Steve grunted, concentrating on the foreign streets of Ancio. During their hectic orphanage escape, he took the wrong turn and found himself lost and confused. Civilians carelessly crossed the road—left, right, everywhere. Had he wandered into a pedestrian zone? Steve doubted it, quickly spotting the traffic signs as he checked either side of the road. So it wasn’t his fault—the civilians around here just didn’t pay attention to the vehicles.

“What’s wrong with these people?” he huffed, spotting just as big a crowd behind him. Reversing would be impossible.

Mattiaz cocked his head—as if he only just started paying attention—and smirked. “Damn tourists. The beach is just across the street.” He pointed out the turn. “I guess summer ain’t over for them just yet.”

Steve took in his surroundings with this newfound information, finally noticing the street shops that had been half hidden by the massive crowds. They sold all the beach essentials: inflatable animals, towels, and swimsuits. Tall, slender stone apartments shadowed the narrow street, laundry dangling from lines affixed to balconies. Despite that, the sun's rays shined a bit too brightly for his old truck which didn't even have a air conditioning. Sweat poured down Steve's bronze skin—he really wasn't used to this type of weather. Passing through an intersection, Steve glimpsed the sea across the busy road, its surface sparkling between the buildings. The water only graced his vision for a split second, but it was enough to momentarily hypnotize him.

“Wow, I’ve never seen the sea up close before,” he admitted. His brown eyes gleamed as they roamed to the water once more.

“Dude! The road!” Mattiaz jerked, pulling Steve’s attention back to driving. He slammed on the brakes immediately, the green tree air freshener swaying wildly from the rear view mirror as they made a sharp stop just short of a zebra crossing. An elderly man propped up on a plastic cane stood just before Steve’s bumper. It was a miracle he’d stopped in time.

“Ya lousy little snots! Go back to ya mothers’ tits if ya can’t even drive!” Straightening his crooked back, he swung his cane violently toward them.

Steve gulped and stuck his head out the open window. “Sorry, sir! I’m not from ‘round here. I’ll try to be more careful!” He showed him his innocent grin hoping it would simmer the old man’s rage.

“Damn tourists.” Still grumpy, the old man staggered off the road, headed for the beach in his flashy flower top.

Mattiaz exploded with laughter, slapping his knee repeatedly through his outburst. Steve felt like getting grumpy now too, but zipped his lips and revved the engine again. He drove slowly, desperately searching for a way off the crowded street. The heat in the truck had become unbearable; he couldn’t wait to get on the highway and drive fast again. Thankfully, he spotted a sign on the road pointing towards the highway. He wasted no time aiming in that direction.

“So, what happened over there? Why were you running from those angry women?” He recalled Mattiaz mentioning a ‘goodbye to the orphanage’, so he added, “also, orphanage? You’re an orphan?” He cringed inwardly at his own awkward question.

Only then did Steve realize how little he knew about Mattiaz Rider. But that would be expected, since this was the first time they had actually met. Mattiaz and Steve first contacted each other through the official Spirit Academy application when Mattiaz had sent a message to all users asking for a ride to school. Steve prided himself on being a good samaritan, so he offered.

“Yeah, I don’t think we talked ‘bout that.” Mattiaz’s lighthearted nature returned, earning a chuckle from Steve. “Thanks for the ride, by the way.” His voice hitched.

Steve didn’t even realize that he’d avoided the question entirely as he focused on the road.

Once, he finally escaped the pedestrian terror of the ocean-side promenade and took a moment to switch over to his navigation: straight ahead for 3.2 miles. Next to him, Mattiaz was scratching his neck with a dead gaze, completely silent. The uncomfortable quiet forced Steve to speak up again.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“So..." he started, giving Mattiaz a moment to pay attention. "You got any idea what to expect from the Spirit Academy?” Not that he supposed Mattiaz would divulge anything he hadn’t already read about—Steve wasted an unhealthy amount of his time researching the academy and the power of ‘spirit’, but the Spirit Academy’s privacy policy prevented the public from learning anything concrete about their training methods.

