The pen won't stop tapping. I'm not even doing it on purpose anymore. Just mechanically tapping against the desk while Mr. Hammond writes a really lengthy derivative equation on the board.
He explained last week but might as well be ancient Greek at this point.
My notebook's open.
AP Calculus
That's it. Thirty minutes into class and that's all I've got. No work. No half-answers. Just a title hanging there like it's waiting for me to care.
I don't. I can't.
Because in about three hours, I'm supposed to meet them at the field and try to make a soccer ball phase through space in mid-air, again. On purpose. And I'm the only one who knows we were told not to. Almost forty-eight hours have passed and I still haven't said anything.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A heavy thud to my chair snaps me out of my thoughts.
"Dude," Jonah whispers. "Quit it"
I clamp my fingers down around the pen. "Sorry."
He leans into his desk "Hey Elias," he hisses. "Please tell me you did your history homework."
I blink. "What?"
"History." He gestures like it should be obvious. "The worksheet Austin assigned on Friday. You did it, right?"
"Oh. Right, Uhh—"
I turn back to see his face drop. Actually drop. "I sort of... forgot"
"You forgot?" he looks genuinely betrayed. "It's due in like an hour dude. How do you forget?"
"I had other stuff going on"
"Elias. Come on man! You know I don't understand anything in that class. I was counting on—" He stops abruptly. "Wait. What stuff?"
My stomach twists. "Nothing," I say too fast. "Just—stuff."
Jonah studies me for a second, like he's trying to line that answer up with the version of me he's used to. It doesn't quite fit.
"You okay?" he asks, quieter now.
"Yeah," I try to sound reassuring. "Just forgot."
Neither of us noticed Mr. Hammond wasn't writing anymore, until he cleared his throat loud enough for us to realize we've been made.
"Mr. Thorne. Mr. Hayes." We both freeze. "Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of us?" he asks.
The entire class turns. Great.
"No, sir," I manage.
"Then I suggest you save the conversation for after class."
"Yes, sir."
He holds our gaze a beat longer, then turns back to the board. The entire class exhales as everyone snaps back into place.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I slide it out like it's a prison contraband, keeping it low under my desk.
It's Mara in the group chat.
Remember guys. After school. Be early.
I can tell Jonah's seeing the message too from behind me. I made sure my screen stays angled just enough that he can.
I should just tell them right now on the group chat. "Got another message on Saturday. Says we shouldn't do this"
Ten words. That's all it would take.
My thumb hovers. Then I see what comes next—Mara starts asking questions I don't have answers to. Jonah thinks I've holding out on them. The plan falls apart.
I drop a thumbs up instead.
It's best for everyone if I figure out why this mystery person never wants us back on that field before things get any worse. If Mara's plan figures it out. Then it's worth the risk.
The rest of the school day collapses into noise. The final bell rings at 2:40 PM and we both walk out with extra homework and extracurricular for a week thanks to history.
Jonah's beside me in seconds, slinging his bag over his shoulder while I finish packing mine.
"So," he says casually. "We doing this?"
I glance at him. He's not smiling. He's asking like it matters. Like my answer decides something way bigger than the two of us.
"Yeah." I say "We're doing this."
We head out of class and he waits for me by the exit while I head to my locker.
"Ready?" the final gesture from him.
The real answer? No.
"Yeah"
We cut through the crowd heading for the main gate and make our way to the open field on the far side of campus.
Mara's already there, perched on the bleachers, staring desperately into her laptop like it holds the secret to all our problems.
"She's early." Jonah points out.
"She's always early."
She doesn't notice us until we're close. When she finally does, her expression doesn't change. Just glances at her watch.
"Good," she says. "You're on time."
"Barely." Jonah replies, dropping his bag.
She closes the laptop and sets it aside. "Phones charged?"
I nod. Jonah checks his. "Yeah"
"Good." She looks between us. "We're recording everything. Multiple angles. No improvising. We recreate the conditions exactly as they happened last time."
She sounds so steady. Like this is just another lab experiment, and not us deliberately stepping back into something we barely understand.
Without needing much prompting, those two immediately start prepping things with barely 15 minutes left.
Mara sets up all three phones at different angles around the field, while Jonah heads into the locker rooms to grab a ball.
I can't help but think that this is all a mistake.
