Arden Hayes stared at the rubber ball in Jaxon Reed's hand, its bright blue surface mocking him as it spun lazily in the air. The classroom buzzed with noise students laughing, balls bouncing, Professor Marrow's sharp voice cutting through every few seconds with a "Focus!" or "Again!" Arden's palms were sweaty, his glasses slipping down his nose, and Jaxon's grin wasn't helping.
"Come on, Dodgeball," Jaxon said, tossing the ball up and catching it without looking. "Five seconds, right? Show me what you've got."
"Stop calling me that," Arden muttered, wiping his hands on his uniform pants. "And give me a second to think."
"Thinking's overrated." Jaxon lobbed the ball at him, not hard but fast enough to make Arden flinch. Instinct kicked in the same panic from gym class, that split-second dread of getting smacked. He threw his hands up, heart slamming against his ribs, and...
Nothing.
The ball hit his chest with a dull thump and rolled onto the floor. A few kids nearby snickered, and Jaxon laughed outright. "Nice one, Hayes. Real masterful."
"Shut up," Arden snapped, snatching the ball off the ground. His face burned. Five seconds yesterday, zero today. What was the difference? He'd stopped time with that dodgeball, why couldn't he do it now?
Marrow's voice cut through the room. "Three minutes left. Results, not excuses."
Arden glared at the ball in his hand. "Fine. Again."
Jaxon raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "You sure? Don't wanna bruise that delicate ego."
"Just throw it," Arden said through gritted teeth.
Jaxon shrugged and tossed it higher this time, an arc that gave Arden a heartbeat to react. He focused, digging into that jittery feeling in his gut. Stop. Stop. STOP. The ball peaked, started its descent, and...
The air shivered. Sound dropped out, like someone flipped a mute switch. The ball hung mid-flight, frozen against the classroom's shimmering chalkboard. Jaxon's smirk was locked in place, mid-taunt, one hand still raised. Across the room, Mira Kline was caught reaching for her own ball, braid swinging in a perfect still arc.
Arden exhaled, shaky but triumphant. "Got it."
He counted one, two, three, four, five and time snapped back. The ball thudded into his hands, and Jaxon blinked, grin faltering for half a second before sliding back into place.
"Not bad," Jaxon said, clapping slowly. "Five seconds on command. You're almost useful."
"Almost?" Arden shot back, clutching the ball like a trophy. "That was perfect."
"Perfect's a stretch," a soft voice said from behind him. Arden turned to see Mira Kline, her dark eyes fixed on him as she rolled her own ball between her palms. "It's sloppy. You're reacting, not controlling."
"Says who?" Arden frowned, caught off guard by her bluntness. She'd barely said two words before now.
"Says me." Mira shrugged, voice quiet but firm. "I slow time. I know what control looks like. Yours is all panic."
"Panic works," Arden said, defensive. "It stopped, didn't it?"
"For now," she replied, turning back to her desk. "Keep panicking, and it'll break you."
Arden opened his mouth to argue, but Marrow clapped his hands, sharp and final. "Time's up. Results."
One by one, students called out. Mira slowed her ball for two seconds smooth, deliberate, like she'd said. Jaxon rewound his throw three times, smirking each time the ball zipped back to his hand. A girl named Tasha sped hers up, making it bounce twice as fast. When it was Arden's turn, he stood, ball still in hand.
"Five seconds," he said, forcing his voice steady. "Stopped it midair."
Marrow nodded, jotting something on a clipboard. "Noted. Raw, but promising. Next."
Arden sat, a mix of pride and irritation swirling in his chest. Promising? He'd take it. But Mira's words gnawed at him panic, not control. Was she right?
"Break time," Marrow announced, setting the clipboard down. "Ten minutes, then we're back for theory. Don't wander far."
The room erupted into chatter as kids stretched and spilled into the hall. Jaxon kicked his chair back, grinning at Arden. "Not bad for a newbie. Wanna grab a soda?"
"Sure," Arden said, still half-distracted. He followed Jaxon out, but his eyes drifted to Mira, who stayed at her desk, scribbling in a notebook. She didn't look up.
The hallway vending machine hummed, spitting out a cold can of cola that Jaxon tossed to Arden. They leaned against the wall, the tick of wall clocks filling the silence.
"So," Jaxon said, cracking his own can. "Five seconds. That's big for a first try. Mine was barely one when I started."
"Yeah?" Arden popped his tab, taking a sip. "What's the trick, then? How do you make it… not panic?"
Jaxon laughed. "You don't. Panic's the spark control's the muscle. Takes practice. Me, I rewound so many dumb mistakes, spilled drinks, tripped steps, till it clicked."
"Practice," Arden echoed, staring at the can. "Guess I've got a lot of that ahead."
"Yep. And dodgeballs to dodge." Jaxon smirked, dodging Arden's halfhearted swat. "Relax, Hayes. You'll get it."
Arden grunted, but a small grin tugged at his lips. Jaxon was a jerk, sure, but he wasn't the worst company. Still, Mira's warning lingered. Break you. What did that even mean?
Back in the classroom, Marrow was already at the board, chalk in hand. "Seats," he barked as they filed in. "Theory time. Temporal energy where it comes from, why it matters. Pay attention, or you'll regret it."
Arden slid into his spot, glancing at Mira. She met his gaze this time, just for a second, then looked away. Her pencil tapped against her notebook slow, steady, like a countdown.
He shook it off, focusing on Marrow's lecture. Energy. Control. Time. He'd figure it out one sloppy, panicky second at a time.