It feels weird being back at school—especially after the long weekend we had. After seeing the mysterious boy at the Market, I decided to do a little bit of research every day—staying up late to read research articles and waking earlier to find explanations on why he would be there. He clearly wasn't a 20 or 24, which is why for the past days off from school, I have been on various websites hunting for any bits of info to why he would be outside. However, my searches have all been fruitless. Heading into school with a foggy mind, I groan loudly, causing some unknown 12s to look at me. I give them a stare and they turn away. I just want to get done with school and the battle at the Arena so I can go home. Walking into the spacious building's science wing, I go over my schedule. First period, Computer Design and Engineering. Second period, Physical Enhancement. Third period, Politics and Social Structure. Then go home for lunch. Back to school. Fourth period, Technology Operations and Prototype Construction. Fifth period, Intellectual Enhancement. Finally, Originality of Innovation. My brain starts to hurt again at these classes. I know they are designed to teach us Uppers the skills we need for the high-end jobs that Uppers hold—specifically 20s' and 24s' jobs in my case—but some of them are extremely boring.

After a long day at school, I meet Mason and Jason next to the Market. Being the first day back, no one was really productive. All we did was review the things we had before the long weekend. How to design a prototype. What changes to make. Different ways to restrain someone—for the future Officials. Social structure and current political discussions—especially after the law announcement. How to behave. What Ophir and their engineers need and use. How to design. The same thing over again. My brain is fried by the end. As I stand around, I hear conversations about the law announcement from a couple of days ago. The news is still settling in on everyone, and it is making the Lowers go crazy. I can hear whispers, low sounds of protest, resonating through each stand. I ignore them. I don't care about what they think.
"Hey, Owen," I hear Mason's low voice say as he approaches me. "How have you been? We've barely seen you since your party."
"I was a bit busy," I lie. I don't want to tell them about the boy I saw—for his benefit and mine. I know that I will never hear the end of it, the endless questions, if I tell anyone, even the twins in front of me who I consider my best friends.

"All right," Mason says. "Jason should be here any minute. Still up for Arena? We're going against Isaac again. Such a sore loser. We'll kick them to the curb again."

"Of course," I reply.

"We're counting on you again. It's a 3v3 this time. We need your good shots, all right?"
I nod as Jason shows up.

"Are you guys ready?" he asks.

"Let's go," I reply.

We quickly weave around the people scattered around the Market and head to the past time that has been our savior in the past—given an escape to take our minds off our darkest, most confused times. When we arrive, Isaac's team is already suited and waiting for us.

"Took you guys a while, huh? We thought you were too scared to come," he sneers. "Thought you losers were too scared to get beat."

"You're just saying that because you know you're going to lose," I hear Jason reply.

"Cocky, huh? You only won last time cause he," he says while pointing at me, "got a lucky shot in."

"Whatever you want to believe," Mason butts in. "Let's just get started. We'll let the winner of this get the last word in."
"Game on," Isaac says as he narrows his eyes.

The owner of Arena, who is a middle age man named Emmerson with a round belly and has grown to be a familiar sight over the last couple of years since we discovered Arena, hands Jason, Mason, and me three turquoise, glowing stones before leaving the room. Stuffing them inside our pocket, the guns appear in our hands—glowing a ghostly blue against Isaac's team's haunting red. In the now dim area, we turn around, observing the Arena. The surrounding bulbs light up around us as I hear the countdown. Pulling on Jason and Mason's arms, I dash away.

"Run before we find you!" I hear Isaac yell from behind.

I pull them to the other side of the Arena before I come to a stop.

Looking around, I say, "Here's the plan. Get Isaac out first."

"Definitely," the twins agree at the same time.

"Jason, you go first and act as a distraction. I'll sneak up behind and get him out. I'll try to get the other two out and Mason, you come in for my backup."

"Got it," they say as Mason nods.
We split up, with me trailing a little behind Jason and Mason taking the long way to surround them.

"Hey!" I hear Jason shout. "Are you scared?"

His call is answered by a round of shots. He ducks and rolls away from the fire before getting up on his knees and shooting back. I hear something shatter and realize that he got shot. Nice job, Jason! The boy on Isaac's team gets teleported to the loser's waiting area and Jason looks around. Giving me a thumbs up, he walks toward me with triumph glinting in his eyes. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see someone sneaking away. Aiming at the glowing stone strapped to his wrist, I fire and the stone shatters. The boy disappears, teleported to the loser's area. Nodding to each other, Jason and I split up and I make my way around the Arena, scanning the top layer from the bottom ever so often to look for Isaac. I make a full circle around the Arena before I see a shadowed figure in the middle looking around. The only thing I can see is a faint glow from the stone—glowing red. Slowly, I raise my gun to take a shot, but he notices anyway and jumps out the way as I fire at him. Rushing forward, I chase after him. As he weaves and dives around obstacles, I stumble and lose sight of him. As I recover, I glance around for any hints to his whereabouts. Turning constantly as to never expose my back for too long, I search for his stone. When I see a short flicker of red near the corner, I dash there instantly, not willing to risk the chance of losing him again. Reaching the corner, I glance around in confusion. He is not here. Then, I feel a heavy weight against my back, pushing me to the ground.

