School had ended, and I found myself still stuck in the contemplation of what to do with September. She usually made my heart leap, but now all it sparked was confusion.

What if he was right? What if, in fact, telling her wasn’t the best idea?

I was worried—scared, in fact. Just thinking about all the possibilities—the bad ones—that could occur just had me shaking in my shoes, even while walking. I started to approach home, to which I would knock, wait, and see my mom appear at the door.

It happened every time. Every time.

In fact, if it didn’t, I’d be worried, wondering about the whereabouts of my mom. But then again, Dad was home, so in the end, it was all still fine.

I walked up the street, seeing all the white suburban homes, to which I came across ours, the gray one, the one that was just a shade darker than the rest. It had its cons and its pros, although right now it was overwhelmingly a pro.

I approached the door and knocked, to which footsteps came closer, to which inevitably Mom opened.

“Heya, Connor,” she said, quite proudly, to which I responded with a subtle response. I walked in, welcomed to the tiles that were placed along the first floor of the house.

“How was school?” Mom asked right before entering the space of the living room. I responded, “Fine. Same as always, you know, just how it usually is.” Mom chuckled before she went into the kitchen.

“How is school usually?” she asked. “Usually doesn’t describe much.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d care,” I said, to which I froze once she asked the question. Mom scoffed. “All I know from school is your friend Greg. And being that new chess club that you’re in, I’d expect you to make more friends.”

Well, yes and no. No on the chess club thing, but we’ll keep that a secret. “I mean, sure, if that’s what you wanted to know,” I said in return, to which Mom stopped and walked over to me.

What did I do? What did I do? Should I have told her more?

But then she put her hands on my shoulders, saying with this heartfelt tone that happened to warm my heart in some odd way. I kind of wanted it to stop, but then again, it was Mom. How could I think that?

“You can tell me anything, alright? Anything.”

“I know, Mom,” I insisted. “But there’s not much to tell you, to be honest.”

Mom nodded and patted me on the shoulder. “If that’s what you say,” she voiced. “Your Dad is in his room.”

“Alright,” I responded, to which I then walked up the stairs, to which I had now entered the realm of the next floor, to which I then entered the room to the left. As I opened, I saw the bed and the dresser just as normal, to which I then had to do what was required next.

Change.

But not into home clothes, no, no, no. But the spy clothes. The white jacket, the black shirt, and the yellow utility belt stuffed in my dresser.

The whole process.

Once I did, I clicked the button on my utility belt that was red, and by the hip side of the belt. Next thing you know, a portal opened up under me, to which I immediately fell, screaming as I did so before landing... crashing onto the road.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

I was outside the door to the YMPA, the black and gold beauty the structure, as I groaned in pain. Then, appearing in front of me, was the man himself, Mr. Drails.

“Oh, sorry,” he winced as he looked at me, Although I’m sure he could tell that I could tell, that was complete sarcasm that I did not appreciate. “Hopefully, you’re alright.”

“Try to maybe open the portal above me and not below me. I kind of don’t want to slam my face into the road all the time,” I hissed. Mr. Drails smiled. “Welcome, get set. It’s starting in ten minutes.”

Wait—huh?

“What is?” I asked, confused but then he opened the portal behind him, which he backed into, disappearing from existence as I was left outside with a heavy sigh.

Great.

In the end, I entered as I looked at the graceful hall of the YMPA, all in its gold and black, which was a rich combination I could not help but gaze at.

first thing I did was head to the cafeteria, because that’s where, at least, basically all the students in this building were. I opened the door and was invited to a loud area of noise.

There was the long table, as usual, that basically lined up against the walls of the cafeteria, to which multiple people were getting their lunches. I was full, so I didn’t find myself in any desire for one.

However, there was a certain desire that I had. And it was to find Tisiah. Wherever he was among these hundreds of tables packed with people,.

But then, my eyes lay on a simple wooden table, scattered with a few people, one of them being Tisiah. I immediately approached him, to which he noticed me and let out a wide grin.

“What’s up, bro,” he greeted, to which we did our quite unique handshake. He taught it to me after seeing it on a video.

Tisiah was wearing this gray checkered dress shirt with blue jeans and these black Vans. “Anything interesting happens?” he asked as I sat down on the chair.

“Well, no… but I do have something I want tell you,” I remarked. Tisiah’s eyes widened. He was now interested.

“Well, say it,” he ordered, his posture comically straight as he crossed his hands. “Please, speak unto my ears something I must process and interpret, and in that way I can—”

“I’m going to tell September that I like her.” Tisiah froze, with no words coming out of his mouth. He didn’t even look surprised; he just looked lost. “Uh—oh… figures,” he said. “That’s really brave.”

“Yeah, but Greg says that I shouldn’t,” I then stated. Tisiah tossed his head sideways. “Okay, continue,” he said.

“He says that I’m not exactly popular enough. He says that there’s nothing like... different, interesting, or something like that about me.”

“That doesn’t mean popular enough,” Tisiah immediately said, to which I narrowed my eyes, quite confused at such advice. “But I’m sure he—”

“He’s saying, being where she’s at, why would she stoop down, no offense, to a person that doesn’t reach her status. She’d probably go with someone more known,” Tisiah said. “But that doesn’t mean that you have to be popular. You have a perk; try to catch her attention with that.”

“Oh. I did not expect that from you,” I said.

“I’m just being realistic,” he responded. But then his eyes lowered, which sparked my interest in what could possibly have been behind me.

I turned around, only for my heart to stop as I saw the bright, glowing object standing behind me, to which she waved slightly. The glowing artifact then looked at me confusedly, to which I could only wonder why.

“Connor?” she asked, and for some reason, the atmosphere to which I was trapped completely disappeared.

“Oh, uh, yeah, hey,” I stammered, causing me to second-guess my entire plan’s existence. “Yeah, uh, how have you been?” September chuckled as she aligned her blonde and black hair, which made just squeal inside.

“I’ve, I’ve, I’ve been fine,” I responded. My eyes subconsciously glanced to the side, noticing Tisiah’s anxious face, as if he were about to urinate in his pants for me.

“I hope so... you’re kind of stuttering a bit. I think you might head to the nurse. Or maybe someone put some chips on you—let me check,” September responded, to which she suddenly grabbed my shoulders, spinning me around the opposite direction.

Just feeling her touch had me feeling all types of ways, which I was now starting to become concerned about. She grabbed a part of my hair and lifted it up, which she then reported, “Nothing there... or...”

“No, no, no, no, nothing’s wrong... it’s just that.” I first began before glancing an eye to Tisiah, who then nodded rapidly. I then averted my eyes ahead of me, closing them before I allowed the words to exit my mouth: “I just wanted to tell you that.”

But then she stopped. I’m not sure why I decided to stop because she wasn’t unnecessarily inspecting me. I turned around, noticing her attention facing in a different direction—that I didn’t know.

"Well, look at that.” Tisiah then said, and as he said that, I finally grasped the cause of this reaction.

It was Malachi, but it looked like he just had a whole transformation. A new haircut, a brown lazily tucked-in shirt with black pants and converse, looking like someone straight from the magazine.

“He looks... cute,” September uttered, and by then, I completely frozen.