Page 34

The mist clung to the air like breath on glass, curling around the rocks and trees and swallowing her form until only silence remained. I stood there, forehead still tingling with the echo of her touch, trying to make sense of the calm now coiled inside me.

Ethan exhaled a slow breath. “Okay, that was... kinda intense.”

I glanced at him. The usual glint in his eyes was dulled, like the glow had left a mark deeper than he wanted to admit. He caught me looking and offered a crooked smile.

“You felt that too, right?” he asked, voice softer now.

“Yeah,” I murmured. “Like something ancient reached in and said, ‘Hey, don’t die.’”

“Comforting,” he muttered with a snort.

We stood in silence, just long enough for the park to reclaim its chaos. A bird called from the trees. The wind stirred the mist, dragging it apart like smoke across a battlefield. And just like that, nothing was left of the Neravine and her kid.

“Clark! Ethan!” Joy came running, Shun, Mia, and Max close behind, panting and wide-eyed. “Please tell me you found the kid.”

Of course. Amid all the drama, I'd skipped the one thing that could actually cause more drama—the kid in the group chat.

Ethan gestured behind us. “He’s safe. Little dude scurried off with his mom.”

Max stopped cold. “Wait— you found him? Where is he? Is he okay? Is he, like… a plant? Do Neravine kids photosynthesize?”

“None of those, actually,” Ethan said with a smirk. “Kinda adorable.”

Shun blinked. “You found the mom too?”

Joy gasped. “Please tell me she showed up dramatically through the fog.”

Ethan and I exchanged a glance.

“She was fog,” I admitted. “Well—she came with fog. Left behind mist like a signature. Her form kind of… melted into it.”

Max squinted. “So... like a cryptid ninja?”

Joy nudged Shun. “You’re getting this down, right?”

“I’m literally transcribing in real time.”

Joy turned back to us. “Start from the top. You found the kid—where?”

Eventually—after a long interview about the occasion—we decided to walk back to the bus. The walk was mostly silent. Thanks to the impromptu search exercise, everyone seemed to be out of steam and hungry.

"You look like a kid who just got grounded," Joy said, nudging me.

"We are grounded. Or whatever the school trip equivalent is," I muttered, glancing toward the front of the bus. Mr. Dax sat with his arms crossed, jaw clenched in seething frustration.

Instinctively, I knew this was not a good sign.

May the ocean gods intervene.

He stood and cleared his throat loudly enough to startle the half the students.

"Let me remind you who's in charge." He let the silence stretch, his gaze sweeping over us like a warden inspecting prisoners.

"You wasted time, ignored the itinerary, and most importantly, you all skipped lunch.

So as a punishment, we're having dinner together.

" He paused, letting us believe it was just a minor inconvenience before delivering the final blow.

"At the cheapest burger joint I can find.

No upgrades. No extras. Just a plain, sad, standard meal.

And ooh it's cheaper than anything we have ever eaten.”

Of course, the ocean gods couldn't hear me even after being blessed.

Groans filled the air. Joy clutched her chest like she'd been mortally wounded. "Oh, the horror. The humanity."

Shun, ever the diplomat, simply nodded. "Fair enough."

Honestly, it could’ve been worse. Detention. Expulsion. A personal lecture from Principal

Catherine. Compared to that, an underwhelming meal was bearable. Still, I wasn’t thrilled.

We shuffled, following Mr. Dax down the street to a run-down burger joint squeezed between a pawn shop and a nail salon. The sign above flickered weakly, only managing to spell out "Bites." Not exactly reassuring.

Inside, the air reeked of grease and burnt fryer oil. The cashier, a tired-looking teenager, barely acknowledged us as Mr. Dax placed a bulk order of basic cheeseburgers with small sodas. No fries. No sides. Just disappointment wrapped in wax paper.

When the food arrived, I unwrapped my burger and stared at it. The patty was thin enough to see daylight through, the cheese looked suspiciously plastic, and the bun was already slightly squished. Across from me, Joy prodded hers like it might fight back.

"This is the saddest thing I've ever seen," she murmured.

Ethan, of course, took a huge bite and shrugged. "I've had worse."

"Your standards are in hell," I deadpanned.

