CHAPTER 6

BIOLOGY WAS EXHAUSTING.

Only a few minutes into the class, Dang had very quickly realized that the fact they’d started an entirely new semester off with a pretty annoying Math homework had only been an omen of things to come. The tenth grade wasn’t going to be the walk in the park that ninth grade was, and he very much wished he could go back to pummeling murderbots and contending with threats from across the cosmos. Anything would be preferable to the hell he was in right now.

They’d paired off in groups, occupying the tables around the lab. Around his table were Daedalus, Dante and Daniel sitting across from him, while Megan and Daniel were on either side of him. Completing their table was Chelsea, sat rather closely to Daedalus and Chase, who looked to hate Biology even more than Dang did.

Last time out, Biology had been the final class of the day, coming right before PE which had been fine since it didn’t matter much how much it drained them considering the day was at an end anyways. Now however, with Biology being first period, it meant they’d go through the rest of the day exhausted and completely sapped of energy.

Above them, the classroom’s fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, the cold hum blending with the low groans of frustration being echoed by the others in the class. Sitting in front of the class, a cold expression on her face was the Biology teacher, Ms. Ortega, with her black hair done in a bun, her stormy gray eyes sheltered behind rounded spectacles. She wore now a black wool sweater over a white shirt, paired with an all too long black skirt, and high-heeled black shoes. From her desk in the front, she watched everyone.

“Now remember,” she began, speaking in the same slow manner she always did, “What you’re doing now contributes to a huge chunk of your final grade. You’re supposed to identify and categorize at least five organisms today, and record your observations in the project notebook. Your recordings each week will be graded and will make up 50% of your grade at the end of the semester…so might I suggest doing less groaning and complaining, and more observing?”

In response to her, everyone groaned again.

Dang shook his head in exasperation, redirecting his attention to the microscope in front of him. He rubbed his face lazily then cleared his throat and shifted slightly in his lab stool, getting closer to the microscope then leaning in to peer through. He observed with a blank expression on his face the slide fitted beneath the microscope, attempting to decipher what he was looking at but after only a few moments, he gave up again and leaned back, shaking his head in resignation.

“Maybe my microscope’s broken?” he asked, glancing in Daedalus’s direction, his doppelganger already scribbling into his project notebook. He frowned. “Wait, hang on, did you see something?”

“Euglena,” Daedalus answered with a nod. “It’s the one that looks kind of like spilled yoghurt.”

“It all looks like spilled yoghurt.” Daniel groaned, leaning back from his microscope too. “Wait a minute, do all of these slides have the exact same organisms in them? Because if that’s the case, we could just all write the same answers, couldn’t we?”

“To answer your question, Mr. O’Connor, no, the slides don’t all have the same samples,” Ms. Ortega said, narrowing her eyes in disapproval at Daniel’s suggestion.

With a defeated sigh, Daniel shook his head and went back to observing his sample, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like: “Kill me now.”

“All of these blobs look alike,” Chelsea said a little while later, her frustration evident in her voice. “Everything here’s spilled yoghurt.”

“At least you see the spilled yoghurt,” Dante muttered. “Mine’s just…gray. It’s all I see.”

“Couldn’t we just dissect frogs or something?” Daniel asked, making sure to lower his voice this time so Ms. Ortega couldn’t call him out again. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know frogs are kind of disgusting…but at least that way we’re seeing exactly what we’re doing and what’s so disgusting about it. All we’re doing here is looking at things that look kind of like poorly drawn maps and puddles of water all at the same time.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Chase warned, still peering into his microscope. “She just might double our workload to prove a point,” he said, then glanced over his shoulder to be sure Ms. Ortega wasn’t looking in their direction. Once he’d confirmed she wasn’t, he diverted his gaze to Daniel. “Swap slides with me,” he said.

“What?” Daniel asked.

“Shhh,” Chase hushed immediately, then looked back to be sure they hadn’t drawn Ms. Ortega’s attention. They hadn’t. He let out a sigh of relief then looked back to Daniel. “I’m done with mine. I’ll help you guys out. Just swap slides with me when she isn’t looking.”

