Felix stepped through the front doors of Cloverleaf High and took a slow look around.
The inside was even worse than the outside.
Fluorescent lights buzzed like dying flies. The lockers were dented and covered in stickers from four graduating classes ago. Someone had carved "SEND HELP" into the floor tiles near the vending machines.
"Guess all the budget goes to the football team," he muttered.
He made his way to the front office and approached the secretary's desk. The woman behind it was round and soft-looking, with neatly styled red hair and a large mole just above her lip. She wore a cardigan decorated with tiny apples and had a Diet Coke tucked next to her keyboard.
She looked up with the robotic cheerfulness of someone clinging to her last nerve.
"Can I help you?"
Felix flashed a polite smile. "Yeah, I just transferred. I need my class schedule?"
She clicked her mouse a few times. "Name and date of birth?"
"Felix… uh, Mulder. October 31st, 2009."
Her brow furrowed as she typed. Click. Clack. Pause.
You're not in the system," she said flatly.
His eye flickered red, faint and fast. He leaned in just a bit, voice dipping lower and smoother.
"You sure about that...? How about you fix that for me?"
Her expression slackened. The clack of her keyboard resumed but this time softer, her eyes dazed. She typed his name without blinking and printed out a schedule.
Felix plucked the paper from her hand with a wink.
"Thanks, Mrs. Robinson."
He tossed a lazy peace sign as he strolled out.
"Looks like we've got history first... Room 204 with Mr. Harrows."
Felix groaned.
"Great. The one subject I know jack about."
When he entered the classroom, it was chaos. Kids chattered over one another, headphones in, snacks out. Mr. Harrows stood at the front, trying and failing to restore order, holding a whiteboard marker like it was a weapon of last resort.
The second Felix stepped inside, the noise died. Every head turned.
Felix blinked at them.
"Uh. Hi. New here."
Mr. Harrows adjusted his glasses, blinking like he was just now processing the situation. "I wasn't aware I'd be getting a new student today," he said. Then, handing over the marker, "Go ahead and write your name."
Felix took the marker, uncapped it with a quick flick, and scrawled:
FELIX MULDER
The letters were sharp and deliberate, cutting across the whiteboard with a squeak of confidence.
Mr. Harrows gave a tired nod and gestured to the class. "Feel free to sit wherever there's space, Felix."
Felix scanned the room. It was big, full of bored, curious, and hostile faces.
He spotted an open seat next to a skinny kid hunched over a graph-paper notebook. Oversized glasses slid down his nose, and his mop of curly hair was one bad day away from becoming a bird's nest. His backpack was patched with anime pins and NASA logos. He looked like he knew how to jailbreak a school Chromebook in ten seconds or less.
Felix slid into the seat.
That's when it came.
"Looks like the new kid's getting cozy with Harry the Fairy," a voice snorted from across the room.
Felix turned. It was a jock, tall and square-jawed with a letterman jacket and all the personality of a microwaved sock.
Harry stared down at his notebook, shrinking into himself.
Felix smiled, slow and cold.
"And what would your name be?" he asked. "Just a guess, but… Rick the Prick? Dan the Dick?"
"Am I getting close? Let me know!"
Laughter broke out across the room.
Brad's face turned red, and he half-stood, fists curling; but Mr. Harrows cut in.
"Enough!" the teacher barked. "Brad, sit down or you're going to the principal's office. Again."
Brad sat, jaw clenched.
"I'll catch up with you later, loser," he muttered, venom under his breath.
Felix just leaned back in his seat, folding his arms behind his head like he was settling in for a nap.
Harry kept his eyes on the page, jaw tight behind the smudged graphite lines of a half-sketched diagram.
"You didn't have to do that," he mumbled.
Felix tilted his head. "Do what?"
"Stand up for me. I'm perfectly capable of doing that myself."
Felix smiled, lazy and unbothered. "I didn't do it for you. I just hate bullies with a passion."
He extended a hand. "Name's Felix."
Harry hesitated, then shook it awkwardly. "Harry. But… I guess you already knew that."
"Yeah, kinda hard to miss when the room explodes over your nickname."
Felix leaned over, peering into Harry's open pencil case.
"Mind if I borrow some supplies? Looks like mine mysteriously vanished during transfer."
Harry blinked. "Yeah, uh, here."
He passed him a mechanical pencil and a spare notebook.
Felix nodded his thanks and scribbled something on the first page just as Mr. Harrows tapped his whiteboard for attention.
"Alright, class," the teacher said, finally wrangling silence, "Today, we're continuing our unit on the Salem Witch Trials. Who can tell me what spectral evidence is and how it was used in the trials?"
Silence.
Then Mr. Harrows looked at Felix.
"Mr. Mulder? Care to take a shot?"