Mattiaz relaxed in his seat. “They’re supposed to teach us how to control spirit, so I’m hoping I get to spit fire and kill monsters the first day.” He grinned and flexed his lean muscles, imagining all the cool stunts spiriters performed on TV. Though the ‘killing monsters’ fantasy came from the cartoon he watched the other day.

“That’s quite the leap...” Steve said, deadpan. “You’re not scared at all?” He thought he knew the answer to this one, but asked anyway. Mattiaz frowned and set his legs on the dashboard, arms folded behind his head.

“What should I be scared of? Those imaginary monsters?” He breathed out a laugh, fumbling for the lever to recline the uncomfortable truck seat. When Steve said nothing, Mattiaz persisted. “Aw, you scared?”

“Of course I’m scared.” Steve saw no reason to overthink it or act tough. “Not only are we talking about spirit, which is this mysterious power nobody really understands, I doubt that I’m a spiriter to begin with.” His outburst was full of regret. Steve had wanted to keep his doubts to himself, but Mattiaz’s demeanor brought out his defensive side.

Mattiaz sat up straight. “Huh? Hol’ up. What do you mean? You didn’t get tested?” Mattiaz recalled being told that, according to the law, every fifteen-year-old had to be tested for spirit by their local doctor. It was how the Spirit Academy ensured that all spiriters remained under the government’s radar. Why would they not test Steve?

“I did, and the tests came back positive,” Steve answered through gritted teeth as they pulled onto the highway. Unlike his earlier trip, he couldn’t find delight in soaring past the cars given the subject of their conversation.

“Then why’re you talkin’ like you don’t have spirit?” Mattiaz crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed beneath his white bandanna.

Steve let out a dramatic sigh. “Because I didn't feel any change. My doc just suddenly tells me that I have some magical hormone in my blood and I should believe her?” He waved his right hand crudely. “Nothing happened. I’m sure she’s wrong and I plan to confirm that and go home.” Mattiaz grimaced and blinked rapidly as he attempted to grasp Steve's baffling logic.

“I didn’t feel a change in me neither. Doesn’t mean there’s no spirit,” he argued. Though even he sensed that any ounce of logic was unlikely to push through Steve’s stubborn mindset—he seemed dead set in his theory.

Mattiaz’s reply only irritated Steve, even if he did understand why it confused him. Steve wasn’t a fool. He had looked into it: testimonies from older spirit users, doctors, specialists, and any other source he could find.

As Steve had learned from his exhaustive research, many people believed spirit to be a genetic trait, but nobody from Steve’s family had ever awakened spirit. He and his mother had even gone back generations in their family tree just to be sure.

Another theory posited that many spiriters had underlying mental health issues that could trigger spirit hormone production in their bodies. But Steve was mentally healthy—he had this confirmed by multiple doctors, therapists, and psychologists as a precaution.

The last possible cause was that of physical strength, which was an immediate dead-end. Anyone could tell by simply looking at Steve’s slim body that he didn’t fit that description.

All this meant that nothing connected Steve to the strong and superhuman spiriters. Even with the evidence, he realized the chances of convincing Mattiaz of his theory were low. After his crazy stunt at the orphanage, Mattiaz definitely fits the mentally insane demographic of spiriters. Debating this with him is pointless, he thought.

Mattiaz waited for Steve’s response, but after receiving none, he shrugged and decided to play along. “Unless it’s really a mistake. But I don’t know how likely that is.”

“In my case, more than likely,” Steve said, wanting to drop the subject. Mattiaz picked up on Steve’s mood and decided it was best to leave it.

“Whatever floats your boat, normie,” he joked despite the tension. “In that case, drive me to my real spirit buds. To Holy Bay!” He shot his fists up excitedly and lay back down in his seat.

Steve chuckled, a little more appreciative of Mattiaz’s craziness in the moment. "Yeah, yeah..."