMPA, which meant answering that question without saying “APCC” was basically impossible.

  I glanced at Malachi. He lowered his head like, good luck.

  September stared at me in visible confusion.

  Tisiah saved my life.

  “There’s an Arrow Club on weekends,” he said smoothly, like he’d rehearsed it. “When everyone else isn’t at school. It’s junior agents from multiple EMO organizations coming together.”

  I snapped my head toward him, alarm flashing across my face.

  “Arrow Club?” Mike repeated, skeptical.

  “You practice shooting arrows,” Tisiah explained. “Crossbows. Quiet. Lethal.” He nodded solemnly. “At least that’s what Connor told me.”

  I cleared my throat. “I mean… no one expects an arrow, right?” I added quickly. “And it’s gonna be at that one area near camp.”

  “Yeah,” Tisiah said, playing along perfectly. “That one you told me about.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I echoed.

  Then September’s eyebrows lowered.

  “Okay,” she said slowly, “let’s backtrack. Who’s Tess?”