The warnings up until now haven't been for no reason. Mara said she got a warning too. Odds are it's the same person. Meaning someone's watching us and has a reason for guiding our every move.
The question is should we be more focused on playing the role of the obedient pawns, or should we be trying to unmask the hand that's guiding us?
It's too late now. They're already committed. Already setting everything up like this is the only logical next step.
"Hey Elias, five minutes" Mara's distant yell pulls me out of thought.
Jonah jogs back out, ball tucked under his arm. He's grinning. Actually grinning. Like this is fun.
"Got the good one," he says, tossing it up and catching it. "I'm sure coach wouldn't mind us borrowing it."
He drops it on the grass, nudges it with his foot to test the bounce.
I'm looking at them. This is really happening. We're really doing this. Against all better judgement and warnings.
My chest feels tight. Not panic. Just pressure. Like something's sitting on my ribs and won't move.
What if the warning was right? What if this isn't just about observing an anomaly—what if we're the ones causing it? What if—
"Elias." Mara's voice again. She's standing right in front of me now, hands on her hips. "Are you okay?"
There it is again. That question. Am I good? No. Not even close. But honesty felt like a luxury I couldn't afford right now.
"Yeah. Just thinking."
"About what?" she asks.
I hesitate "Just... what happens if it doesn't work?"
"Whatever happens, we'll know more than we do now." So calm. So sure. I wish I had that kind of certainty.
"Alright. Where do you want me?" Jonah asks from the field.
"The same position as last time" She gestures with her finger to make sure he knows. "Okay Elias. Take your position. Two more minutes."
I nod and walk out into the field.
Everything's set. I stare at the ball. It's just a ball. A regular soccer ball on a regular field on a regular Monday afternoon. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.
This is it. No going back after this.
Mara checks her watch. Glances up at me. "Three thirteen" she calls out. "One minute"
The wind picks up slightly. Just enough to make the ball shift an inch. Jonah notices it too. Steadies it with his foot.
3:14 PM
"Now!" Mara yells out.
Jonah kicks the ball forward. Slow. Casual. Your average warm up shot. I trap it clean, before passing it right back. It lands at his feet, coming to a halt. Still normal. We do it again and again. Nothing happens. No stutter, no video game glitch, just a soccer ball behaving exactly like a soccer ball should.
Mara's watching from the bleachers, phone still recording. Her expression hasn't changed, but I can see the tension in her posture. She expected something by now.
We all did.
Jonah passes the ball back to me. Slower this time. "Maybe it's the timing?" he says out loud.
"We're in the window," Mara replies. "Three fourteen. Same as last time."
"Then why isn't it—"
"I don't know."
That lands heavier than it should. Because Mara always knows. Or at least acts like she does.
"This doesn't make sense," Mara says. More to herself than us. "It's the same location, same time, same conditions."
"Maybe it was a one-time thing," Jonah offers.
"It wasn't," she snaps. Then, quieter, "It can't be."
I don't say anything. The ball sits between us, still and harmless. For the first time since we got here, I almost feel relieved.
That's when Jonah speaks up.
"Elias."
He's got that look. The one he gets when he's about to call me out on something. "You kicked it like this was junior tryouts all over again."
"What?"
"Last time, you weren't thinking about it. You just did it." He gestures vaguely. "This time you're... I don't know. Holding back."
"I'm not—"
"You are." He's not accusing. Just calling it like he sees it. "You're treating it like it might explode or something."
Mara watches without interrupting.
Jonah shrugs. "Maybe that's the difference. Last time you committed. This time you're..." He trails off. Searching for the word.
"Scared," I finish.
He doesn't argue. Neither does Mara. Because they both know he's right. I am scared. Terrified, actually. Not of the ball. But of what I'm choosing to ignore by being here in the first place.
Mara steps down from the bleachers. "He might be right," she says. "Intent could be a variable. Emotional state. Commitment level."
"You're saying I need to... what? Mean it more?"
"I'm saying you need to stop hesitating."
She's not wrong. But she also doesn't know why I'm hesitating.
"One more try," he says. "But this time, don't let fear rule your shot. Actually go for it. Like you did before."
The ball's in my hands. I can stop right now. Tell them about the warning, about everything.
