The hum of fluorescent lights mixed with the quiet clatter of keyboards. I leaned back in my chair, eyes scanning the data flickering across my screen.
Around me, the lab buzzed softly—colleagues murmuring hypotheses, the occasional beep from an analyzer, the low thrum of machines doing their patient work.
"Have you run the enzyme assays from the latest batch?" Mira asked, her voice sharp but steady.
I nodded.
"Yeah, the results are consistent. The modified protein shows increased stability under heat stress—exactly what we were aiming for."
Jin rubbed the back of his neck, frowning.
"But does it maintain functionality? Stability’s no good if the protein can’t do its job."
"Functionality holds up in vitro," I replied.
"Next step is testing in cell cultures."
Mira glanced at me.
"We need to see if it survives the immune response in vivo. That’s the real challenge."
I tapped my fingers on the desk, thoughts spinning.
"If this works, it could change how we approach resilience in damaged tissue. We’re talking healing on a whole new level."
Jin smirked.
"Or it’ll blow up in our faces and we’ll be cleaning up a mess for months."
The room filled with quiet laughter, but my mind drifted for a moment.
I glanced over at Mira, who was already typing notes into her tablet. She never lost focus, not even when the conversation veered toward the unknown.
Jin was still smirking, but I could see the worry behind his eyes.
"We should have preliminary results from the tissue regeneration trial by next week," Mira said without looking up.
"If the immune response holds steady, this could be the breakthrough we’ve been chasing."
I nodded, but the weight of her words felt heavier than usual. Breakthrough. The word floated between us like a fragile promise—and sometimes promises were the most dangerous things to keep.
"Did you see the latest report from the field team?" Jin asked suddenly, breaking my thoughts.
"No," I said, raising an eyebrow.
"They encountered some unexpected mutations in the viral vectors we’re using. Nothing we can’t handle, but—"
"But it means the system isn’t as stable as we hoped," Mira finished.
I leaned forward, fingers steepled.
"It’s still early, but we need to watch it closely. Any slight mutation could cascade."
The room grew quieter as the reality settled in. We were pushing boundaries, threading a fine line between genius and disaster.
A sharp ping broke my focus—my phone, maybe the lab’s system, I couldn’t tell. The message blinked once on the edge of my screen before vanishing.
Before I could react, the lab doors hissed shut behind me. A figure stepped through, their presence shifting the room’s energy instantly.
"Zane," the newcomer said, voice calm but edged with urgency.
"We need to talk. Now."
I recognized her immediately—Dr. Mara Voss, the head of research oversight. Rarely did she visit the lab without cause.
"What’s this about?" I asked, masking my concern.
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, her eyes scanned the team, landing on each of us.
"There’s been a development. Something you need to see."
Mira exchanged a worried glance with Jin. I felt my pulse quicken. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
Dr. Voss’s eyes locked onto mine.
"Zane, I need you to come to my lab after your shift. There’s something urgent I want to show you—it’s not related to your current project, but it concerns you."
I frowned, curiosity flickering.
"After work, then. I’ll come by."
She gave a curt nod, then turned and strode toward the exit.
Mira and Jin exchanged uneasy looks.
"Something’s up," Mira said quietly.
Once Dr. Voss left, I finally tapped into the message.
Mae.
> ‘Zane please can you come to my school? I'm in trouble. Please don’t tell Mom and Dad. Just come.’
I stared at the words, exhaling sharply. She didn’t say what kind of trouble, which usually meant it was the kind she didn’t want to explain over text. I stepped out into the lab and hit call.
She picked up immediately.
"Mae. What happened?" I asked, voice calm but wary.
A pause.
"Promise you won’t be mad?" she said, her voice small, almost pleading.
"That depends entirely on how much trouble you’re in," I replied, trying to keep my tone steady.
"I… might be getting suspended," she admitted quietly, guilt weighing on her words.
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Suspended. For what?" I asked, sharper now.
"I—okay, so there was this substitute teacher, and she kept insulting the kids who weren’t doing well. Saying we were hopeless. So I told her off. I might’ve called her an embarrassment to education. Loudly." she explained, a hint of defensiveness creeping in.
"You what?" I groaned, frustration slipping through my calm.
"Everyone clapped," she added quickly, as if that would make it better.
"Mae. That’s not a defense."
"She deserved it!" she snapped back, voice rising.
"You could’ve gone to the principal. Or called me. Or literally not insulted a teacher in front of the entire class," I said, tone stern but trying to keep her grounded.
