They stepped into the building. Water squeaked out of their shoes onto the tile. The fluorescent lights buzzed the same off-white buzz as yesterday, and Lisa noticed that someone had propped the office door open with a box of copier paper. A janitor pushed a cart past them and nodded, like nothing in this place had ever moved fast.

  Students flowed around them in groups. Some talked about homework. Others compared the precise number of minutes until the bell that wasn’t on any official schedule. Lisa caught a snatch of whispered argument about whether the north stairwell safe rooms had three doors or four. It felt like gossip about a TV show—who was dating who, who died last week—except the TV was them.

  She followed Theo through the lobby, shaking a few droplets from her sleeves. The school felt liminal, not quite real yet, maybe it was the rain, or the silence beneath the murmur of voices. Near the front office, a secretary with her hair pulled back and cat-eye glasses clicked away at a keyboard.

  Theo nudged Lisa with his elbow. “Don’t look now, but you’re famous.”

  “What?”

  He pointed to the whiteboard easel propped up behind the front desk. It listed appointments for the day. Most were scribbled student names next to guidance or nurse. One line was sharp and printed in blue marker:

  11:15 - Bell, L. (Meeting w/ Mr. Calder)

  Lisa blinked. “This can’t be right. I didn’t sign up for anything.”

  The secretary looked up. “Lisa Bell?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Mr. Calder requested to see you during second period. You’re expected.”

  Lisa glanced at Theo, who was suddenly busy reading a hallway poster on fire drill etiquette. Her stomach sank. It felt like a summons, like a court date. But she managed a polite nod. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t be late,” the secretary said. “He doesn’t like waiting.”

  They moved away from the front office.

  “Why would Calder ask for me?” Lisa muttered.

  Theo kept walking. “Calder has a habit of showing himself where he’s least wanted.”

  She glanced down at the slip again. 11:15. Way too close to the bell.

  “Maybe it’s about my mom,” she said quietly. “He probably called after what happened yesterday—”

  Theo stopped and turned, serious now. “Are you out of your mind?” He checked the hall, then looked back at her. “Don’t ever bring your parents into this. Not the teachers, not anyone outside.”

  Lisa hesitated. “I didn’t. I haven’t said anything.”

  He watched her a moment longer, then nodded and started walking again. “Then it’s probably nothing. Just… convenient timing.”

  They fell back into step. Lisa turned the hall pass over in her hands. “Convenient timing, huh?” She gave him a sidelong look. “Careful, you’re starting to sound like Gary.”

  Theo snorted. “Please. If I wanted to sound like him, I’d start tossing math symbols around until somebody begged for mercy.”

  Lisa laughed and shoved his shoulder. “Jerk. You just stood there and let him run his mouth at me.”

  Theo bumped her back, grinning. “Oh, so you were listening. Just not doing anything about it.”

  “Of course I was listening.” She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smile. “I heard all about the Order and their brain-nerd gibberish. Doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

  Theo groaned. “Figures. That’s exactly what I’d expect from someone so… unreliable.”

  She shot him a look, still grinning. “Occasionally useful.”

  He smirked and nudged her again. “Outlier.”

  The science wing opened wide and quiet, fluorescent lights buzzing like flies. They reached a side door marked ‘STORAGE – AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY’.

  Theo knocked twice.

  A moment later, the door cracked open. Juno peeked out.

  “We good?”

  “Rain check. Literally,” Theo said, stepping in.

  Lisa followed. Inside, the room was lined with battered lab stools, old chemical tanks, and stacked cardboard boxes labeled with years. One corner had been turned into a bunker of desks, chairs, and a pinned-up map of the school covered in post-its and strings.

  Juno chewed gum like it owed her money. “You left your umbrella at home, Bell. Rookie move.”

  “Hi to you too.”

  “Got you something.” Juno pulled out a small brass key and tossed it. Lisa caught it.

  “Your pass,” Juno said. “To here. In case you ever need a hole to crawl into when things get loud out there. Don’t lose it. There aren’t many spares.”

  Lisa turned the key in her hand.

  “This where the cool kids hide now?”

  “Our headquarters,” Theo corrected, already moving toward the corner. He swept a hand across the stacked desks. “It doesn’t look like much, but it’s what we’ve got. Every team has some kind of fallback. Ours just happens to have better gear.”

  He knelt beside a stack of heavy black batteries, each plugged into a web of cords. The plastic casings hummed faintly.

