Monday, June 25

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  Mission: N/A

  11:10

  The guys in our room were Danne, Jackson, Tisiah, me… and this other kid who was a ginger.

  He wore a white T-shirt, cargo shorts, high black socks, and Adidas shoes—like he’d packed for summer camp and actually meant it. Jackson kept glancing at him, not with attitude, just curiosity.

  Danne, on the other hand, looked like he’d already decided he hated him.

  And me? I was nervous in a way I didn’t want to admit.

  Not because of the new kid I couldn’t bring myself to say hi to.

  But because Jamal was in this cabin, and I was pretty sure he’d be happy to suffocate me in my sleep.

  Why was he here?

  Why this cabin?

  “Alright,” Danne announced, clapping his hands once. “Let me make this clear. I will assign everyone their beds.”

  “Why?” Jackson asked immediately.

  “Because I put myself in that position,” Danne snapped. “That’s why.” He turned and slapped the bottom bunk closest to the door—twice—like he was stamping ownership papers. “This one belongs to me.”

  He pointed. “You sleep up top, Jackson.”

  Jackson frowned. “But I like the bottom.”

  “Remember,” Danne said, voice tightening, “I’m the one that decides.”

  Jackson stared at him like he was trying to decide whether to argue or laugh.

  Danne continued, “Now, Tisiah… I would make you sleep up top, but I don’t know who this ginger is.” He pointed at the redhead. “So he gets top.”

  Danne faced him. “You got that?”

  The redhead nodded and quietly placed his stuff on the top bunk by the window.

  “At least you can see the sunrise,” Jackson offered, like he was trying to encourage someone who didn’t look like he had a spirit to encourage. The kid’s face stayed neutral—blank, unreadable.

  Danne turned to me with a straight face. “And you, Connor… you can sleep on the floor.”

  “There’s a whole bunk bed right there,” I said, pointing at the empty one on the opposite side of the room.

  “And…?” Danne replied.

  “Why would I ever sleep on the floor?”

  “Because I said so.”

  “Oh, shut it,” Tisiah cut in. “Connor, sleep wherever you want.” He pointed to the remaining bunk. “In fact, I’ll take the top. You—” he pointed at the redhead, “—take the bottom.”

  The redhead nodded like he was grateful someone finally used logic.

  Danne’s jaw tightened. “I don’t need you challenging my authority.”

  “It’s hard to challenge something that doesn’t exist,” Tisiah said. Then he looked at me. “Come on. I’ll show you camp.”

  “But don’t we have to unpack?” I asked.

  “The assembly doesn’t start until two,” Tisiah replied. “We’ve got time to explore—and maybe grab breakfast.” He rubbed his stomach. “Didn’t get to eat this morning.”

  I shrugged and followed him out. Before I fully left, I glanced back at the room.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “We’ll be back in a sec.”

  “Take your time,” Jackson called. “Nothing much to look forward to in here.”

  Outside, the path from our cabin merged with the path from the girls’ cabins. Students—campers—were settling in all over the place, hauling luggage, shouting, laughing, and instantly acting like they’d lived here their whole lives.

  It felt colder than I expected—around fifty degrees. Cold enough to make me regret not bringing a jacket.

  I’d never tested whether my Perk could help with temperature. It didn’t feel like the right time to start experimenting.

  Ahead was a red wooden building with an angled roof, a white-trimmed door, and black markings across windowpanes. A carved wooden sign hung above it:

  CAFETERIA.

  “We’ll hit that soon,” Tisiah said. “But see that long building over there? That’s the gym.”

  It was beige, with a flat roof—more like a massive rectangular block than a “gym.” There was an entrance, but oddly… no visible doors.

  We followed the path and crossed a short arch over a dip in the ground, like a ditch. It was strange. Really strange.

  Inside, a short hallway led to a room on either side. One room had tables, board games, and an old piano shoved into the corner like it had been abandoned mid-song.

  Across from it was a bathroom.

  Then we entered the “gym.”

  Not a weight room.

  A full basketball court. That’s what they meant by gym.

  Paintings lined the walls—flowers and silhouettes sprinting across fields. What was weirder was how people were already inside. Malachi was, of course, one of them—launching threes like the hoop personally owed him money.