Daniel’s eyes widened both in surprise and in gratitude and then, when he was sure Ms. Ortega wouldn’t notice, he swapped slides with Chase. Almost as soon as they’d swapped, Ms. Ortega’s gaze suddenly snapped in their direction but the two of them kept their attentions trained on their microscopes, deliberately humming absently to give the impression that they were hard at work. Ms. Ortega seemed to buy the ruse, diverting her attention away from their table once more.

“You guys are out of your mind,” Megan whispered, and then after a few seconds, she flashed Chase the puppy eyes. “Help me with mine after?”

“Sure,” Chase whispered back.

Once Chase was done helping Daniel with his, he glanced back to find Ms. Ortega keenly watching their table, and simply paused, tapping his feet against the ground and humming to himself. Ms. Ortega’s phone rang after a few minutes however, and she stepped out to take the call, presenting the perfect opportunity for Chase to swap slides with Megan. They weren’t the only ones doing it either, with nearly half the class suddenly swapping slides with people on their tables, chuckling as they did. Once Ms. Ortega returned to the class, they all went graveyard quiet, looks of mischief on all of their faces as they repressed laughter with great difficulty.

Rather than return to her position in front of the class, Ms. Ortega started to move along the aisles, arms crossed as she observed what the others were doing. Once she was a good enough distance from their table, Chase swapped slides again, this time taking Dang’s, with Dang giving him a nod of gratitude as he did. At the same time, Daedalus swapped slides with Chelsea with Chelsea’s cheeks reddening slightly as he did.

When at last Biology class ended a half hour later, everyone was in all too much of a hurry to get out of the class, with Ms. Ortega emphasizing the importance of not losing their project notebooks as they filed out of the class.

Once out of the Biology lab, people got to talking about their thoughts on the class.

“Jesus Christ,” Brian O’Callaghan was saying to David Dawkins and Percy Pratt, friends of his who were on the school’s football team. “Did you hear when she was saying something about flagellum? As if I’m supposed to know what the hell that is, sounds like a Harry Potter spell to me.”

“Flagellum patronum!” Percy yelled jokingly, earning laughter from the students closest to them as they made their way in the direction of their Civics class.

“Always nice to come across jocks who know their Harry Potter spells,” Daniel commented as they moved through the hallway. “Probably only heard about it in passing but it’s still kind of nice. Means the world’s healing.”

“It felt like I was dying on a molecular level in there,” Dante said, looking all too relieved to be out of the Biology lab. “In fact, I think for a great while, I was kind of hoping that I was.”

“That would have been a lot more interesting and relevant to the class than Euglena and flagellum,” Dang said, sighing.

“You think your blood sample would look different on a microscope?” Daniel asked. “Our blood samples, I mean. Like if anyone ever took the time of day to examine our samples, you think they might find out that we, you know—,”

“Maybe,” Daedalus said. “Probably,” he added, after further consideration. “But I can’t imagine that there’s anyone out there who would care enough about a random group of high schoolers to closely examine their blood samples.”

“Maybe stop talking about your blood samples so you don’t give anyone any fancy ideas,” Dang warned, cautiously looking at the others around them, hoping no one was paying particularly close attention to their conversation.

Civics class turned out to be a refreshing shift away from the microscope-induced misery of Biology. The class room had sunlight streaming in through the tall windows, the class humming with discussion as students shuffled into their seats. Mr. Carter was already at the whiteboard, watching with a smile and waiting for everyone to get seated.

Dang and the others sat around the middle of class since the back filled up rather rapidly, and this time, Dang didn’t care much about it. As soon as they were all seated, Mr. Carter turned to the whiteboard and wrote: The Making of Laws.

He turned back to the class and still smiling, he asked: “I take it you all had refreshing enough holidays? You look kind of glum.”

“You can thank Biology for that,” Curran, a member of the chess club, groaned from the back of class.

“Ah, understood,” Mr. Carter said, chuckling to himself. “Well, in any case, you can cheer up and get those expressions off your faces. This isn’t Biology and there’ll be no observing or dissecting here. Just discussing.”

There were murmurs of agreement from members of the class which Mr. Carter really did seem to appreciate. He walked toward his desk, leaned against it and folded his arms, still facing the class.

