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  Chapter 2 – The Mission Begins

  The next day, I walked to school alone.

  No dumb arguments. No sarcastic banter. No Mo walking beside me like some oversized, mildly offensive shadow. Just me, the wind, and a whole lot of questions swirling in my head like a blender set to "anxiety."

  I even took the longer route. Added fifteen minutes to the walk just to avoid the metro. Just to avoid him.

  The moment I stepped into school, I got to work.

  I pulled aside everyone I knew who had ever breathed the same air as Mo.

  “Do you know what school he’s going to?”

  Nope.

  “Did he mention any names, even once?”

  Nada.

  “Anything at all? A brochure? A rumor? A coded message hidden in his doodles?”

  Nothing.

  It was like he’d vanished into the fog of war, and I was the only one who knew he was secretly plotting something unholy.

  That’s when it hit me.

  There’s only one person who’d know for sure.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  His parents.

  Now, a normal person would’ve waited until after school, gone politely to his house, maybe even brought cookies to soften the awkwardness. But me?

  I was already halfway down the hall when the idea finished forming.

  The school’s utility room smelled like broken dreams and mop water. I grabbed the old wooden ladder leaning against the far wall. The thing creaked like it was begging for death, but I hoisted it over my shoulder and marched to the courtyard.

  My eyes locked on the school wall. No turning back.

  I propped the ladder against the side of the building, took one deep breath, and climbed.

  By the time I reached the top, my palms were raw and my heartbeat was trying to breakdance. I balanced on the ledge, looked down, and aimed for the thick branch of the oak tree that leaned just close enough.

  “Here goes everything,” I muttered.

  I jumped. Caught the branch. Hung there like a sack of terrified potatoes while my muscles screamed.

  “GET DOWN FROM THERE!” a teacher shrieked from below.

  I didn’t even look. I swung once, twice, then dropped to the next branch. Then the next. One after the other like a squirrel on a mission from God.

  “STAY WHERE YOU ARE!”

  “STOP RIGHT NOW!”

  I landed in the grass and bolted like a demon was chasing me. I couldn’t stop—not now.

  I was too close.

  I hit the metro station, gasping, sweat dripping from my hairline. Slapped a bill on the counter.

  “Six stations, please.”

  The guy looked at me like I’d just come from war. He gave me the ticket anyway.

  I collapsed onto a seat once I was on board. The rumble of the train soothed nothing.

  ---

  I kept thinking…

  What if I was wrong?

  What if Mo wasn’t some unhinged predator with the social filters of a toaster?

  What if I was overreacting—again?

  But then I remembered the look in his eyes when he said, “Those girls look hot.”

  That deadpan, straight-faced sincerity.

  He wasn’t joking. And that’s what scared me most.

  I wasn’t just trying to find out where he was going.

  I was trying to stop him from becoming something worse than a weirdo.

  I was trying to protect people.

  Even if no one believed me.

  ---

  The train hissed to a halt.

  I sprinted up the stairs two at a time, burst onto the street, and made a beeline for Mo’s apartment building. Ten floors of concrete and regret. I didn’t even wait for the elevator.

  Stairs. One by one. Two by two. My legs burned. My lungs wheezed. I didn’t care.

  By the time I reached the 10th floor, I was shaking like a blender on max speed.

  I rang the bell.

  It opened a few seconds later, revealing a kind face with tired eyes—Mo’s mom. She smiled.

  “Oh, Seno! Do you want to come in?”

  “I—I can’t right now,” I panted. “I just need to ask something. One thing. Just one.”

  She tilted her head slightly, confused. “Of course, dear. What is it?”

  I looked her straight in the eye and asked the million-dollar question:

  “Which school is Mo going to next year?”

  She blinked. “El SHARKAWY School.”

  Time stopped.

  That name echoed in my skull like the toll of a cursed bell.

  El SHARKAWY.

  The elite institution. The perfect cover. A school for both boys and girls. From ages five to eighteen.

  Five to eighteen.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I couldn’t blink.

  I couldn’t even scream.

  Because in that moment, I realized something…

  Mo had just walked into paradise.

  And I was the only one who knew it was hell.

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