"She’s not a real teacher," Mae muttered, softer now, regret edging her words.
"And now they’re saying I was ‘disruptive’ and ‘disrespectful.’ They’re calling Mom in tomorrow but… I was hoping you could talk to my class teacher today. Just smooth things over. Please," she pleaded, desperation clear.
"No," I said flatly, exhaustion and frustration mixing in my voice.
"I have work. I can’t just leave midweek to clean up your mess because you can’t keep your temper in check."
"But—" she started, voice trembling.
"You’re not a child, Mae. You’re in high school. Handle it," I interrupted, firm and final.
I hung up before she could argue more.
The silence lasted maybe five seconds.
Then the phone lit up again.
And again.
I let it ring out twice. On the third time, I groaned and picked up.
"What now?" I said, irritation clear.
A pause. Then her voice, small but deliberate:
"Zane Calix," she said, tone serious—like a warning.
My full name. She only pulled that card when she was desperate.
"I’m serious," she said, voice cracking with emotion.
"What’s the point of all the tuition and extra classes you paid for if I get kicked out over this? I’m not wrong, Zane. I just… didn’t say it the right way."
I closed my eyes, rubbing my temple. She had a point. And she knew exactly how to press it.
"One time," I said, voice softening.
"I’ll come. But you’re apologizing. And you’re explaining everything to Mom before she hears it from the school."
"Yes! Thank you! You’re the best—" she said, relief flooding her words.
"Mae," I said, voice steady.
"Right. Apologizing. Got it," she answered quickly.
I ended the call and sighed.
Of all the emergencies I was prepared for, my sister going full courtroom drama in her classroom wasn’t one of them.
I glanced at the time, exhaled hard, then tapped Dr. Voss’s contact.
She answered almost immediately.
"Zane."
"Umm... Dr. Voss," I said, keeping my tone respectful.
"I’m really sorry, but something’s come up. It’s… my sister. Her school. I need to head out and deal with it."
There was a pause.
"Is everything alright?"
"It will be," I said.
"Just a bit of trouble she got into. Nothing serious, but I can’t ignore it."
"I see," she said, voice neutral but measured.
"I wanted to let you know I won’t be able to make it to your lab today," I added quickly.
"But I’ll come first thing tomorrow. I promise."
Another beat of silence. Then:
"Alright. Tomorrow, then."
"Thank you. I appreciate it," I said, relief in my voice.
"Take care of your sister," she said.
The line clicked off.
I tucked the phone away, already feeling the weight of the long evening ahead.
I stepped back into the lab, pulling off my gloves.
Mira looked up from her monitor.
"Everything okay?"
"Kind of," I said with a sigh.
"I need to take a half-day. Mae’s gotten herself into some school drama. Suspension-level drama."
Jin glanced over the top of his tablet.
"Yikes. What’d she do?"
"Gave her substitute teacher a verbal beatdown. Publicly. Loudly," I said.
"Now they want to kick her out."
Mira let out a soft laugh.
"She really is your sister."
I shot her a flat look.
"I’m heading to her school before she makes things worse."
"You letting Lorne know?" Jin asked.
"On my way now," I said, already moving toward the office.
A few minutes later, I came back, slipping my ID badge off.
"She’s fine with it," I said.
"Told me to go save the day and get back before we start next week’s sequencing."
Mira grinned.
"Tell Mae to go easy on the faculty next time."
"I’ll try. No promises," I said, pulling on my jacket.
"Cover for me?"
"You got it," Jin said with a nod.
I gave them both a grateful look.
"I’ll be back tomorrow. Hopefully with fewer fires to put out."
The late afternoon air hit me as I stepped out into the parking lot. The sun was low, casting long shadows between the rows of cars. I moved quickly to mine, tossed my bag in the passenger seat, and slid behind the wheel.
As the engine hummed to life, the car’s Bluetooth auto-connected. I tapped the call button on the steering wheel.
Mae picked up on the first ring.
"Are you coming?" she asked, her voice tight with nerves.
"I’m on the way," I said, pulling out of the lot.
"Just keep things from getting worse until I get there."
"I’m trying," she said, her tone defensive.
"But if they suspend me before you show up—"
"They won’t. Just stay calm. No more speeches. No more arguments," I said firmly.
There was a pause, then a sigh.
"Okay. I’ll try."
"Good. I’ll be there in a few hours," I said.
"Text me the building number again."