Felix looked up without missing a beat.
"Spectral evidence was testimony that the spirit or specter of the accused appeared to the witness in a dream or vision. It was notoriously unreliable, but it was still used to convict people of witchcraft."
The room fell silent.
Mr. Harrows raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed.
"Well done, Mr. Mulder."
"Nerd," Brad muttered under his breath, just loud enough for a few people to hear.
Mr. Harrows didn't miss a beat.
"Maybe you should take lessons from Mr. Mulder, Brad, and try paying attention for once."
Laughter rippled through the class.
Brad scowled, slinking lower in his seat.
Felix leaned over to Harry and whispered, "Man, it's only my first day and I'm already doing community service."
Harry smiled, just a little.
The rest of the lesson rolled on with only occasional interruptions—mostly groans when Mr. Harrows assigned reading from the textbook and something called a reflection journal, which earned a collective moan from the back row.
Felix jotted something in Harry's notebook with practiced ease. When Harry glanced over, he saw a small doodle of Brad as a caveman holding a football and clubbing his own foot.
Harry choked back a laugh.
"You draw?" Felix asked under his breath, noticing the intricate sketches in the margins of Harry's own pages. Dragons, starships, and a wolf-headed knight.
Harry shrugged. "Yeah. Kinda. Helps me focus."
Felix nodded. "Looks good. I used to draw too, back when I had… more free time."
Felix looked down at his page, fingers still tapping his pen. The bell rang like a slap to the skull.
A sea of students surged from their seats like a prison break, backpacks swinging and sneakers squeaking across tile. Brad threw a glare Felix's way as he passed but said nothing.
"Subtle," Felix muttered, slipping the borrowed supplies back into Harry's bag. "So, what's the lunch situation in this fine establishment?"
"Cafeteria," Harry said. "Unless you want to risk vending machine sushi or mysterious hallway burritos."
"Very tempting. But let's go traditional."
CAFETERIA
The room buzzed with noise. Students packed into long tables, trays clattering, laughter and arguments rising like static. The food smelled halfway between cheese and despair. Most of the tables were claimed: jocks, band kids, theater crew, a table of goths who looked like they bit people recreationally.
Felix and Harry moved through the line. He eyed the grayish burger on his tray.
"This thing has to be a crime scene."
"If you eat it too fast, it counts as self-harm," Harry replied.
Felix smirked. "You're funnier than you look."
They found an empty table near the back. Harry unwrapped a peanut butter sandwich with the caution of a man defusing a bomb.
"So, where'd you transfer from?" he asked.
Felix paused.
"Everywhere."
Harry blinked. "That's... not vague at all."
Felix popped a fry in his mouth and grinned. "Well, you wouldn't believe me anyway."
Before Harry could press, a tray slammed onto their table.
It was Brad.
Of course.
He wasn't alone either. Two other guys flanked him, one with a buzzcut, the other built like a vending machine on steroids.
"Hey, Mulder," Brad said, all smiles. "Ready for your welcome party?"
Brad dropped his tray on the table. His two goons flanked him, arms crossed, puffed up like dollar-store bodyguards.
Felix didn't look up from his soggy fries.
"Wow," he said. "Didn't realize we were hosting a testosterone convention. Do I need to pay a fee?"
Brad sneered. "I told you I'd catch up with you, freak."
Felix popped a fry in his mouth, chewed slowly, and nodded.
"And look at you. A man of your word. I'd clap, but I'm holding onto the last fry like it's my will to live."
Harry shrank in his seat, eyes nervously darting between them.
Buzzcut cracked his knuckles. Vending Machine flexed like he thought it made him scarier.
Brad leaned in. "Here's how this works, new kid. You stay in your lane, keep your head down, and maybe—maybe—we don't rearrange your face with our fists."
Felix raised an eyebrow. "Brad, you're wearing a letterman jacket in May. You peaked in junior year and it's not even over. You think I'm scared of a dude whose personality is one protein shake away from domestic violence?"
A few students at nearby tables turned to look, sensing blood in the water.
Brad's face flushed red. His hand twitched aggressively.
"You got a death wish, Mulder?"
Felix finally sat up, hazel eyes gleaming. He smiled. "Please. Hit me. I'd love the excuse."
Buzzcut stepped forward, but Mr. Harrows' voice suddenly barked from behind them.
"Bradley! Do we need another chat with Principal Popovich? Or maybe Coach should know his star quarterback is trying to punch a new transfer student on day one?"
Brad hesitated. For once, his brain cells worked together and passed a message to his brain to retreat.
He scowled. "This isn't over, freak."
"Oh good," Felix said. "I was worried this would be a one-time thing."
The jocks retreated, Brad shoving his tray onto a nearby table as they walked.
