THREE DAYS. That was the amount of time I gave myself to fix whatever was going on with me. Mom made me stay home from school the first day, so I spent that time staring at the syringe and trying to figure out what it had read. Okay, maybe I didn't spend the whole day doing that...I was also watching Netflix and talking to Rory on the roof.

I went to school on the second day. Ben asked me if I was okay, and I said yes, and he let the matter drop, thankfully. Dana avoided me.

Day three: also uneventful. I ran the mile by myself and waited to see if I would feel sick again, and when I didn't, I climbed up the rope and climbed down. Nothing happened.

My conclusion: I was okay. I must not have been in good health that day, and the run and the fall from the rope made me feel a little sick. That was all.

Today was Academic Bowl day. After school, I would be going to support Ben and his team. He'd worked so hard, and I'd spent many nights at his place helping him study. I even made a sign that said "Go Wilson Terriers!" with glitter and shiny stickers and everything. I loved being the supportive friend.

When the bell rang for lunch, I went up to the library, where Ben and the rest of his team were cramming in some last-minute studying. Fei, whose strongest subject was physics, was solving a coupled motion problem on the whiteboard, and I could barely follow her hand because she was writing so fast.

Kevin, the history geek, greeted me with a nod when I sat down at the table. He offered me an oatmeal-raisin cookie, and I took one, appreciating the high sugar content. Across from me was Ayomikun, whose specialty was geography. As soon as I finished my cookie, she asked me where the city of Cusco was.

"Cusco," I repeated. Like the llama?  "Uh, South America?"

"Close enough." She pointed to Cusco in the atlas book she was flipping through.

"Peru," I said, nodding. "Got it."

It was our little starting ritual. Every time I showed up to help them study or to just talk to them, one of them would quiz me. Ayomikun's questions were the hardest because I was terrible at geography, but I was okay with everything else. They knew that, and since they were sadistic, they usually had Ayomikun do the ritual.

The team advisor, Mr. Johnson, entered the library and greeted us with a smile. He set down his preparation binder just as Fei finished her problem and capped her marker. Ayomikun closed her atlas, and Kevin once again offered up his cookies.

He was an incredible baker, and being the son of a baker, I could appreciate well-cooked food, so of course I took another one. Everyone chewed as Mr. Johnson explained the day's event. The bus would be taking the team to Canary High, where the district competition was being held. They would study now, they would study on the bus, and they were probably going to study every second they had free.

He finished talking, took one of Kevin's cookies, and held it up in a toast. "To the Terriers!" he exclaimed, and we all repeated him.

I flipped through the study guide Ben handed to me and read off the questions for him to answer. He got every single one right, but he was still worried out of his mind. The competition wasn't solely about intelligence: it was also about thinking under pressure, and even though he had plenty of practice, it was still scary.

"You'll be great," I assured him, flipping to the last page.

"You always say that," Ben replied, his knee bouncing up and down nervously.

I lowered the paper to look at him over the edge. "And you always do well when I say that, don't you?"

He opened his mouth to argue, but the bell rang. I handed him the guide, thanked Kevin for the cookies, and ran off to Spanish. I used to take French, but I had decided within the first week that I simply could not understand which letters to pronounce and which to skip, so I switched to Spanish.

The rest of my classes flew by, and before I knew it, the school day ended. I was on my knees, digging through my locker and getting the books I needed. My locker was a bottom locker, and Ben's was above me. And guess whose locker was next to mine? Yup. Dana Edgar's.

She was at it now, but my door was blocking her face, and I didn't glance in her direction. She hadn't bothered me since the rope incident, and I couldn't tell if it was because she was still sorry or if she'd gotten bored with me. Either way, I was content with her ignorance.

I had known Dana since seventh grade, and even though she was always a little rude, she'd gotten worse about a year ago, when we found out we were related. Our moms had met and discovered that they had the same distant uncle, and so of course Dana and I were told about it, and we were expected to magically become friends. The exact opposite happened: Dana hated me even more.

I took my glittery sign out of my locker and gently closed the door, not wanting to slam it and provoke Dana. I walked out of the building and waved at the team as they boarded the bus. They'd offered for me to go with them since I was going to Canary High anyway to support them, but I had to stop by somewhere, so I'd be taking the train instead.

My tri-fold sign was folded under my arm as I walked to the pharmacy to get Mom's eye drops. After that, I headed to the station. The train was packed, as usual, so I was standing, my fingers curled against a pole as the vehicle sped along. I stared out the window most of the time, and occasionally I swept my gaze around, observing each face for about half a second.

The guy in the back was making me uncomfortable.

He was dressed in black, including gloves, but he didn't have a ski mask or anything. Maybe I was wary because of the rooftop incident, but he looked kind of...odd. His backpack was in his lap, his arms draped around it, and he was leaning the back of his head against the window. There was something sinister about his cold expression, but it could've easily been simple boredom.

