Aden flicked his pencil into the air, watching it spin like a tiny, inefficient propeller. The metal tip caught the fractured light of the twin suns—yellow Pondora and blue Quandar—as they streamed through the frost-coated window. A yer of ice clung stubbornly to the gss, filtering the light into jagged shards that barely warmed the cssroom.

  It had snowed st night. The good kind—wet, dense, perfect for packing. He could already picture pelting Adora with a snowball. Her reaction alone would be worth it, even if she got him back tenfold.

  The bell rang, slicing through his daydream. Aden shoved his books into his bag and slid out from behind his desk, already thinking about winter break. He had about a week and a half of uninterrupted boredom to look forward to—no games, no tech, no nothing.

  He barely made it two steps before his foot caught on something solid.

  Gravity betrayed him.

  His notebook went airborne, fpping like a doomed bird before smming to the floor. He followed it with significantly less grace, his knee smacking into the hardwood. The cssroom erupted with ughter, a chorus of delighted jackals. Chairs scraped against the floor as his cssmates scattered, their amusement echoing down the hallway. By the time the dust settled, his notebook was a crumpled mess in the corner.

  A shadow loomed over him.

  "Payback’s hell, isn’t it?"

  Aden didn't need to look up. He knew that voice—smug, syrupy, the human equivalent of nails on a chalkboard.

  Jimmy.

  Golden curls, perfect uniform, and that signature sneer that made him look like he practiced in front of a mirror. Behind him, Tater and Marco stood like glorified bookends, their identical buzz cuts making them indistinguishable—except for the fact that their mother always mirrored the cut so people could tell them apart. Marco’s uniform was somehow always tighter, emphasizing his thick, linebacker build.

  Aden sighed, pushing himself up. His knee throbbed, but whatever. Worse things had happened.

  "Wow, Jimmy," he drawled, dusting himself off. "Tripping me? How innovative. You must lie awake at night coming up with these."

  Jimmy’s sneer deepened. "Consider it karma."

  "For what?" Aden retrieved his notebook, flipping through the pages. A third of them had separated from the binding, but at least nothing was missing. He reached for a crumpled sheet under the chalkboard, stapled everything together as best as he could, and turned back to Jimmy with a raised brow. "For existing?"

  Jimmy chuckled, but there was something tight about it, like he wanted to say more. Instead, he shoulder-checked Aden on his way out, his cronies snickering as they followed.

  Aden let out a slow breath and tossed his notebook into the trash. He was done with today.

  Outside the cssroom, Adora was waiting, arms crossed, eyes locked onto Jimmy’s retreating figure like a hawk sizing up a particurly punchable rodent.

  "What a jerk," she muttered.

  "Yeah, well, he thinks he’s clever," Aden replied, rolling his shoulders. "It’s kind of sad, really."

  Jimmy, as if on cue, gnced over his shoulder and grinned. "See you around, Welex."

  Aden gave him a ft stare. "Promise?"

  Jimmy snorted and kept walking.

  Adora turned back to him. "You okay?"

  "Fine," Aden said, because expining that he was not fine was too much effort. "It’s winter break now. We can forget about people like Jimmy for a while."

  Adora hooked her arm through his, dragging him toward their lockers. "Exactly. Two whole weeks of freedom."

  "More like two whole weeks of chores," Aden muttered. "And no datapads. No music. No fun. Just barn work and listening to Dad’s stories about 'back in my day, we had to write essays by candlelight with quill pens'—"

  "Hey, at least I can use a datapad," Adora joked.

  Aden stopped walking.

  Adora’s face went white.

  "I—I didn’t mean—"

  "Didn’t think," Aden finished, pulling his arm free. "That’s the most obvious thing you’ve said all day."

  The hurt in her eyes hit him immediately.

  Great.

  He didn't wait for her response. His feet moved before his brain could catch up, carrying him into the boys' washroom. The door shut behind him, blocking out the noise of the hallway. He stepped into the first stall, locked it, and pressed his forehead against the cool metal.

  That was stupid. She didn’t deserve that.

  His hands clenched in his hair. He tried to breathe, slow and even, but the knot in his chest tightened. The walls felt too close, the air thick. It was always like this—the attention, the constant eyes on him, the expectation. And his allergy only made it worse.

  Two years.

  Two years since his fourteenth birthday. Two years since his life started falling apart.