Felix sat back down, brushing nonexistent dirt off his hoodie.
Harry blinked. "That was… something."
Felix stabbed his burger with his fork. "Yeah, I have that effect on people."
Harry took a bite of his sandwich, then glanced across the cafeteria.
"Y'know... you're the first person to stand up to Brad."
Felix snorted. "Please. I've dealt with way worse than a stereotypical jock in a small town with questionable haircut choices."
He popped another fry in his mouth, then paused mid-chew. His eyes flicked across the room.
"Hey. Who's that?"
Across the cafeteria, seated alone at a corner table, was a girl with shoulder-length black hair tucked behind one ear. Pale, quiet, unreadable. She picked at her food like she hoped it would vanish on its own. Her eyes didn't wander. She didn't laugh. She didn't flinch. Everyone else might as well not have existed.
"She didn't even look over when Brad was doing his whole alpha gorilla thing."
Harry followed his gaze and instantly stiffened.
"That's Laura Cruz," he said, lowering his voice. "She mostly keeps to herself. Especially after... y'know."
Felix turned to him, deadpan. "I don't know, Harry. That's why I asked. Don't go all 'ominous pause' on me."
Harry looked awkward. "Right, sorry. I figured you'd have heard by now, but I forgot you're a transfer."
He sighed, then leaned in.
"Her older sister, Ana? She was one of the three girls who went missing. Ana was popular. Like, it girl popular. Cheer squad, student council, top of the social food chain. The other two missing girls were her best friends. They vanished together."
Felix went quiet.
Felix didn't speak. He just stood, grabbed his tray, and started walking like his decision had already been made ten seconds ago.
"Wait, what are you doing?"
"Making friends," Felix said, already walking.
"With her?!"
Harry scrambled to follow as Felix walked right up to Laura's table and sat down across from her.
She didn't look up. Not right away. But after a second, her eyes slowly lifted.
There it was—that hollow look. That soul-deep exhaustion. Felix had seen it before. In mirrors. In morgues. In mothers clinging to photos and hope that had long since expired.
"Hey," he said, gently. "I'm new here. Transfer student. Name's Felix."
She blinked. "Laura."
"Nice to meet you, Laura."
Silence.
Harry hovered behind Felix like he was watching someone defuse a bomb with a fork.
Felix leaned forward slightly, arms folded on the table. His voice dropped low, calm, and inviting.
"I heard about your sister."
Laura flinched, just barely. Her eyes tightened, jaw locking for half a second. She didn't speak.
"I know what it's like," he continued. "Not knowing. Waiting for someone to come home, even after the world's already decided they're gone."
Still nothing.
So he added, softer:
"I'm not asking you to reopen wounds. I'm here because maybe... something didn't sit right. Maybe there's a detail you couldn't tell the cops because they'd roll their eyes or mark you down as 'traumatized and unreliable'.'"
Laura glanced up, slow and guarded. Her eyes were sharp, but dulled at the edges, like the light had gone out weeks ago.
"Why do you care?" she asked finally.
Felix smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Call it a bad habit. I see a storm brewing, and I get curious."
Laura's jaw tightened.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Pretend like you care. You don't know me. You don't know Ana. You just want a headline or a freak story to pass around."
Felix leaned in slightly. His voice dropped.
"I'm not here for gossip, Laura. I'm here because I think you're right."
A long silence passed between them. The cafeteria buzzed on, a world away from the quiet stillness at their table.
Finally, Laura spoke.
"I already told the cops everything."
"Then tell me everything."
She hesitated before sighing.
"Ana said someone was following her. Her and her friends. It started a few weeks before they vanished. At first, she laughed about it. Thought it was some loser from school."
Felix said nothing. Just let her speak.
"But it didn't stop. She kept saying she felt watched. That the woods felt different. Wrong. They always went out to Old Grove, near the reservoir. That was their spot to smoke weed."
Her eyes sharpened, colder now.
"But the cops found her jacket and some of her stuff in Northwood. Opposite end of town. Said maybe she wandered. Got confused. That's bullshit."
"How do you know?" Felix asked, softly.
"Because Ana hated Northwood. Said it gave her bad vibes. She never went there. Ever."
Felix nodded. Thought for a moment.
"So someone planted her and her friends stuff there to throw the cops off."
"That's what I think."
"And nobody listened?"
Laura shook her head.
"They stopped listening after the first week."
Felix gave her a long look, then stood.
"Thanks, Laura. Really."
He turned to leave but she called after him, voice quieter.
"Again, why do you even care?"
He paused, then looked back over his shoulder.
"Because if I don't, who will?"
He flashed a faint grin and thumbs up.
"Besides. I suck at algebra. Gotta be good at something."