After school, we did what we always did when we needed to decompress from the war zone that was Mrs. Fields' geometry class: we hit up Café Ripple. Kim and Jake were already arguing about whether cinnamon or hazelnut syrup was superior (hazelnut, obviously), and I let their chatter buzz around me while I sipped my overpriced matcha and watched the foam swirl like it held ancient secrets.
"I still think you're hiding something," Kim said suddenly, her straw making a dramatic slurp as she reached the bottom of her mango smoothie.
Jake leaned back in his chair like he was being interrogated by the FBI. "About what? The fact that you think cinnamon belongs in coffee? That's the real crime here."
I rolled my eyes. "Can we not start World War III over syrups?"
Jake pointed at me with his spoon. "You agree with me. Hazelnut supremacy."
Kim gave me a narrow-eyed glare. "Traitor."
I chuckled, waving the invisible white flag of neutrality. "I just came here for peace, not war and sticky caramel drizzle."
We stayed like that for a while—laughing, teasing, and pretending that the world wasn't as weird as it actually was. No Julian. No psychic headaches. No frozen time. Just us and the comfort of caffeine and sugar.
But like Cinderella's curfew, reality came crashing in around 6:45 when I realized I had approximately zero percent of my biology homework done and two suspicious text messages from my mom asking where I was and if I was still alive.
By the time I got home, the sky was painted in that cotton candy swirl of pink and orange, and I could already hear the chaos brewing inside the house from the driveway.
Our driveway was full: both Mom and Dad's cars were parked at crooked angles like they'd arrived in a rush—or maybe just didn't care anymore. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever madness awaited.
The second I opened the front door, it was like stepping into a circus.
"I said stop pushing my thoughts into my brain!" Charley shrieked from the living room.
"That's not even how that works, you moron!" Harley yelled back, waving her arms as sparks of green psychic energy flickered around her temples like she was trying to become the world's angriest lightbulb.
Meanwhile, Justin was plastered to the TV like it owed him money, laughing at some obnoxious YouTuber screaming about haunted elevators. His mouth hung open, chips in one hand, remote in the other. I didn't even want to look at the crumbs piling on the couch.
"Julia!" Mom's voice came from the kitchen, melodic and multitasking as usual. I poked my head in to see her at the stove, flipping something in a pan that smelled suspiciously like garlic and vengeance.
Dad was sitting on the counter, munching on raw carrots like a bunny with opinions. He gave me a tired smile. "You're late."
I grinned, leaning on the counter. "Had to prevent a caffeine-related tragedy. Kim and Jake were about to throw frappuccinos at each other."
"Sounds like a typical Wednesday," Mom said. "Wash your hands, dinner's in ten."
"Got it." I turned and walked past the TV, pausing just long enough to address the gremlin on the couch. "Justin, you're way too close to the screen. Move back before your eyeballs melt."
"I'm immune," he said without looking away.
"Sure you are," I muttered, heading upstairs.
My room was at the end of the hallway. I walked in muscle memory, still half-thinking about whether I had enough time to cram biology into my already fried brain before dinner. I reached for the doorknob, opened it—and almost had a heart attack.
Something—someone—was sitting cross-legged on my bed like he paid rent.
I froze in the doorway, blinking rapidly like my eyeballs were buffering.
"Okay. That's… not my pile of hoodies."
I flicked the lights on, and yup. It was him.
Julian.
The same Julian who apparently had zero regard for personal space, boundaries, or the law of physics.
He looked totally relaxed, hands resting on his knees like he'd been meditating or waiting for a pizza delivery.
"My parents didn't tell me I had a guest," I said as calmly as possible, gripping the doorknob like it was the only thing tethering me to sanity.
He shrugged, glancing at his watch. "Because they don't know you have a guest."
My jaw dropped a bit, then snapped shut. "You can't just come into my house, my room, uninvited, sitting on my bed, and start acting like you own the place."
"Technically," he said, glancing around like he was rating the decor, "I don't need an invitation. Not with the kind of energy signature you've got."
I blinked. "That's not a thing. That shouldn't be a thing."
He gave me a look that was somewhere between smug and infuriating. "You want answers, right? You've been wondering why you can't read my mind. Why I have no aura."
