Friday, June 15

  YMPA — Cafeteria

  Mission: N/A

  15:15

  “Camp?” I repeated.

  Tisiah and Nikki both furrowed their brows. They glanced at each other for a couple seconds, then their expressions softened into the same look—oh… right.

  “He doesn’t know.”

  “Yeah. Forgot about that.”

  “Feels like he’s been here the whole time.”

  “You wanna tell him, or—”

  “You explain it better—”

  “Guys,” I called, cutting through their whisper-argument. They both snapped their attention back to me.

  “Oh—yeah,” Tisiah said, clearing his throat like he was about to deliver a presentation. “So basically, in July, YMPA transfers to a campsite somewhere in the woods. Unidentified. Even we don’t know where it is. Since the school year ends, like… next week, we do special classes and training at camp.”

  “Is there even such a thing as a break?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Nikki said. “That’s what August is for.”

  “So school starts in September—”

  “Ayyyyyyyyy!” the siblings erupted at the same time, cackling like only people with the same blood type can.

  Tisiah waved a hand. “Excuse us. Yes. It starts in September.”

  “And we only get one month off,” I said, “despite everything that’s happened?”

  “Sounds about right,” Nikki replied.

  “But if I’m being honest,” Tisiah added, “camp is basically a break month anyway. No grades. Just cool stuff to learn. Activities. Training that actually feels fun.” He leaned in, eyes bright. “It’s the perfect backdrop for you and September to hang out before September starts.”

  “Starts doing what?” Nikki asked.

  Tisiah gave her a long, exhausted stare.

  Before he could answer, the PA system crackled to life.

  “May Connor come to the office, please. May Connor come to the office, please.”

  I looked around automatically, like there were a bunch of Connors hidden in the cafeteria. A couple people stood—one of them a giant of a guy who had to be at least 6’5.

  Then the speaker popped again.

  “Connor D. Please come to the office.”

  Everyone else sat back down.

  I stood.

  A few eyes tracked me. Not everyone cared—obviously—but enough people noticed to make my skin feel weird.

  I made my way out: through the grand lobby, up the polished stairs, down the left hallway—gold letters shining on the door:

  OFFICE.

  I knocked three times.

  “Come in!” a sharp voice called.

  I opened the door.

  Principal Renner sat behind her desk like she’d been waiting for this moment all day. Her hair was twisted into a perfectly rolled bun, and she wore a brown suit set: checkered blazer, matching skirt, crisp white button-up, slick black shoes. Her glasses sat on her nose like they were glued there. Papers were stacked so neatly it looked staged.

  “Sit down, please,” she said.

  I sat.

  She removed her glasses and folded her hands on the desk—calm, composed, interrogation-adjacent.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “How have you been, Connor?” she asked.

  Her tone didn’t even try to be friendly.

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Fair enough.” She nodded once, like she’d checked a box. “According to Mr. Drails, based on the absolute… crapshow that occurred a month ago, you demonstrated a rather special power. Through your wand, you managed to manifest a different side of your Perk. A blue side, perhaps.”

  I blinked. “Am I in trouble for that?”

  Renner stared at me. “Would it make sense for you to be in trouble for that?”

  “No.”

  “So probably not,” she replied, unfazed. “Rather, he wants you—or, more accurately, he has registered you—to be part of the APCC.”

  “Is that a new agency?” I asked.

  “I’d hope not,” she said dryly. “It’s a special class. The Advanced Perk Control Course. Specialists like you will be trained to control their Perks to the best of their ability.” She paused. “It’s usually reserved for graduating juniors only. But Mr. Drails has decided you are a… special case.”

  “So does anyone know that I’m—”

  “No. Of course not,” Principal Renner cut in. “To everyone else, you’re just a graduating junior agent. Keep it that way. Try not to say too much, or they’ll sniff you out.”

  I nodded.

  Honestly… I wasn’t even mad about it.

  If I was going to survive this hellhole called the spy-mage world, it would probably help if I could handle my Perk like a skilled knife—or at least a precise bomb.

  “He plans to start you in these sessions by the time camp begins,” Renner said. “Yes, we do have camp. Correct?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Good. When camp starts, your classes will run early in the morning before everything else.” Her tone hardened. “Keep quiet. Do your job. Graduating juniors are far more attentive than you think.”

  I nodded again.

  She closed her eyes and sighed like I’d exhausted her entire soul. “You’re good to go.”