  Brown bleachers hugged the wall. People sat and chatted or scrolled on their phones.

  I didn’t even know you could play games on a YMPA device.

  “Every night,” Tisiah said, “there’s a huge basketball or volleyball game here. If you play and you’re on a good night, you’ll get recognition.”

  I stared at him. “What makes you think I can play basketball?”

  “Hold on—hold on.” Tisiah pressed a hand to my chest like he was stopping me from falling into a trap. “Look over there. Actually—come, come.”

  He sped up, leading me back out, over the arch, then down a longer path that opened into the main field.

  Bleachers wrapped around one half. A few students were already down there, tossing baseballs and footballs back and forth.

  “Baseball and football happen here at five,” Tisiah said. “After the little classes.” His eyes lit up. “We played the Tryouts Game. We can and will play here. This is an opportunity and a half.”

  I frowned. “What if a bunch of planes decide to bomb this field?”

  Tisiah stared at me like I’d asked if gravity was optional. “I’d be concerned,” he said slowly. “But that’s not gonna happen. No one’s attacked camp before.”

  “Not once?” I asked.

  “No. Not even the school,” he said with a chuckle. “Makes me wonder why they don’t keep the same security measures everywhere.”

  We turned from the field toward another building—same shape as the gym, almost directly across, except this one was black.

  My brows lowered, but I didn’t say anything.

  Then footsteps came up behind us.

  I turned and saw Nikki jogging toward us, slightly out of breath. “How are you gonna give him the tour without me?” she demanded.

  Tisiah looked her up and down. “What happened?”

  Nikki frowned. “What do you mean what happened? I was looking for you two. That’s what I was doing. What do you think?”

  Tisiah muttered, “Well… if you wanna keep going, we can.”

  Nikki shrugged. “Obviously.”

  They finished their self-appointed tour: paintball, pickleball, soccer—another field entirely. Smaller, but still big enough that if the average person played, I swear half of them would pass out.

  Then again… we’re junior agents. It’d be concerning if we couldn’t run.

  Eventually we ended up back at the cafeteria.

  Inside: orange-and-white tiled floors, long tables set in two columns. One line of tables ran all the way across the room; the other stopped midway because the serving counters were in front of it. On the far right, two short poles with a yellow chain created the start of a line.

  People poured in, and I already knew that line was going to stretch outside.

  I got into line near the middle—behind the last pole. Not bad. Better than standing outside in the cold while hungry.

  Tisiah and Nikki weren’t with me, though. They’d branched off to “check something.”

  What that meant? I had no idea.

  Then I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  I turned, expecting Mikey—eyes glowing like a desperate puppy—or Jamal, ready to swing.

  Instead, it was September.

  And she was already wearing a yellow hoodie like she’d been born in this camp.

  “What’s up, September,” I said, my voice softer than usual.

  “Hey,” she replied—flat. Static in her tone. “What class do you and Tess have?”

  “What Tisiah said.”

  September’s eyes narrowed. “Which was obviously not true. If you actually kept tabs on that club, you’d know they operate at the CAMEO campus during camp.” She leaned in slightly. “Meaning you wouldn’t be on this bus. Meaning you wouldn’t be here.”

  I stayed quiet.

  September chuckled. “You’re not in trouble, bro.” She lowered her voice. “But if we’re going to help Mikey get with this girl—”

  “You are?” I cut in.

  “Somewhat,” she said. “If you’re helping him, I might as well too.”

  “To be honest,” I muttered, “the whole football team is helping him.”

  “I can only imagine how functional you guys will be,” September replied.

  I stayed silent again.

  She continued, “After Mike—his brother—you seem like the only one actually convinced you’re helping. The rest of your team is gonna sabotage him more than they’ll help.”

  A bell rang. The line shuffled forward. Trays of pizza slices and breadsticks slid onto the counter. Cups of ice sat on one metal shelf, and another shelf held cups without.

  “You attend practices or something?” I asked.

  “I saw the Tryouts Game,” she said. “And I’m just hoping the kid with the Perk carries the entire team.”

  “You know I can’t do that,” I muttered.

  September smiled like she already knew the truth. “I know you’ll do it anyway.”

  Then she stepped past me as the line moved.