Derek headed toward Mr. Anderson’s room, preparing himself for the mental load of it all. It felt easier than it did two days ago. He wasn’t sure he’d ever enter Mr. Anderson’s office again, but he doubted his teacher would let him. He was quite the private guy.

  Eric appeared next to him. “Dude. Figure out how Mr. Anderson got his black eye.”

  Derek frowned, glancing at him. “What?”

  “Mr. Anderson showed up to school today with a black eye!” Eric said like it was the juiciest gossip Elmwood High had ever heard. “The guy is an ex-hitman for sure.”

  Derek chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Figure it out, man! Ex-CIA, ex-mafia, someone’s coming back to seek revenge. Baily’s pretty sure Mr. Anderson isn’t even American! Maybe he’s some sort of James Bond guy from England and escaped to America to restart his life!”

  Derek said bye to Eric before slipping into AP Biology. Mr. Anderson had his back to everyone as he wrote on the board. Derek took his seat, getting his notebook ready to take notes. Eric wouldn’t believe him even if he told the truth. It was unsettling that people could actually see the injuries, which made Derek adjust his sleeves to cover his wrists better.

  The class was quieter than usual. When Mr. Anderson turned around to gather some notes, everyone saw the bruise on his face and the class went silent. It was dark purple, not only covering his eye, but his cheek, too. Akshi hit him hard. Derek winced at remembering just how much force Akshi used with his elbow.

  The bell rang, and Mr. Anderson glanced at the class. “You have a test tomorrow. I have done what I can to make sure it’s as similar in structure to the final AP test as possible. Does anyone have questions about what material might be on the test?”

  It was so quiet Derek could hear Milo tinkering in the lab.

  “Very well.” Mr. Anderson uncapped his marker. “Let’s review some equations and formulas that you’ll come across on the test. Starting with statistical analysis and probably.”

  No one even groaned. Everyone pulled out their pencils, spines straight, shoulders back, and Derek picked up a wide variety of shocked faces. Mr. Anderson’s actions were quite clear. He would not acknowledge the black eye, and due to his prickly nature, he wouldn’t take questions on it, either. Derek hid his smirk as he wrote the equations Mr. Anderson was hastily scribbling on the board.

  Once the bell rang at the end of class, everyone left Mr. Anderson’s classroom, all of them exchanging hushed whispers. Derek put away his notebook before standing up and walking slowly toward Mr. Anderson’s desk. Most of the class was gone.

  “Hey,” Derek said.

  Mr. Anderson was erasing the whiteboard, but he glanced behind his shoulder and nodded at Derek. “Hey.”

  “I… don’t think I ever thanked you for saving me Saturday,” Derek said.

  “You’ll never have to,” Mr. Anderson said.

  Derek smiled. “Did you just quote batman?”

  “Damn right I did,” Mr. Anderson said.

  Derek snorted. “Well, thank you anyway.”

  Mr. Anderson set the eraser down. “I hope it never happens again, but we’ll all be here if it does.”

  “You know you’re going to be the talk of the school for that.” Derek pointed at Mr. Anderson’s black eye.

  Mr. Anderson sighed, touching it tenderly. “So they can see it?”

  “Yep. You know there're rumors about you being ex-CIA, right?” Derek asked.

  Mr. Anderson raised an eyebrow. “That’s pretty ridiculous.”

  “More ridiculous than what actually happened?”

  A flicker of a smile crossed Mr. Anderson’s face. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “There’s something I don’t quite get.” Derek’s smile dropped as he prepared to ask his question. “Akshi said your ex-wife left you because you’re boring.” He studied his teacher’s face, making sure he hadn’t stumbled on a sensitive subject. Obviously, it was sensitive, but this had been eating at Derek ever since Mr. Anderson showed up at the door, ready to beat the crime lord of Osvoroth to a pulp. “But… you’re obviously not if you’re willing to help us out.”

  Mr. Anderson glanced at the door, making sure no other students would show up. Derek didn’t expect a response. He had a feeling Mr. Anderson would simply show him the door like last time he brought up his family.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Of course I’m boring,” Mr. Anderson said instead. “I spend most of my day at my job, helping students. To the outside observer, I can see how that can come across as boring. It’s not my fault if my students have fantastical adventures.”

  Derek chuckled. “I suppose not.” Mr. Anderson smiled as he replaced his AP biology notes for chemistry. Some students started trickling into the classroom, and Derek knew Mr. Anderson wouldn’t want to talk about it anymore. “I’ll see you later.”

  Mr. Anderson nodded, then went to the board. Derek took a few steps before he saw Amy, one of his friends from a different class. He reached out and took her arm to stop her, dropping his voice.

  “He doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s the scariest thing. I just asked him where he got it, and he looked at me dead in the eye and said ‘Nothing.’ The guy has to be ex-CIA. There is no other explanation.”

  Amy gave him a strange look before she noticed Mr. Anderson glancing at Derek curiously, and her gaze fell on the black eye. Her eyes widened as she looked back at Derek. “Seriously?”

  He nodded, forcing himself to stay calm. “Seriously.”