  “They’re supposed to charge during the Game,” he said. “Every bell resets them. Right now, we’re topping them off early, just in case. Think of it as our power bank for everything else.”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Lisa crouched down beside him. “Everything else?”

  Theo pointed toward the wall socket where a small, boxy radio was patched in with electrical tape and wires. “Communication. Once recess hits, we’re testing the range. Javi and Amir will set up in two other rooms, and we’ll see if we can stay connected without burning through battery life.”

  Lisa blinked at the tangle of cords. “That’s kinda impressive.” She glanced back at him. “You really did all that yourself?”

  “Modified it,” Theo said, brushing it off like it was no big deal.

  He stood and crossed to the desk again, where an empty space cleared of dust seemed meant for something bigger.

  “And after we check comms,” he added, “I’ll test the cameras.”

  Lisa glanced around the bunker. No screens, no monitors, no TVs. “With what? Don’t tell me you’re hiding a flat-screen under those boxes.”

  Theo gave her a look, then unzipped his bag. From inside, he pulled out a sleek tablet, the same one from the park meeting.

  “This,” he said, setting it down carefully. The screen lit up with a grid of static windows. “Took me dozens of hours to assemble, four days running inside the Game before I knew it worked. But it works. Still needs some fine-tuning, but…” He tapped the glass, and one of the fuzzy squares flickered into a hallway view. “…almost there.”

  Lisa leaned closer, eyes wide. “That’s amazing, Theo.” A short laugh escaped her. “Hard to believe you made all this in here.”

  “Where else?” Theo said. “It’s not like Best Buy has a section for surviving eldritch recess monsters.”

  Juno hopped up to sit on one of the desks, crossing her arms. “So here’s how it goes: both of you hole up here during the bell. I’ll guard the door, you run your tests. If the comms start acting weird, I’ll slip out and check the fallback rooms while you keep things steady. Clean, simple.”

  Theo hesitated. Lisa shot him a quick look. The glance stayed there, enough that Juno caught it. She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

  Lisa bit her lip. “I’ve got a… complication?”

  Theo sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Calder called her in. Meeting. Right before the break.”

  The gum in Juno’s mouth popped sharp. She slid off the desk. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Calder? Now?”

  Lisa spread her hands helplessly. “I didn’t ask for it.”

  “That’s the point, he asked for you.” Juno’s voice climbed. She paced once, then stopped, stabbing a finger at Theo. “You knew about this?”

  “I found out ten minutes ago.”

  “And you didn’t think maybe to lead with that?”

  Lisa winced. “I thought maybe it was nothing—”

  “Nothing?” Juno cut in, her gum snapping like a firecracker. “You don’t just walk into Calder’s office ‘nothing.’ That man shows up when he smells blood.”

  Theo’s jaw tightened. “You think scaring her helps? Because right now all you’re doing is making it worse.”

  Juno’s head snapped toward him. “Oh, I’m sorry. Should I start handing out lollipops and say everything’s fine? That what you want?”

  “It’d beat your doom-and-gloom routine.”

  She barked a laugh, sharp and humorless. “Yeah, sure. Next time the Moner’s chewing through a door, I’ll make sure to whisper ‘positive affirmations’.”

  Both of them fell quiet for half a while, glaring at each other. The buzz of the lights suddenly became louder.

  Lisa gripped the brass key in her fist. “So… what do we do?”

  Before anyone could answer, the bell shrieked overhead.

  Lisa’s stomach clenched. The slip in her pocket, the key in her hand, they all suddenly felt too flimsy.

  Juno noticed and blew a bubble before snapping it. “Relax,” she said. “That’s just the first lesson. Eight-fifteen.”

  Theo checked his watch and nodded. “Plenty of time before the real one.”

  Lisa exhaled, but the tightness in her chest didn’t ease. She closed her hand around the key anyway.

  10:40.

  The classroom was almost empty. Rows of wooden desks, high windows veiled in red curtains that trembled with the rain. The chalkboard still carried the ghost of yesterday’s lesson, faint declensions left behind in pale dust. Mrs. Greaves stood at the front with a book open in her hands.

  “…et lux in tenebris lucet, et tenebrae eam non comprehenderunt.”

  And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

  Lisa followed along from her desk near the window, though she wasn’t really reading. The rain had stopped, but droplets still slid down the glass, catching bits of sunlight like moving stars.