“I would ask if any of you did any reading over the break but I think I’ve a pretty good idea what the responses would be,” Mr. Carter said, to which everyone laughed, including himself. “I know, I know,” he continued once the laughter had died down. “Even I wouldn’t spend my breaks reading Civics so it’s alright, there’s no need to try to spare my feelings.”

More laughter followed.

“How about a quick exercise?” Mr. Carter asked. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea for one. You guys think you’re up enough for that?”

Most of them nodded.

“Alright,” Mr. Carter said. “Here’s the exercise. I want each of you to imagine that you’re in charge of your class, right? And what I want you to do is to come up with one rule that every member of the class would have to follow. No exceptions.”

Students started to grin.

“Hang on now,” Mr. Carter said quickly. “Let’s not get carried away just yet. There’s a but to this. It’s not enough to just come up with a rule and expect everyone to follow it, you’re going to have to justify it. You need to put a compelling argument forward for why the rule should be passed, and why it serves more than just your own interests. You guys think you can do that?”

More nods.

“Great, now who wants to go first?” Mr. Carter asked, moving from his desk and spinning his marker around in his hand rather coolly, his deep blue eyes scanning the class to see if there was anyone interested in going first. His gaze settled on Percy Pratt who had a hand raised, a stupid smile on his face. “Yes, Mr. Pratt,” Mr. Carter said, pointing in Percy’s direction.

“No homework,” Percy said immediately, earning some laughter from those around him. And then he added: “Ever.”

“Predictable,” Mr. Carter responded with a smirk. “But why though?” he asked, pointing his marker at Percy. “Why no homework? How does it benefit the class?”

“Uhm,” Percy paused for a moment, scratching his head stupidly. “Because there’d be no homework and we could all, uhh, do things that aren’t homework? We could like play video games more, or read books or whatever hobbies we have. Less stress.”

“Do you read books, Mr. Pratt?” Mr. Carter asked.

Percy snorted. “God no.”

To this, more laughter, even from Mr. Carter.

“Right, well, a world without homework where you’re allowed to indulge in your hobbies and interests as much as you want does sound nice, but can someone tell me what’s wrong with that? Does anyone here know why homework is given out in the first place?”

“To measure learning?” Megan suggested. “To make sure that, you know, we actually remember what we’re being taught?”

“Uhh, yeah, sure, maybe,” Mr. Carter said. “But this is the age of the internet, anyone with a phone could get their homework done without really knowing much about it. Or you could just get someone else to do it for you, as I’m sure most of you like to do.”

No one denied this, just more laughter.

“No, here’s why homework’s given. It’s discipline, right? I mean, in a class, you’re in the sort of environment where you feel obliged to work, you’re scared to not work, you’re scared of detention. But outside of the class, you’re free, distractions abound, it’s easy to just not do the same amount of work you would in here. Doing the homework means discipline, it means a work ethic, it means responsibility…homework cultivates all of that, assuming you actually are doing it yourself, of course. Now, could you imagine, say, a few years down the line, being an adult with none of that? No discipline, no work ethic, no responsibility?”

There was silence.

“Sure, you could pass a rule banning homework now and you’d have the time of your lives right now. But what about in a few years? What about the long term implications? Is it good or bad for you in the long run?” Mr. Carter asked.

To this, most of the class appeared hard in thought, as if really considering Mr. Carter’s words. Dang thought he understood where he was coming from, and what this had to do with the Making of Laws.

“Who wants to go next?” Mr. Carter asked. “Another rule?”

“Assigned seats at lunch,” suggested Eli Holt, another of their classmen, a scrawny little geek who was clad at the moment in a Superman T-shirt.

“Booo!” Percy exclaimed immediately, a sentiment echoed by his own friends.

“Now, now, let’s be civilized about this,” Mr. Carter cautioned, then turned his attention to Eli. “Assigned seats, you say. Why’s that?”

Eli shrugged. “I suppose it’d put an end to the drama, you know. No more getting bullied off a table or not knowing exactly where to sit because you’re timid, right? Everyone would have a place, and it would also encourage different people socializing with each other, as opposed to everyone sitting with the same groups everyday and encouraging cliques and whatnot. Socialization’s important at this stage of development, and I reckon forcing people to sit with people they normally wouldn’t want to sit with’s a great way to do that. At least I think so.”