  He dropped her arm before moving out of the classroom. Before disappearing into the hallway, he met Mr. Anderson’s almost bored but annoyed expression with a half-smile. If Derek played his cards right, no one would ask Mr. Anderson about his black eye and leave him alone. They’d also put him in legendary gossip status.

  Derek winked at his teacher, who responded by rolling his eyes before focusing on the board again. Derek smiled as he blended in with the other students in the hall.

  ***

  Nick put Evelyn’s car in park before getting out. He stuffed his keys in his pockets as he walked into the back of the store. His stomach hurt. He knew why. Grizzizzik’s suggestion was hanging over his head. If he was going to steal something from Mr. Morgan, today would be the easiest.

  But he couldn’t. He refused. Not Mr. Morgan. Not his future.

  Nick closed his eyes, losing the desire to walk into the store. How could he possibly do this? How could he tempt Walt again like this? His relationship with his sister was already hanging by a thread.

  Nick opened the door, stepping into the back of the store. He typed in his passcode before starting his shift. He fell into the rhythm of logging items into the computer before putting them in boxes. While he did so, he imagined every post-apocalyptic scenario that Chaos might start by him not stealing from Mr. Morgan.

  Perhaps he was being selfish, but nuclear fallout, zombie apocalypse, another world war. They were not as terrifying as placing his reputation with Mr. Morgan on the line. He might regret it next week. When civilization crumbled, what would it matter if he had something lined up for his future?

  Nick wiped his forehead as he heard Mr. Morgan walking down the steps. Nick checked his watch and saw it was already five in the evening. He went back to working until he saw a pair of nice dress shoes walking up to him.

  “Hey, Nick,” Mr. Morgan said. Nick didn’t say anything, simply stared at his boss. Mr. Morgan’s brow furrowed. “You okay?”

  Nick said the first thing that came to his mind. “Thank you.” This puzzled Mr. Morgan even further, so Nick continued. “The door. My phone. He… listens to you.”

  Mr. Morgan’s brows relaxed. “Ah. Yes. I’m glad he returned them. Do you need anything from me, Nick?”

  A phone call to the police. Helping him get out of blackmail. This was what Mr. Morgan assumed when he asked Nick the question. All it did was solidify in Nick’s mind that he wasn’t going to do it. Mr. Morgan was going to walk out that door, and Nick would keep working. He wouldn’t touch anything in this store.

  Nick shook his head, and Mr. Morgan nodded. “I’m here if you need me.”

  A lump formed in his throat as Nick nodded. Mr. Morgan smiled, then turned around and walked out the door.

  Nick closed his eyes, his heart at war. He never in a million years thought he would go up against a problem like this. He had spent the last few hours jumping to the worst conclusions for apocalypse, but now that he made his decision, he wasn’t sure what to think. Doom couldn’t be that bad, right? Chaos wasn’t completely unfiltered. There was always Order to keep him in check.

  Order. If Chaos was real, Order was, too. Was it possible for him to talk to her? It seemed plausible, but how? She was supposed to be there to keep her brother in check, right? That was the lore? That’s what Neal told her. Why wasn’t she stopping Chaos?

  Because Chaos went around this the way Order wanted. By making a contract. The idea fell into his head, making him close his eyes. He wondered why Chaos had done something like that when he was the literal personification of Chaos. Now it was clear. He did it to keep his sister off his back.

  Nick covered his face, trying to stay calm. There had to be a way. There must be a way. Order had to stop this. There was only so much Chaos he could handle before it was too much.

  Chaos. He was playing within the rules Order gave. Which made him realize Chaos wouldn’t start another world war. Or cause zombies to come out of the ground. Or a nuclear fallout. That was complete, unbound Chaos. If he tried any of that, his sister would stop him. So, it made sense that what Chaos would do was to remain within the bounds Order gave.

  But what were the bounds Order gave? In a way, Chaos was already disrupting their lives. They wouldn’t even be in this position if Chaos hadn’t messed things up. He was still messing things up. Why was Order taking a back seat? Why wasn’t she doing anything?

  Maybe with being Order, she needed someone to ask.

  Help us, Order. Please.

  He spoke it in his mind, a variation of that over and over. He added her name. Gave a detailed list of everything Chaos did and how she could stop it. It was a constant stream of begging Order to stop this. To give him an idea. Information on how to stop her brother.

  Nothing happened. No impression, no feeling. Nothing.

  “Nick?” He glanced up at his shift manager, Maria. She had her arms folded, gesturing toward the clock. “It’s eight fifteen. Shifts over.”

  “Right,” Nick couldn’t help but say. He finished taping up the last box before logging out. He was already in the car when he realized he hadn’t done what Grizzizzik asked. Maybe he could have stopped by tomorrow, since it was the last day he could do it, but he didn’t want to.

  His heart pounded as he got in the car. After hours of begging Order to do something, nothing happened. And he didn’t do what Chaos asked. He didn’t know what would happen tomorrow night, but he tried not to think about it. Did he even contact Order the right way? Either way, he could not damage his reputation with Mr. Morgan. The horror at what he’d done with his friends was already too much. He’d rather face the apocalypse than break anyone’s trust again.