  When Mrs. Greaves closed the book, the silence lingered. Only three students were still present; everyone else had dropped Latin weeks ago, which secretly made the old librarian rather glad to see Lisa there. She looked up through her glasses, her gentle smile deepening the lines around her eyes.

  “Well then,” she said. “This verse has always troubled me. What do you suppose he meant by it?”

  No one answered. Lisa kept her head down, hoping to stay invisible.

  The teacher’s gaze moved to the back row.

  “Domine Santos?”

  Derek Santos, the boy behind Lisa, straightened slowly. Lisa had noticed him before, and how could she not, with the dark honors robe he always wore over his uniform, part of the Latin Society, supposedly, though no one else ever bothered to wear theirs. His black hair fell across his eyes like shadow, and when he spoke, there was a quiet gravity to him that made the room feel smaller.

  “He’s describing more than just a struggle,” Derek said. “It’s about defiance. Light steps into darkness knowing it will be challenged. But it shines anyway.”

  He glanced up from the page, eyes catching Greaves’s. “It’s the idea that even the smallest light can deny the darkness victory. Not through force, but through the fact that it exists at all.”

  Mrs. Greaves’s smile stretched. “An interesting interpretation.”

  Derek closed his book without looking away.

  “Lux vincit tenebras,” the old lady murmured, her Latin soft but sharp as glass.

  “Light conquers darkness. Or so we tell ourselves.”

  Then she nodded, turning back to the board. “Very good, Mr. Santos. Perhaps we’ll revisit that… when we discuss the later chapters.”

  The bell rang. Lisa startled, the sound too loud after all that quiet.

  Derek was already on his feet, tucking the book under his arm as he passed her desk.

  “See you in the dark,” he said quietly, almost as if to himself.

  By the time Lisa looked up, he was gone.

  10:45.

  When the Latin room finally emptied, Theo and Juno were already waiting outside. They’d agreed to meet after class and keep things quiet on their way back. Now, the three of them crept down the back hallway toward the physics lab.

  Through the small window in the door, Lisa could see part of the classroom. Gary stood at the front beside a tall, tripod-mounted structure that resembled a miniaturized anti-aircraft turret. The metal shone with coiled copper, long rods, and nodes pulsing faintly blue.

  A teacher—presumably Mr. Brinks—stood nearby, arms crossed, nodding with mild amusement.

  “It draws current directly from the auxiliary feed in the walls,” Gary explained, tapping the tripod. “Then focuses that output through a regulated flux coil. And when it fires...”

  He snapped his fingers. One of the Juggernauts, the one with the scar, pressed a button on a remote. The turret gave a low mechanical grind.

  A line of energy snapped outward, zapping a stacked row of empty soda cans at the back of the room. The cans clattered apart.

  The teacher chuckled. “Impressive. But do you really think the science fair committee—”

  “This isn’t for the fair,” Gary said, still smiling. “This is for chaos management.”

  Mr. Brinks blinked. “I’m sorry?”

  “Control,” answered the boy with glasses. “In a distributed crisis environment, chaos has to be… managed.”

  Brinks’ amusement faltered.

  Gary walked to a nearby desk and leaned on it casually. “Think about it. Who faces chaos more than our own athletes, braving it out there on the field? And every year we throw money at second-rate gear and tired drills, only to pretend it makes them any better. But what if we had something—say, a compact, adjustable-launch kinetic array—that could simulate high-speed passes for practice?”

  He set a hand on the machine, patting it with quiet adoration. “Controlled force. Perfect arcs, every time. The team could train twice as hard without needing a squad of assistants chasing balls all afternoon.”

  His grin widened as he turned. “And Mason here—” he pointed to the tall Juggernaut with the scar slashing through his eyebrow—“would benefit most. Tell him yourself, Hale. Imagine your batting average if you had this in your corner instead of some freshman tossing lopsided pitches.”

  Hale cracked his knuckles and gave a thin, humorless smile, like he didn’t need to imagine at all.

  From their hallway view, Theo whispered, “He’s been testing those things for days. This is the first time he’s done it with an adult in the room.”

  “Why now?”

  “Because the Game’s changing. And Gary likes to be ahead.”

  Juno pulled Lisa back from the glass. “Don’t let him see you. He collects names the way psychos collect fingernails.”

  “I think I’m already on his radar,” Lisa said.

  “Then keep your head down. Calder first. Then we talk.” Juno unwrapped another stick of gum and popped it into her mouth.

  Lisa checked her phone. 11:08. She exhaled.