I turned away, realizing I had been looking for too long. Against my better judgement, and to try and show that I was minding my own business, I put my headphones in. The train was still loud, but at least I could pretend that I couldn't hear anything.

Stop it, I told myself. There's nothing wrong. Don't be judgy.

Curse me and my curiosity, but only a minute later, I found myself looking at the man again. He was standing now, his backpack hanging on one shoulder, his hand against a pole. He was awfully close to a woman sitting nearby, but she was busy with her tablet and didn't notice.

As soon as the train stopped and the doors slid open, the man ripped the necklace off her neck and started running.

And faster than I ever thought I could react, I grabbed hold of his backpack as he went past me and yanked him backwards. He crashed to the floor, and I took the necklace from him as a cop from the station barged in, calling in the incident on his walkie-talkie. The man on the ground was glaring at me, and I stared at him as I slowly stepped away, absentmindedly handing the woman her necklace.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, clutching the thin but no doubt expensive gold chain. "That was very impressive."

I shifted my feet uncomfortably. Impressive? Yes. That feat had been very impressive. But I had never been able to react that fast and I certainly was not strong enough to yank someone back like that...

Oh my goodness.

That syringe gave me superpowers. Or a disease. I hadn't figured it out yet.

"Thanks," I mumble, trying to brush the matter under the rug.

She was scrutinizing me with an innocently curious gaze that suddenly turned harsh. Her eyes landed on my neck, and she murmured, "Is that a mosquito bite?"

My hand instinctively went to my neck, and I felt the tiny bump that was still healing. "Yeah," I answered, dragging out the word as I decided that she was a complete stranger and I shouldn't be sticking around. I turned and walked down the stairs to the street, not looking back.

When I reached Canary High, I went straight into the cafeteria. A raised platform on the far end held empty tables for the teams, who were probably preparing backstage. I sat down in the audience section, unfolding my sign and leaning it against the leg of my chair. Besides the native Canary students and faculty, I was the first spectator here.

The curtains suddenly parted, and Ben's head poked out. When he saw me, he made a flapping gesture with his hand. I blinked, confused, and he mouthed the words come here. Then his head disappeared behind the curtain. I sat still, hesitating; I had never been allowed backstage before, and I didn't understand why he was calling me now.

I left my sign and my backpack by my chair as I maneuvered through the rows and went up to the stage and through the curtain. I saw Ben, Fei, Ayomikun, and Mr. Johnson huddled in a corner, but Kevin was nowhere to be found. Ben grabbed my arm and pulled me toward them.

"What is it?" I asked.

"You need to sit in for Kevin."

"Why?"

"Kevin's asthma flared up," Fei replied. "He's fine, but he had to leave."

I turned to Ben and shrugged. "So just do it with the three of you."

He shook his head, getting nervous as more participants arrived. "The rules say that a team must consist of no more than six people and no less than four. We can't go on with three."

The words instant disqualification went unsaid, but I knew that was what would happen. The academic team wasn't a popular club at our school—if it was, we would have plenty of backup teammates to fill in for emergencies like this. All they had now was me.

"You're smart, Peter," Ayomikun said encouragingly. "You'll be fine."

I vehemently shook my head. "No way. I've never done this before!"

"Come on," Ben urged, eyes wide and pleading.

I shook my head again. "I'm going to mess up and you're going to hate me."

He scoffed, invalidating my argument. "I've known you since second grade," he said. "Trust me, I won't hate you. You don't even have to say anything, just sit up there with us."

I wanted to decline again, but he was right. I didn't have to say anything, I was smart enough to be on the team (I hoped), and he was my best friend. He had dragged me to the nurse when he was probably thinking that I was having a heart attack, and I knew he was still worried about that episode. I could at least do this for him.

"Fine." I sighed. "But please don't depend on me for any answers."

"Oh, no," Fei joked. "We definitely won't."

I pretended to be offended, and Ben went to inform the judges that we would still be competing. I pushed the curtain aside as I stepped off the stage, going to my original seat to prop up my sign on the chair. I wouldn't be able to support from the audience, but at least my sign would still be there.

When I went backstage again, I realized something as I looked around at all the competitors. Everyone, my team included, was wearing nice button down shirts, dresses, and loafers. What was I wearing? A sweatshirt with a marker stain on the sleeve, jeans, and sneakers. I didn't look horrible, but I didn't look classy enough to compete.

I tapped Ben's shoulder and gestured down at myself, and he nodded. "We need to find something else for you to wear," he said.

"No duh," I replied. But why would anyone bring extra clothes, especially something formal?

Ben, apparently. "I have an extra shirt," he said proudly, pointing at his backpack.

I stared at him for a second, gesturing at him and then at me. We were vastly different sizes, and I didn't know what would look stupider: me wearing my stained sweatshirt or me wearing a shirt that, although fancy, was very obviously too big.