  Before that, things were normal. He could stay after school, hang out with friends, py his crinet without feeling like something was fundamentally wrong with him. But then, overnight, everything changed.

  His datapad fried.

  His mobicom stopped working.

  Every piece of technology he touched glitched, crashed, or ft-out died.

  He had become the first known person in history to have a techno-allergy.

  Aden squeezed his eyes shut. He heard the dull murmur of voices outside, the normal world going on without him.

  It wasn’t fair.

  It wasn’t fair.

  His gaze drifted to the graffiti on the stall door, his mind desperate for a distraction.

  Aden Welex is gay. To get id, call—

  His old mobicom number.

  Aden let out a bitter ugh. Joke’s on them, his father had been handling his messages for years now. The number didn’t even work.

  He reached into his bag of holding, nestled in his pocket, and pulled out a marker remover sponge. Scrubbing the words away, he let the repetitive motion calm him. At least this was something he could control.

  But his mind wouldn’t stay quiet.

  Jimmy had changed.

  Aden used to think they were friends, back when they hung out after school, ughing about dumb jokes and compining about teachers. Back then, he was just a normal kid with a famous parent—people joked about it, but nobody treated him differently. But after the pixie incident—the moment Aden had seen Jimmy break that tiny creature’s wing—everything had shifted.

  Jimmy hadn’t just stopped being his friend.

  He’d made it his mission to ruin Aden’s life.

  Aden’s stomach twisted as he shoved the sponge back into his pocket.

  'What happened to you, Jimmy?'

  He stepped out of the stall, spshed cold water on his face, then lingered, watching the droplets race down his reflection.

  He looked exhausted.

  'It’s just winter break,' he told himself. 'It’ll pass.'

  With a sigh, he dried his hands and left the washroom.

  With the stall clean and his head still swirling, Aden decided it was time to leave school for the day. He hoped some fresh air would clear his mind.

  As Aden walked toward the barn, the cold air biting at his cheeks, he tried to push all his negative thoughts aside. The school day was over, and winter break was about to start. He should be excited about getting out of school for a while, but the weight of everything kept gnawing at him.

  Only teachers and the occasional student walked the melted walkways. His best friend Allen waved at him from astride his bronze unicorn before setting off for home. Aden waved back as he reached the barn.

  Just as he was about to open the barn door, soft voices caught his attention. Aden paused, his hand on the door, and listened.

  He heard Jimmy’s voice ask, “Want to do my homework, Chris?”

  Aden stepped to the side, pulling out the small compact mirror Adora had made him carry. He panned it around the corner and saw Jimmy standing in the barn’s shadow, his usual smirk pstered on his face. Chris, a cssmate, stood opposite Jimmy, practically vibrating with the kind of desperate enthusiasm usually reserved for st-minute extra credit assignments and stray wolves looking for a home. Jimmy held the reins of his griffin in one hand, and in the other, he held out a data card.

  Chris adjusted his horn-rimmed gsses, his fingers twitching like a nervous bird before he reached for the card. His smile stretched wide, a little too eager, like he was about to be knighted instead of roped into academic fraud. “Sure, Jimmy, no problem.” He pushed his horn-rimmed gsses up his nose. “When do you want it?”

  “Eh, a few days. Drop it off in my tree house. Make sure a couple tough ones are wrong so it looks like I did it.” Jimmy lightly tugged on the reins. His griffin stepped smartly up to him.

  Jimmy mounted his griffin with a quick, fluid movement, smirking down at Chris. “Let’s go, you stupid beast.” His hand barely ghosted over the griffin’s neck—quick, almost dismissive, but there for just a fraction longer than necessary.

  Instead of being offended, like Aden expected, the griffin merely flicked an ear, the same way someone might when ignoring a familiar, well-worn jab. It took off with a smooth canter, wings spreading as it lifted effortlessly into the sky.

  Aden pocketed his mirror, frowning deeply. Griffins were intelligent creatures and typically did not tolerate verbal abuse. They had to be befriended and treated with respect, or they would turn on their rider. This one, however, simply accepted being called stupid with barely a flick of its ear. That wasn’t right.

  As Jimmy and his griffin disappeared into the sky, Aden stepped out from his hiding spot. He watched Chris scurry away, clutching the data card like a prized possession. Aden shook his head, bemused, as he pushed open the barn door. "What even was that?"