The room buzzed with reactions. Some nodded and echoed their agreement, others scoffed and snorted derisively.

“Nerd,” Brian O’Callaghan said rudely.

“Again, if you disagree with that, you’ll need to put forth your reasoning the same way he did his,” Mr. Carter said in a bid to restore order to the class. “Is there anyone here with a good argument for why assigned seats at lunch would be bad?”

Brian’s hand shot upward at once. Mr. Carter nodded toward him.

“Because that just ruins freedom,” Brian said, being met immediately with vocal agreement. “Lunchtime’s like the one slot in the middle of the school day where we get to rest, right? It’s like a pause from the schedule and all the stress of classes. It’s time you’d want to spend having a good laugh with your friends. It’s not time I’d want to spend being stuck on a table with a bunch of geeks from chess or Scrabble club.”

“Exactly!” Percy exclaimed in agreement. “You can’t take away the freedom of the people! That’s just…uh, undemocracy!”

“Word you’re looking for is fascism,” Tara Bridgett said, rolling her eyes at Percy’s limited vocabulary. Percy simply sneered at her in response.

The debate about assigned lunch seats went on about ten minutes, Mr. Carter simply watching with an amused smile as it raged on, scribbling any good points onto the whiteboard. Finally, he brought the debate to an end and gestured to the points he’d written onto the board, points he’d divided into For and Against.

“Based on what you’ve all heard, and said, I’d like you to do one thing now, alright?” Mr. Carter said. “I’d like you to take a vote. Now keep in mind that this isn’t the student council or anything, the outcome of this vote doesn’t actually affect the conduct of your lunchtime, alright? What I want you to do, is to raise your hands if you’re in favor of assigned seats at lunch.”

Despite how much Dang considered it a good idea, the prospect of having lunch with people other than Daedalus and the others made him feel a little weird and so he opted against voting in favor of it. Despite this, however, a little over half of the class still raised their hands, supporting Eli’s notion.

“And there you have it,” Mr. Carter said, grinning. “Assigned seats at lunch,” he added. “And that, that right there, that’s how laws are made.”

“They’re suggested, they’re debated, they’re voted. Sure, there’s a few strings that could be pulled to swing things a certain way, considering humans aren’t exactly bastions of objectivity but you now have a pretty good idea of exactly what goes into coming up with the laws that bind our lives. My question now is this: when making decisions bound to affect a large group of people, what do you need to consider?”

Hands shot up at once, with multiple students ready to provide responses. At the same time, Dang noticed Daedalus’s hand fly up to the side of his head, saw him turn his head a little oddly, noticed the scanning look he cast around the classroom.

Daedalus rose to his seat then, Mr. Carter’s eyes darting toward him.

“Are you okay?” Mr. Carter asked, appearing genuinely concerned.

“Uh, yes,” Daedalus responded quickly. “I think so…I, uh, I just need to head to the bathroom really quickly to make sure.”

There was wild, roaring laughter as he said this, although he didn’t seem to care very much. Mr. Carter gave him a nod of approval, and Daedalus very rapidly made his way out of the classroom, leaving his backpack and his stuff behind.

Dang’s eyes followed him and he debated whether or not to go after him, to find out what was wrong. But before he could make up his mind, Mr. Carter had called his name, snapping his attention back to the class.

“What do you consider when making impactful decisions?” Mr. Carter posed the question again, as if to remind Dang.

“Uh, right,” Dang said, clearing his throat. “Uhm, fairness, I suppose?”

And as expected, yet another debate ensued.

***

As soon as Daedalus stepped out of Civics class and into the hallway, the atmosphere seemed to shift, all of the chatter of Civics receding into a muffled hum the moment he shut the door. The hallway was quiet, empty and considering most people would be in class right about now, he expected this was the case for most of the school. This, as far as he was concerned, would only make his task easier. In the absence of a bustling, chattering crowd, it ought be easier to detect the anomaly the scanner had picked up on and in that vein, he started down the hallway, eyes and ears peeled as he went.

At the end of the hallway, he had to choose right or left. In either direction, the signal seemed about the same so he drew a deep breath and, trusting his instincts, chose to take the left turn. Left led him past the Physics and Chemistry labs, and past the music classroom within which a class was taking place, with what sounded a lot like an orchestra going on.