I took his backpack and went to the bathroom to try anyway, and when I looked at myself in the mirror after changing, I decided that my ratty sweatshirt was my best bet. Ben's shirt was pristine maroon and wrinkle-free, but it was too large. The cuffs went well past my wrists, and even though I'd done all the buttons and folded the sleeves and the collar and tucked it into my jeans, it hung too loose.

I changed back, stuffed his shirt into his backpack, and joined them backstage. All of the teams had arrived, and now we were waiting for the judges to call the start.

"I don't know why you even tried." Ben laughed as I shoved his backpack at him. "It obviously wasn't going to fit."

I scowled, straightening my sweatshirt and retying my shoelaces to look as professional as possible. "Then why did you tell me to wear it?" I grumbled.

He opened his mouth to answer, probably something along the lines of "I thought it would be funny," when Canary High's PA system rang to life. The judges called for all the teams to go to their respective tables.

We went through the curtain and found our table on the stage, and as I sat down, I skimmed the audience to see that my sign was still propped up, looking fabulous.

There were four teams competing, including Canary High, who always hosted the first event. Two teams had five people, one had six, and ours was the only one with four. I swallowed, feeling nervous. I never considered myself to have stage fright because I'd never been on a stage, and even though I wasn't planning to participate, I felt like I was going to screw everything up. I was already getting dirty looks from people because of my attire.

The competition began, and I kept silent. The first round was simple: the team that hit the buzzer first would answer the question. If they got it right, they got points. If they got it wrong, the question went to the next team. We were doing fine.

Then came the technical science and math round. The first to finish the given problem got the points. We left the work to Fei, who was much faster than all of us, and we watched as she worked, occasionally pointing out errors or helping her when she was stuck. We were doing fine in that round, too.

And then came the elimination round, the round that was worth the most points. Like the first round, it was a mixed bag of trivia, but there were no buzzers. One by one, the teams were each asked questions of equal subject and difficulty. If any team got one wrong in a round where the rest of the teams got their questions right, that team was out. Two teams were already out, and it was just us and Canary High. Whoever slipped up next would lose, unless we both slipped up. Then we would continue until someone lost their edge.

Canary beat us in the first round, and we beat them in the second. If we managed to win this one, we'd win the whole competition. We all held our breaths as Canary answered their question, and we practically jumped when they got it wrong.

"If Wilson High gets this one right," the head judge said, picking another card from their stack, "they win."

Our question would be the same level of difficulty as Canary's, to make it fair, and we looked at each other nervously, because Canary's question had been a history one.

And history was Kevin's specialty.

"In what battle did General Stonewall Jackson sustain a life-threatening injury that ultimately led to his death?"

I froze. We all froze. What kind of a name was Stonewall? What war even was this? We leaned our heads forward into a little huddle, and Ayomikun reminded us that it was the Civil War, and a bunch of battle names came to my mind slowly. Gettysburg? No. Shiloh? No, that wasn't it either.

Chancellorsville.

I opened my mouth and then immediately clamped it shut. What if I was wrong? I'd be ruining their victory, and I wasn't even supposed to talk at all.

"Peter?" Ben asked. "You look like you want to say something."

"I...don't think it's right," I stammered, shaking my head.

Fei shrugged. "Well, we don't know either, so you may as well try."

They all leaned out of the huddle, ending our deliberation and leaving me no choice. I slowly turned in my chair, facing the judges. My palms went sweaty. Ben was right, this competition was intense, and it took me until now to fully understand the nerve-wracking scrutiny of the audience.

I took a deep breath, swallowed, and timidly said, "Chancellorsville?"

As soon as I saw the Canary students twitch in frustration, I knew I was right. The head judge grinned and announced Wilson High as the winner, and we all erupted into cheers and hugs.

"Seriously," Mr. Johnson said to me, "you could join the team."

I laughed nervously. "No thanks. That was enough."

I left the team in their excitement and went to get my sign and my backpack, intending to go straight home. I had a lot of homework to do, and Mom was still making me eat chicken soup, and it usually took me about forty minutes to choke a bowl of it down.

I waved goodbye to the team, hopped over the audience chairs, and went to the aboveground station to catch the train.

As suspected, Mom had a bowl of soup on the table for me, and she went to go take a shower only after I ate the first spoonful. She was convinced that soup would help with any sickness, and her concoction was no doubt full of flavor and technically perfect, but I had a strange but strong dislike of all soups. I sat there, grumbling as I sipped tiny spoonfuls.

When I was halfway done, there was a knock on the door. I got up, grateful to get a break from the soup. I had no clue who it could be; I wasn't expecting any company today because Ben would be out celebrating with the team. My words of greeting died on my tongue when I swung the door open and saw who stood there.

The man wore a black coat, a coat that wasn't necessary on this warm day. For a second I thought that maybe he simply had the wrong apartment number, but he didn't look like the kind to make mistakes. There was nothing menacing about him but nothing warm, either, and he held up a badge that made my blood run cold.

"I'm Agent Thomas Kavanagh from the FBI," he said. "May I come in?"

☆.................................................................................................................☆