I strolled to the front of the school, the imposing brick façade looming over me, right at the entrance. I dodged some students on the way, their chatter filling the crisp morning atmosphere. The doors were still shut. I glanced at my watch, noting the hands pointing to six twenty. I guess I'm used to university time, where early mornings are common. I turned and retraced my previous path, spotting a weathered wooden bench beneath an old oak tree. I took a few steps and sat down upon the bench, the wood cool and slightly rough against my skin, relaxing. I spread open my arms, basking in the sun's gentle warmth. That's, at least, what I was doing on the outside. Every second I thought of possible distractions or obstacles in the plan, and made counters for each. If someone saw me and recognized me, things along those lines. There's limited ways to solve that, but I thought of a few.

One of the students I passed gave me a few passing looks. She stood quite tall for a woman, with long blonde hair cascading down her back. What was she? About five ten? Don't tell me... I looked away and stared out into the courtyard, trying to appear casual. When Jordan comes, I'll stay on guard. I'm not even sure if he would recognize me. The blonde woman walked up to me, her footsteps light on the pavement. "Hey, are you a transfer student?" she asked in a polite tone, her blue eyes curious. I responded, "Yes, I moved here recently. Nice to meet you. My name's Jake." I stuck out my hand for a handshake, my heart racing beneath my calm exterior. I'm not going to tell her my real name. She reached out, accepting the handshake with a warm smile, "Yes, likewise. My name is Sharyl." Her grip was firm, and I could feel the subtle strength behind her friendly demeanor.

I retreated my hand, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance. "I came a bit early, not knowing the exact time. When does school start?" I asked, hoping she wouldn't see through my pretense. She shut down my question with a slight frown, "It should've told you on your pamphlet that you got when you transferred." A sweat tear ran down my face, and I quickly countered, "I apologize, I didn't get time to read it that in depth. Missed it, I think." She accepted that explanation, her expression softening, "Oh, in that case, it starts at six forty." Jordan should be here shortly, then. I pretended like I was getting a call, raising my hand to signal her. "Another time, then." she said with a small nod. I fished my phone out of my pocket and had a fake conversation, the empty screen hidden by my ear.

A dozen minutes had passed, the morning sun steadily climbing higher, and I spotted a few cars driving in. Most were unremarkable, basic sedans and compact cars, but one stood out with a decadent look. Bringing a yellow Lamborghini to school? Really? The sleek, polished car gleamed under the sunlight, its presence demanding attention. A young man stepped out, and it was Jordan. He wore a green hoodie, just like in nearly all of his social media pictures. There's something about that I need to figure out. He glanced around, scanning the area, and our eyes met for a split second. Damn it! Hopefully, he didn't recognize me.

The door unlocked and swung open with a creak, a staff member stepping out and announcing, "Alright, you can enter now." The students began to stir, gathering their things and moving towards the entrance. Sharyl walked by me and whispered, "Talk to me later." her tone low. Not going to do that. I got up, brushed off my jeans, and walked inside the building, the cool air conditioning hitting me as I entered. The hallway was brightly lit, the polished floors reflecting the overhead lights. Students streamed in, chatting and laughing, their voices echoing off the walls.

The building was about as standard for modern schools. High-tech lockers lined the walls, their sleek metallic surfaces reflecting the overhead lights. Unique signs, each with bold, colorful lettering and symbols, were plastered atop classroom doors, indicating subjects or teachers' names. Now, I'm not a student, nor am I a staff member. How am I going to blend in? I only need to be here for one day. The bathrooms. After I know where Jordan goes, I will enter the bathroom and hide out there.

Jordan went into the school ahead of me, and I dashed around hallways, trying to spot him. The corridors were a maze of identical doors and bustling students, but shortly, I spotted his green hoodie and blonde shaggy hair weaving through the crowd. I pursued him, maintaining a careful distance while monitoring his movements. Each interaction with his classmates was casual, a quick nod or a few words exchanged, but he had no real friends. All he had were acquaintances who seemed cool with him but never went past that. Jordan opened his locker, the metallic door creaking slightly, and I spotted a picture inside. It was a photograph of four people in gray robes, their faces obscured by hoods. These are... My heart skipped a beat.

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I ran through the crowd of students, their voices a chaotic background hum, and bumped into Jordan. He fell to the ground, dropping some books, their pages fluttering as they scattered. I seized the opportunity and swiped the picture from his locker, stuffing it into my pocket as fast as I could before he could get a good look at me. I rubbed my head, feigning pain, and reached out my hand. "Ngh, I apologize, I shouldn't have been running." I said, my voice contrite.

Jordan recovered himself, brushing off his hoodie and getting up on his own. He let it go, his expression a mix of annoyance and resignation. "It's... fine... Just don't run in the halls again." I nodded, trying to appear sincere, and left as quickly as I had come, the picture pressing against my thigh through my pocket. Jordan went through his locker, seemingly not noticing the missing photograph. He soon headed into the classroom adjacent to his locker, the door closing behind him with a soft click. I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I had been holding and made my way to the nearest bathroom. Pushing the door open, I slipped inside, the cool, tiled interior offering a momentary refuge. I locked myself in a stall, pulling out the picture to examine it more closely.

This is... the cult! These gray robes and that weird symbol, there's no mistaking it. They're in a forest in the middle of nowhere. It's them! I recognize the one on the right—Arnold. The one who actually got sent to jail. Perfect. Now I know which four bastards did that to my sister! My eyes scanned the photo again, lingering on the tall woman in the middle, a mystery to me. There were three people that raided my sister's house, but she wasn't one of them. She's holding a phone in the picture, unable to even focus on the camera. She might've been the one to actually discover my sister's existence. I let it go, tucking the photo back into my pocket, and focused on my first target, Jordan. He was in class now, oblivious to the fact that his secrets were slipping away from him.

What I was able to surmise from stalking Jordan's movements is that he attends class normally, maintaining good grades and attendance. Despite this, I've heard some offhand chatter about Jordan's lack of emotional control when people walk to their classes. Apparently, he got jumped by a group of his classmates once and beat them all without sustaining many injuries. I'll use this to my advantage. I heard footsteps outside the bathroom near the entrance of the school and peeked out cautiously as they passed. Jordan? I slowly followed him, masking my footsteps with his. He turned right and approached the desk lady, a middle-aged woman with glasses perched on her nose. The reception area was neat and organized, with stacks of papers and a computer humming quietly. Jordan spoke briefly with the desk lady, who nodded and gestured towards a set of forms on her desk. His voice was calm, his demeanor collected, as he filled out the paperwork with deliberate strokes of the pen.

They had a polite conversation, and Jordan signed something with a thoughtful expression. The desk lady said, "See you, Jordan. Be back soon." He's leaving? From stalking his social media presence, Jordan seems to have a normal life, and nobody near him thinks he's involved in a cult. But wait! Could he be heading to do some cult activities? He will return, supposedly, which means his mom wouldn't know about any other activities. He's in his last year, so he doesn't need his parents' permission to leave. Either way, I know his mom picks him up from school. I'll sit outside and wait until then.

Waiting for the next hour, I saw that same golden Lamborghini park in the lot. Here's my chance. I made my way to the car, feeling the nervous anticipation knotting my stomach. As I approached, I clenched my fist and delivered a sharp punch to my liver. Subconsciously, I held back, but it still left a painful welt. On the way, I took off my hoodie, revealing the school uniform underneath. I knocked on the door to the passenger's side. The mom, startled, quickly composed herself as she saw me. "Hello, ma'am," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I have some bad news." Her expression turned concerned, "What bad news?"

I lifted up my shirt to show her the bruise on my side, "Your son's been bullying me."