As he strode past the music classroom, the signal seemed to flicker in and out of existence for a moment, causing him to falter for just a split second. But once the signal returned, he continued on his way, feeling his heart race within his chest. It was bad enough that he’d picked up a signal when there shouldn’t have been any more anomalies, but to pick up one here? At their school? His mind was racing, thinking of all of the possibilities.

If it was a case where Bellum and his forces had somehow found a way to punch through into their universe nonetheless, then things were about to get very bad very quickly. And if the signal belonged to either one of Caden or Kai, two of Bellum’s henchmen who’d gone missing in the aftermath of the invasion, then it didn’t bode very well either. He and the others had gotten strong enough in the past couple months that another battle with Caden or Kai wouldn’t be all too difficult for them, but there would be the complication of collateral damage to contend with if such a battle broke out in the middle of Star Harbour High. Neither one of them would go through the trouble of coming all the way to Star Harbour, unless they were out for blood. And given what had happened during the invasion, both of them had great reason to be out for blood.

The third and perhaps least concerning possibility was that the single belonged to one Astraeus, yet another displaced anomaly on their world who’d been somewhat of an ally during the invasion and had gone off the grid since. A return of Astraeus could signify only trouble and mischief but Daedalus found that possibility preferable to either of the first two he’d thought up.

But Astraeus knew exactly where he could find Daedalus and the others when they were out of school, he knew their base of operations—the abandoned school where they trained and pretty much lived now, since their original base had been wrecked in an explosion of Dang’s accidental making. Why would he come all the way to Star Harbour for them?

Perhaps it wasn’t any of those three possibilities. Perhaps it wasn’t a return of Bellum’s forces, a re-appearance of Caden and Kai, or even a visit from Astraeus. It could have been something new all-together, which steered Daedalus’s mind into considering a fourth possibility, one with a high likelihood especially considering previous events.

What if there was another one? Another doppelganger? Another Dang who’d somehow wound up here?

The same thing had happened to he and to Dante, the both of them having been displaced from their universes and blasted across time and space to Dang’s world. And though he’d never really brought the subject up, he’d spent a considerable amount of time attempting to understand why they’d been drawn to this universe, aware that such a thing couldn’t possibly have been coincidental. There were quantum forces that he did not yet understand and it was within the realm of possibility that these forces were acting on their own, that they were deliberately weaving threads of their own, threads that could bind all of their lives. If another Dang had popped up here, then it would serve only as an omen of a threat to come. When he’d arrived on this world, there’d been danger in pursuit. The same had been true of Dante. He imagined it would be the same with the arrival of yet another doppelganger.

His hunch was that he and Dante had been drawn to this world because of Dang’s ability. He, after all, had seen Dang use his Resonate ability to broadcast his mind past the space-time barrier and come out unscathed—there was so much about what his prime doppelganger could do that pointed to him being the reason for the convergence, either subconsciously or otherwise. Perhaps his ability to Resonate had some sort of magnetic effect on Dangs who’d been displaced through the continuum, essentially drawing them all to one point.

But there was no way to find out for sure whether his hunch was correct. At least, not without restarting multiversal travel and putting this entire universe in grave danger. So for now, he’d chosen to push the idea out of his head and to focus on other stuff. Besides, he knew that if he brought it up, the others would only tell him that he needed to let things go, and that there was no more danger for him to be worried about.

But of all of them, he had perhaps the most experience contending with Bellum and his forces. And he knew without a doubt that there would always be danger, whether or not they could perceive it. Bellum was relentless. Someday soon and somehow, he’d attack again. And he wanted to be ready when that finally happened.

Daedalus paused then, freezing as his eyes caught movement. He spun in the direction he’d seen the movement and frowned as he spotted the janitor’s closet, the door standing slightly ajar. Past the door, he saw nothing but gloom and shadows and the silhouette of mopsticks and brooms. He remained there for a while, rooted to the spot, staring straight into the closet, expecting any moment for something to leap out, for something to attack him. But nothing did, and so he wondered if he were being taunted by whatever could have been in the closet. Was it inviting him? Was it daring him?