My heart lurched like a faulty elevator. "What? How'd you know—?"
"Because we're the same," he said simply.
I stood there, barely breathing. "We're the same? What do you know about me?"
He opened his mouth, about to speak—when Dad's voice echoed from the hallway like the universe had a sick sense of timing.
"Jules! Dinner's ready!"
Panic shot through me. "Coming!" I yelled back.
I turned back to Julian—only to find my bed was empty.
Empty.
Not a sound. Not a trace. Just my slightly rumpled blanket and a pillow with a suspicious dent.
I stood there for a solid five seconds, brain buffering like a lagging video.
"What the—" I whispered, completely stunned.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sleep? Who is she? I don't know her.
That night, I tossed and turned like a rotisserie chicken, Julian's words replaying on loop. "Because we're the same." What did that mean? Same how? Same powers? Same psychic-whatever DNA?
And how did he disappear like a puff of smoke in a cartoon?
By the time morning came, I looked like a raccoon on espresso. I practically launched out of the house with a granola bar in my mouth, still tugging on my hoodie. I didn't even notice Justin drawing a wormhole on the wall with a marker until Mom yelled something about "psychic graffiti" and "we are NOT raising a supervillain."
Kim and Jake were already at the school gates, and I stormed up to them like a girl on a mission.
"Okay. I have news," I blurted.
Jake raised a brow. "About your skincare routine? Because that's not looking great today."
Kim elbowed him. "Shut up and let her speak."
And I spoke. I told them what happened the evening before.
"He what?!" Kim nearly dropped her phone.
Jake whistled. "Okay, I don't want to say I told you so but—actually no, I do want to say I told you so. That guy is clearly not just some moody transfer student with elite skincare."
"He broke into your room," Kim added. "He could've been a murderer."
"He looks like a Gucci model, not a murderer," Jake said.
"Ted Bundy looked like a—" Kim started, but I waved them both off.
"The point is," I said, "he said we're the same. Then he vanished. I need to know what he meant."
The rest of the morning blurred past me. Teachers talked, notes were taken, Jake tried to draw a magic circle in his textbook like it was ancient witchcraft class. But I didn't care. My eyes were laser-focused, scanning every move Julian made.
Then finally, Lunch came.
I spotted Julian heading toward the courtyard with Alvin, laughing about something.
"You guys go have lunch, I'll meet up with you." I said to Kim and Jake still keeping my eyes on Julian so as not to miss him.
I stormed across the hall, grabbed Julian by the sleeve, and dragged him away like a girl possessed.
"Hey!" Alvin called after us. "Isn't this kidnapping?!"
"Maybe!" I yelled back.
We ended up at the back of the cafeteria where the noise was quieter and the sun made the dust float in weird golden streaks.
I turned to Julian, pointing at his face. "You can't just show up to my room unannounced and disappear like some sort of ghost. What are you? And what did you mean by we're the same?"
He tilted his head at me, smirking.
Then, without a word, he snapped his fingers.
Everything suddenly went silent. Like, dead silent.
The chatter from the cafeteria? Gone. The wind in the trees? Stilled. The faint horns of cars from the road outside the school, Gone. My heartbeat sounded like a drum in a padded room.
"What did you do?" I whispered.
He nodded toward my wrist.
I looked down. My watch had stopped ticking. Completely frozen.
No seconds. No motion. Nothing.
I looked up. The breeze had stopped. The trees weren't moving. A bird in the sky looked like it had been photoshopped and paused mid-flap.
Time was still.
Then it dawned on me.
He was a Time controller. I've heard my parents talk about them. According to my parents, they were god-tier psychics, heck! They weren't even psychics anymore because they were literally on another level. They were rare, extremely powerful and dangerous. You would find just one in ten thousand psychics.
I looked back at him, heart pounding so loud it could probably be heard in 4K.
"Time controller," I breathed. "You're a time controller."
He chuckled. "Nope. Time, space, and mind controller."
My knees wobbled like soggy spaghetti. "That's… that's impossible. That's not—That's legend stuff. That's god-tier."
He nodded, eyes gleaming with something ancient. "Exactly."
And then he smiled.
Like this was all just the beginning.