Mia snapped a picture. "I feel like this moment needs to be remembered. The Great Burger Punishment of Paramount High."

Mr. Dax, sitting at a separate table, sipped his soda with the satisfaction of a man who knew his revenge was complete. "Let this be a lesson. Next time, stick to the schedule. I'm talking to you Clark."

I sighed and took a bite, ignoring him. It tasted exactly as bad as it looked.

Ethan and Max, of course, had stolen fries. How they even got them was a bad-ass-jock mystery.

The sound of the door jingling made me glance up. A group of students entered, their matching jackets practically announcing their presence before they even spoke. The rival school. Boulder High.

I stiffened, stomach twisting as I recognized them—the same smug faces that had pelted us with rotten eggs before the trip even began. I still hadn’t forgotten the stench.

Across the room, Mr. Dax looked up from his soda and locked eyes with Boulder High's chaperone. A silent acknowledgment passed between them. A sigh. A grim nod.

The tension in the air shifted. Our group, all still munching on our sad burgers and stolen chips, instinctively squared their shoulders.

We watched them as they made their orders. They watched us in return.

And then, just as we all braced for what was coming, Max turned to Ethan and, with all the subtlety of a bull in a China shop, grinned. "FOOD FIGHT!" he bellowed, his voice carrying through the room like a battle cry.

Chaos erupted instantly. Trays flipped, spaghetti soared, and mashed potatoes splattered against the walls like some avant-garde art piece. Ethan had already launched a handful of fries at an unsuspecting rival before my brain even filed a report.

I groaned, sinking into my chair like I could disappear into it. “Unbelievable.”

Somewhere between dodging a rogue meatball and reevaluating my life choices, I found myself watching Ethan.

He was grinning like the demon he was, effortlessly dodging a slice of pizza with the grace of someone who’d trained for food fights at a demonic Olympics.

That reckless smile tugged at something quiet in me.

Maybe it was the joy lighting up his face.

Or maybe it was how, with him, nothing needed explaining.

Before I knew it, I was standing. Before I could second-guess myself, I grabbed the closest thing to me—a burger—and hurled it straight at his mug face.

He twisted at the last second, and the burger missed him entirely, smacking into Max’s shoulder with an unceremonious splat.

Ethan gawked at me. “Not me, you idiot! The other team!”

I barely had time to register my mistake before something cold and wet smacked me square in the face. Wiping at my cheek, I stared in horror at the dollop of mayonnaise clinging to my cheeks.

Oh, it was ON.

From that point on, strategy was abandoned in favor of pure, unfiltered mayhem. I threw food at anyone who wasn’t on our side. Joy, obviously, went feral and shot at everyone—including me—then, used a tray as a shield while Mia filmed the whole debacle, laughing between dodging incoming attacks.

Shun, somehow, remained untouched in the center of it all—dodging airborne nuggets and splattered sauce with the reflexes of a seasoned cheerleader—calmly sipping her soda like it was just another episode of drama she wasn’t starring in.

The Boulder High's team was relentless. Their food-fighting skills were nothing short of professional. One student catapulted an entire bowl of soup across the room, landing it directly on Max’s head.

Another sent a wave of ketchup-covered fries flying, painting my uniform in unfortunate shades of red and yellow.

Meanwhile, Ethan was having the time of his life. He’d climbed onto a table, dodging flying projectiles with supernatural ease. “Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted, narrowly avoiding a particularly aggressive meatball.

It was over in minutes. Our team was drenched, our clothes ruined, our dignity in tatters. Boulder High stood victorious, smirking as they surveyed the battlefield.

I ran a hand down my face, flicking off a stray piece of lettuce. “We lost,” I admitted, breathless.

Ethan, despite being covered in spaghetti sauce, grinned. “Worth it.”

At the doorway stood Mr. Dax—arms crossed, tie stained with spaghetti, mashed potatoes clinging to his shirt like badges of shame. His eyes weren’t just disappointed; they carried the weight of a man who entered a food fight for vengeance and walked out covered in defeat—and gravy.

Joy nudged me. “You think we’re getting detention?”

I looked at Mr. Dax, marinara splattered across one eyebrow like war paint.

“Absolutely,” I said. “We lost the battle... and his dignity.”