Slowly, he started toward the closet, one hand firmly clenched and ready to attack if there was any danger in there. He arrived at the door, and stepped inside the closet. His eyes glowed as he switched to night vision, allowing him to see clearly the closet’s interior. The place was cluttered with shelves of cleaning supplies and bore the slightly nauseating scent of bleach and antiseptic. Buckets were placed around, stacked, and there were a few mops that leaned precariously against the walls and shelves.

There looked to be nothing in there out of place, nothing that could have wound up there from another universe. At least, he certainly thought it would be ridiculous if the source of the signal was some mop displaced from another world. A little disappointed, he turned to leave, and that was when he heard the crunch, one that prompted him to halt at once.

With his eyes wide, he stared down to the ground, to his feet. He’d stepped on bits of stone, he noticed. He crouched to investigate the stone, picking the bits he’d broken up and feeling them in his palm.

“Hmm.” A frown creased his face. There was something not quite right about the stone. Something off about its texture. He scanned it to identify any out-of-place elements but nothing stood out. As far as its makeup was concerned, it was no different from any other common stone in the world. But to the touch, Daedalus could sense something distinctly odd about it.

Besides, why was there stone on the ground in the janitor’s closet? Where had it come from? He couldn’t see any cracks in the walls there or anything in the ceiling that could have justified the presence of debris so where then had this come from?

He straightened to his feet and started out of the closet. Just as he emerged from the closet, he saw someone out of the corner of his eyes, ridiculously close to him. His instinct kicked in at once, and yelling, he charged into whoever it was, tackling them to the ground.

There was a rather brief contest that involved a lot of swatting at hands, but it ended with Daedalus atop the person, his palm keeping them pinned to the ground.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” Daedalus demanded. “WHO ARE YOU?!”

“Dude,” came Daniel’s voice, startling Daedalus, and he realized then that it indeed was Daniel that he’d attacked. His eyes went wide and he relaxed his pin on Daniel.

“Why aren’t you in class?!” Daedalus demanded, reducing his voice to a whisper now, praying that the earlier commotion hadn’t been loud enough to draw anyone else out of their classes. He rose to his feet and offered a hand to Daniel then, helping him up as well. Daniel dusted himself off then shot Daedalus a look of reproach.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Daniel said, then gestured to the janitor’s closet. “What were you doing in there?”

As Daniel spoke, Daedalus had been scanning his voice, scanning his eyes, wanting to be absolutely sure that this was Daniel, their Daniel, and that it wasn’t some shapeshifter or a doppelganger. Once he’d confirmed that this was indeed the Daniel he knew, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“I picked up a signal in the middle of class,” he revealed, then gestured to the closet. “I thought there was something in there.”

“And?”

“Nothing but stone,” he answered.

Daniel frowned at this. “Stone?” he asked. “What, like actual stone? How’d that get inside the janitor’s closet?”

Daedalus shrugged. “Beats me. There was something not quite right about it too.”

“You don’t think we’re up against some sort of Medusa, do you?” Daniel asked, shuddering as he posed the question, fright evident in his eyes. “Because I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to be turned into a stone statue. I mean, I know I’d look good on a museum display and all, but—,”

“For all we know, it might be a false read,” Daedalus said. “A mixed signal. There mightn’t be an anomaly around after all.”

“How would you explain the stone then?”

“Maybe I accidentally stepped on a sculpture?” Daedalus suggested, but even he sounded unconvinced by his own explanation. He sighed and shook his head. “Where’s Dang? Dante?”

“Still in class. I said I’d go check on you, it’d have been suspicious if all of us left the class at the same time.” Daniel answered. He cast a glance around then and placed his hands at his waist, appearing rather concerned. He glanced straight at Daedalus, nodded at him. “What’s your gut telling you, robot man? You really think it’s a false read? Or do you think there’s something wrong here?”

“What do you think?” Daedalus asked, raising one eyebrow over the other.

“I don’t know, man.” Daniel sighed. “It’s just…everything’s been great since we won, right? We stopped the invasion, saved the world and it was great, right?”

“Right.”

“Then why does it feel to me every single day that we lost somehow?” Daniel asked. “I should be happy and for the most part, I am…but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something we missed, something else that we’re not noticing. There’s really no way it could all have been that easy, right? I just…I know it sounds ridiculous but all of this feels to me like a moment of reprieve, like you know, a time out or something…but not the end of the game, just half time. So if you say you’re picking up signals then, well, I think I believe you.”