"Already did. And… thanks," she said quietly.
I didn’t say anything for a second, just kept my eyes on the road.
Then, softer, I replied,
"You owe me a very big apology speech, by the way."
She laughed, a little.
I ended the call and pressed the gas harder. This day wasn’t done with me yet.
By the time I reached the edge of my hometown, the sky had turned a smoky gray, clouds threatening rain.
The school loomed just ahead, a three-story building that hadn't changed much since the last time I'd been here. Still the same chipped paint, still the same rusted gates.
I parked near the front office and checked my messages. Mae had sent the building number—B3. Figures she wouldn’t meet me at the front.
I made my way through the narrow pathways, past clusters of students staring like I didn’t belong. When I finally found Building B3, Mae was there, sitting on the steps like she’d been waiting forever. Her uniform was wrinkled, her expression a mix of guilt and impatience.
"Took you long enough," she muttered, standing up.
I gave her a look.
"Takes time to clean up messes when I wasn’t the one who made them."
Mae scoffed.
"It wasn’t even that big of a deal."
"You called me three times. It’s a big deal."
She crossed her arms.
"I just told the sub not to talk to us like we were idiots. She got offended."
"And what exactly did you say?" I asked.
She hesitated.
"I might’ve... called her a fossil in front of the class."
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Mae."
"It was funny," she offered weakly.
"The whole class laughed."
"Yeah, well the school didn’t. And neither do I."
She looked away, biting her lip.
"You’re not gonna tell Mom and Dad, right?"
I sighed.
"Let’s get through this first. Then we’ll talk."
She nodded and started leading me inside.
"Thanks for coming."
I glanced at Mae.
"What’s your class teacher’s name?"
"Sera Valeska," she replied, voice low.
"You owe me," I said, following her in.
"And if we walk out of here without a suspension, I’m making you cook dinner for a week."
Mae grinned.
"Deal."
We stepped into the teacher’s lounge. At the front stood a woman who immediately looked up and smirked when she saw us.
"Well, well, if it isn’t our little star," the teacher said with a sharp edge.
"And she brought company, Miss Valeska."
Mae shifted nervously. Then I noticed the woman’s companion—a girl dressed in a crisp black shirt tucked neatly into light blue trousers, hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. The sharp lines of her face caught the dim light; every feature was perfectly symmetrical, flawless like a finely sculpted statue. She looked intimidatingly precise—almost unreal.
"Can we talk for a minute?" I asked.
"Sure," she said coolly.
She stood up and walked toward us with confident, deliberate steps.
"Follow me."
Mae and I exchanged a glance. I shot her a warning glare.
Together, we followed the teacher down the hall, tension buzzing between us.
She stopped in a quiet corner of the hallway and turned to face us. Her eyes locked onto Mae first, then shifted to me with a no-nonsense glare.
"And you are?" she asked coolly.
"I’m her brother. Zane Calix," I said, keeping my voice steady.
She glanced at Mae, then back to me.
"Your sister caused quite a stir today. What exactly do you want from me?"
I met her gaze firmly.
"Look, I’m not denying Mae’s fault. But teachers shouldn’t talk to students like they’re a disappointment or a burden. If someone keeps talking to you like that, sooner or later, you’ll blow up—because you can’t take it anymore."
Miss Valeska raised an eyebrow.
"What exactly did that teacher say to your sister?"
Mae swallowed, eyes downcast.
"She... called us idiots. Said we're useless."
I shook my head.
"It’s wrong to treat students that way. Discipline is one thing, but humiliation only breeds resentment."
Miss Valeska paused, thinking.
"I'll be filling a formal complaint against her. And don’t think I won’t take action on your sister’s behavior either."
Mae and I exchanged relieved looks.
"Thank you, Miss Valeska," I said.
She gave no smile or sign of warmth. Instead, she turned on her heel, clicking away on her heels as she left us standing there.
"Doesn't she know how to smile?" I asked Mae, watching Miss Valeska walk away.
Mae shrugged.
"Miss Valeska’s just like that. Tough, strict, all rules—no warmth. I’ve never seen her smile either."
"She looks… perfect. Almost unreal," I murmured more to myself than her.
Mae gave me a sharp look, narrowing her eyes.
"Don’t fall for her. She’s not what you think."
I laughed.
"Fall? Please. I just meant she seemed… a little too perfect."
Mae smirked.
"Yeah. Perfect, smart, scary when she wants to be. Trust me, you don’t want to be on her bad side."
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