I drop the ball at my feet and take a step back. For a second, I just stand there. Taking in the quiet of the surrounding. The weight of things finally landing, pressing down on my shoulders like a physical hand.
I run up and kick it—hard, clean, no hesitation.
The ball lifts off the grass and cuts through the air. It arcs across the field toward Jonah. And then—
It stops.
Not like it lost momentum or anything. It just... Froze. Completely suspended in the air.
Jonah's mouth drops open. "Oh. My—"
Mara's already moving, phone raised, circling slowly. "Interesting"
Seconds pass. Five. Ten. Fifteen. It's still there. Hanging in the air.
"Holy shit," Jonah whispers.
"It's holding," she says. More to herself than us.
Jonah edges toward it as well. "Should we... do something?"
"Don't touch it yet," Mara snaps. "We need to document this first."
But she's already walking closer too. We all are. Drawn to it like iron filings to a magnet.
I get to it first. Close enough to see every detail. The scuff marks, the dirt, even the faded logo.
Jonah's beside me. "This is real, right? We're all seeing this?"
"We're seeing it," Mara confirms. She's still recording. "We need to see if it responds to contact"
He nods slowly. "Yeah. Okay. That makes sense."
Why is their first instinct always to do the crazy stuff?
"So... who's doing it?"
Silence. Nobody moves.
Jonah glances at me. "Elias. Try moving it."
"What? Why me?"
"Because you kicked it."
"Yeah, and the pass was meant for you, wasn't it?" I shoot back. "So technically, you should—"
"Technically, you're the one who made it freeze," Jonah counters.
"So that means I'm the dedicated lab rat?"
I turn to Mara hoping she'd have a better idea. Some kind of scientific protocol. Maybe a tool we can use. Anything that doesn't involve touching it.
"How about you?" I shoot to her.
She doesn't say a word. Just looks at me. A look that could melt steel. The kind that says I just asked the dumbest question in human history.
"...Right. Okay." I turn away
I can tell Jonah's holding back a laugh. "Guess that's a no"
I stare at the ball. It's still just... there. Waiting.
My hand moves before I can talk myself out of it. Slowly reaching forward.
"Elias, wait—" Too late.
The instant my fingers brush the ball, the freeze breaks. It drops to the ground, hits the grass with a dull thud, and rolls away.
I jerk my hand back like it just touched a live current.
Jonah's the one who breaks first. "Did you—did you do that?"
My palm's still tingling a little bit. "I don't know."
"You touched it and it fell." Mara says, watching the footage play back. "That's not coincidence. It's a direct response."
"So what does that mean? It responds to touch? Or just to him?" Jonah says staring straight at the ball.
"It means it's not the field," she says. "It's you"
Again with the silence.
Mara rewinds the video once more, slower this time. She watches it without blinking, thumb hovering just above the screen like she already knows what she's looking for.
"There," she says. "You see it?"
Jonah leans in. "Yeah. Right when he touches it."
She nods. "The freeze holds until contact. That means it's stable. Contained."
"Which is good," Jonah says. "Right?"
Mara doesn't answer right away. She's already thinking ahead. I can see it in the way her posture shifts, the way the moment stops being something that just happened and starts becoming something to work with.
Jonah looks at me. Then back at her. "So... what? We just keep doing it until we figure out why?"
"Until we understand the mechanism, yes." She's already moving, gathering the phones from their positions around the field. "We document everything. Build a baseline. Then we start testing variables."
She's in full research mode now. Clinical. A bit excited even. Like freezing time was something she could add in her Harvard application letter.
Jonah exhales slowly. "This is insane."
"It's science," Mara corrects, without looking up.
They both turn to me.
I nod, because that seems like the thing I'm supposed to do. Because arguing now would mean explaining everything I've been sitting on since Saturday, and I don't have words that wouldn't sound like excuses.
"It's getting late." Jonah points out looking into the horizon.
Mara glances at her watch, then finally lowers her phone. "We stop here," she says. "We got enough."
Enough for what, she doesn't say.
Jonah scoops up the ball and tucks it under his arm. They both start walking off the field. Jonah's already pushing for the footage.
I hang back for a second, staring at the spot where the ball froze, half-expecting something to still be there.
There isn't.
I jog to catch up.
Behind us, the field stays quiet. Like nothing ever happened.