“What do we do then?” Daedalus asked. “Split up? Maybe we search different wings of the school for any signs of trouble?”

“Split up?” Daniel repeated. “Are you out of your mind? There isn’t a single moment in history where splitting up’s been a good idea. If you want to keep looking for the anomaly then I’ll look with you, but I’m sure as hell not splitting up. We do it together.”

“Great.” Daedalus breathed a sigh of relief. “I was kind of hoping you would say that,” he said. “Now come on, let’s keep heading this way.”

***

Their search ended in the boys’ locker room, midway through the third period, with that being the point where Daedalus lost signal and resigned himself to defeat.

“Nothing,” he said, dropping onto a bench and shaking his head. “Signal’s gone.”

“That’s kind of good, right?” Daniel asked, folding his arms. “Even if there was an anomaly right here at the school, it came and went without there being any chaos, no damage, nothing? Maybe things are finally swinging our way and the new anomaly’s a good guy not someone who’s out for our blood or bound in loyal service to a multiversal conqueror?”

At that, Daedalus chuckled. “Yeah, it would be nice if we were sent a new ally as opposed to yet another psycho. But I don’t understand how I could have lost the signal,” he said, appearing a little confused and disappointed in himself. “Maybe I need to perform a firmware update, upgrade the scanners and all, recalibrate them…help us get more precise reads and traces the next time something like this happens.”

“Right, sure.” Daniel nodded. “But maybe you do all of that after class? Speaking of, we’ve got to get to class. We should have History right about now. Or Geography. And I’d rather not miss History, I’d like to size up this new teacher everyone’s talking about.” And then Daniel’s eyes went wide, as if an idea had just popped into his head. “Dude, what if the new guy’s the anomaly?”

“Who, Mr. Saunders?” Daedalus asked. Initially, he viewed the mere suggestion as ridiculous. Then he gave it a few more seconds of thought and his expression darkened somewhat. He rose to his feet and nodded at Daniel. “Alright, sure,” he said. “Let’s go learn some History.”

And so it was that they went to History class, apologizing to Mr. Saunders as they strode in having missed more than half the class but thankfully, he didn’t care very much and instead welcomed them warmly, gesturing toward the seats in the class and instructing them to find theirs. Daniel sat next to Megan who’d reserved a seat for him and had grabbed his backpack from Civics class while Daedalus headed toward the back, and went through the class without even his notebook since his backpack was either still in Civics class or with Dang and the others in Geography.

Over the course of the class, he watched Mr. Saunders closely, in such an intense manner that it must have appeared to everyone else like he was especially interested in the class which was about the first World War when in reality, he was curious to see if the scanner would detect anything. By the time the bell went off however and signified the end of History class, the scanner hadn’t picked up anything and he shuffled out of the classroom, both relieved and a little disappointed that Mr. Saunders hadn’t been the new anomaly since that might have made things a tad complicated.

The others who filed out of History gushed about how dreamy Saunders was, and how History was bound to be a new favorite of theirs if he continued in the same vein. Daniel, on the other hand, was full with complaints about how boring the class had been, although it was fairly evident this was just because of his slight jealousy toward Mr. Saunders.

During the shuffle between classes as they headed for fourth period, Daedalus found Dang again, the two of them meeting up in the hallway, with Dang handing Daedalus his backpack and raising one eyebrow, studying him suspiciously.

“Where’d you go?” Dang asked.

Daedalus shrugged. “Toilet,” he answered.

“The entire time?” Dang asked, looking unconvinced. “Do you even need to use the toilet like that?”

Daedalus chuckled. “My bodily functions aren’t as weird as you might think,” he replied. “And if you must know, I wasn’t in the toilet the entire time. I also went to History with Daniel.”

“Oh, how’d that go?” Dang asked.

Daedalus simply shrugged. “It was alright. New teacher’s alright too.”

“Uh-huh.” Dang nodded, sounding as though there was still a few things not quite adding up for him. “Are you sure you’re okay though? Everything’s fine?”

“Yep,” Daedalus answered with a nod and forced a smile. “Everything’s great. Nothing to worry about.”