  I stood immediately.

  As I reached for the door, she added, “Class starts in two minutes.”

  “I… know,” I muttered.

  15:20

  Mr. Robbs was at it again with the outfits.

  Velvet suit. Black tie. White shirt. Like he was on his way to a red-carpet event instead of teaching spy teenagers.

  He had a motto: Confidence is key to a successful mission.

  He wasn’t wrong… but I still wasn’t sure a fresh outfit made you a better spy. Just because you feel good doesn’t mean you are good.

  But what can I say? He’s the teacher. Not me.

  And he wasn’t even the focus.

  September was.

  She walked in wearing the uniform—because she technically had to—but of course she added her own touch: a hoodie layered into it like she was physically incapable of dressing like everyone else.

  It was summer, and she still looked like she belonged in a storm.

  I scrambled up the lecture hall steps toward the row she was heading for.

  I made it halfway before she looked up and locked onto me.

  “Not going anywhere, Connor,” she said.

  I froze mid-step. “What makes you say that?”

  “You’re running,” she said. “Class just started.”

  “God forbid I’m happy to see someone,” I shot back.

  She laughed, closed the distance, and without warning pulled me into a hug.

  “Good to see you too,” she murmured.

  It felt like getting wrapped in three blankets at once.

  “How’s therapy?” I asked when she let go.

  “More painful than getting shot in the leg,” she groaned. “Can’t even do what I literally attend this school for.”

  “Sitting in classrooms?”

  “Doing missions. Participating in operations. Being able to do a normal kick,” she said, exhaling hard. “Frickin’ kneecaps.”

  I looked down, jaw tight. “Sorry for dragging you into that mess.”

  September scoffed, shaking her head. “What are you apologizing for? You didn’t shoot me in the legs, did you?”

  I opened my mouth—

  Then closed it.

  Fair point.

  “It’s better to go through physical therapy,” she added, quieter, “than mourn that you didn’t do enough to save someone.”

  “You didn’t need to,” I said. “It wasn’t your mission or anything.”

  “But the fact that I could have helped and didn’t?” She shrugged. “That would’ve bothered me.” Her eyes flicked over me. “And look at you—you’re apologizing for something you didn’t even do.”

  Then she rested a hand on my left arm, thumb brushing lightly—slow, grounding.

  “You did alright, Connor.”

  My face tried to split into a smile so wide it should’ve been illegal. I wrestled it down into an awkward chuckle, because my brain did not know what to do with that sentence.

  “Thanks, September.”

  “Thanks for what—?”

  A voice cut in behind us.

  We turned.

  Malachi stood there with his arms crossed, eyes bouncing between the two of us like he was scoring points. The room was filling up now, students sliding into seats, but Mr. Robbs was still lurking in whatever secret corner teachers spawn from.

  “Last mission we—I did,” I corrected quickly. “She helped me a little.”

  “You talking about the mole one?” Malachi asked, brows lowered.

  My stomach dropped. I flicked my gaze around immediately, hoping nobody heard.

  By some miracle, it looked like everyone had invisible earmuffs today.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Yeah,” Malachi said, nodding like he was giving a performance review. “That was a crazy mission, September. The way you got everyone to safety during that attack… I didn’t even go to those levels.” His eyes slid to me. “Ain’t that right, Connor?”

  I almost shook my head—pure reflex.

  But then Malachi’s eyes sharpened into that focused doom-stare, the kind that made you feel like your future was being graded.

  I nodded.

  He nodded back—harder.

  September chuckled. “Yeah. Trust me, I’d know.”

  “You weren’t there, though,” Malachi replied.

  September tilted her head. “I hear things, Malachi.”

  Malachi rubbed his chin and let out a quiet laugh. “Whatever you say.” He glanced up the rows. “I’ll be on the third row, by the way.”

  “That’s very far from Mr. Robbs, don’t you think?” September asked, eyes narrowing.

  Malachi smiled. “That’s the point, September.”

  From below, Tisiah shouted, “Yo—Connor!”

  I grimaced.

  Malachi glanced down at him, then back at me, then nodded toward the stairs like he was narrating an obvious documentary. “I think he’s waiting for you.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I figured.”

  I headed down the steps.

  Behind me, September and Malachi drifted so far back you’d think they’d wandered into a different class entirely.

  But the closer I got to Tisiah…

  …the more I saw the eager excitement on his face.