"What's going on?" I yelp, confused, to no one in particular as I am slammed against the wall and pushed into the ground.

"You are going down," I hear Isaac's menacing voice say.

As I try to get up and say something, he rushes forward and punches me in the face.

"What the?" I yell and spit the blood out of my mouth. "Are you crazy?"

Laughing and shaking his head, he aims for my face again, but I dodge it.

"You missed," I taunt as I raise my gun to shoot.
Growling lowly, he snarls, "You messed up this time."

He launches himself at me and I dodge left, but he changes direction at the last minute and locks his hands around my neck. Grunting, I attempt to push him off me.

"Get off me!" I scream through a choked breath.

"No!" he screams back as he keeps strangling me with one hand and starts punching me with the other. Reaching into my pocket, he grabs my stone and, raising it about my face, crushes it in his bare hands.

"Goodbye!" he waves sarcastically as my gun deteriorates and I am teleported to the ground of the loser's area.

Groaning, I attempt to sit up.

"Oh no! What happened to you?" I hear Jason's concerned voice as he kneels next to me and helps me sit up. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Nothing really happened," I reply.

"Are you sure? You look awful," he says.

"I'm fine," I assure him.

He helps me sit in a chair and grabs me a bottle of water. Suddenly noticing how painful my face is, I reach up and touch my lips. When I look at my hand, they are a crimson, blood red. Wiping my hands on my shirt quickly, I reach for the bottle that Jason brought me. The room grows silent when Mason and Isaac appear in the room.

"Who won?" one of Isaac's team members ask.

"Of course I did," Isaac responds. "You think I would lose to these losers here?"

"Sorry guys," Mason apologizes. "I should have known he was coming. He snuck up on me."
"It's all right," I hear Jason reply.
"What happened to you," Mason asks as he turns to me. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," I reply. "Just a bit sore."
Narrowing his eyes in thought, he shrugs after a moment of pause and replies, "All right."

Emmerson walks in the room and, noticing my cut lip and bruised eye, walks to me and asks, "Are you all right? You look pretty terrible."

"I'm fine," I reply again.

"All right. Good game, you guys! I'll leave you guys to your end game courtesy!" he says before leaving the room.

We line up to give each other handshakes, Isaac wearing a smug expression on his face. As I shake his hand, I realize blood on his hand—presumably from me.

As soon as I finish my handshakes, I turn to the leave for home only to hear Mason scream and curse, "You son of a gun!"

Following the sound a slap, I turn around to the scene of Mason slapping Isaac in the face. For a second, the world stops—suspends in the thin line between reality and fantasy. Then Isaac turns. With bloodthirsty eyes and a cold stare, he lunges at Mason, knocking him to the ground and pinning him in place.
"You're dead to me!" he threatens.
As Mason struggles to break free of Isaac's grasp, Jason throws himself at Isaac, successfully unseating him. Gasping for breath, Mason groans and sits up as Jason and Isaac roll around, throwing punches and jabs at each other.

Watching the scene in front of me unfold, a heavy pulse sends a burning sensation through my skull, prompting me to scream, "Stop! Please just stop it!"

"I don't care what you think!" Isaac yells at me, rage coursing through his blood like a drug, before punching Jason straight in the jaw.

Letting out a low, beastly howl, Mason moves to rejoin the battle but I rush forward and hold onto his shoulder, preventing him from moving.

In a small voice—that is completely unlike me—I plead, "Please. Let's just go. Jason? Mason?"
Sighing, Mason turns and looks at his brother with a questioning look. Jason nods as he delivers a final punch to Isaac before joining us. We turn as Isaac's teammates pick him up from the ground.

Wiping blood from his face, he screams, "I'll remember this!"

As we exit Arena and head toward my house, me limping in the middle with Jason on my left and Mason on my right, Jason asks, "Are you really all right? He could really pack a punch."
"I'll be all right," I reply. "Just a few cuts and bruises. Nothing major."
"All right," he shrugs. "That son of a gun. He knows the rules. He can't just beat you up like that. You know it's not fine that he did that, right?"

Cocking my eyebrows, I state the obvious fact that they seem to have forgotten, "He's a 24."

Instantly the atmosphere deflates as Jason replies, defeated, "You're right."

When we reach my house, Mason says, "Rest, all right?"

I nod in reply and watch them run off in the sunset, back to their own house. Sighing, I walk in the front door and immediately to my room. I scare myself when I walk past the mirror. Quickly, I clean myself up—wash the blood from my face and fix my hair—before lifting up my shirt. There they are, fresh bruises dotting and contrasting against the ivory skin. I shake my head and walk into my bedroom. Time to research. 

Author's Notes

Valentine's is soon guys!! Thank you so much for reading this chapter! If you enjoyed please leave a vote or comment on what you think about this!

Q: Any plans for Valentine's?
A: Nope, I'm sad... I do have a school field trip that day though to a mine for Earth Science.

See you guys at the next update! It will be before or on Monday!