Chapter 45
Eli's little test had not been in vain.
From the questions he'd asked, he could tell—
the deputy's essence showed nothing but genuine confusion.
Upgrade.
Item: Beaker with Strange Substance
Level: 2
Attribute: Spirit
Mentality: 20/20
Synchronicity: 5.5%
Description: Let me open your mind.
He needed to refill his stock.
Eli didn't sleep that night.
He doubted he would for a while.
By morning, as the first light spilled over the horizon, he sat at his window, watching the sun rise.
Time to get ready.
He pressed his palms into his forehead, massaging the dull ache behind his eyes. The headache was inevitable… but at least he had one of the best ingredients for healing sleeping under his roof.
Speaking of which—where had his mother put that cactus?
It definitely wasn't in the garden.
Downstairs, he set the kettle to boil. Moments later, he sipped a strangely fragrant tea—the surface shimmering with a faint orange-yellow glow.
In a single breath, the ache vanished.
He exhaled slowly.
"That's… the stuff."
Mixing and matching potions was the best way to get the best of both worlds—and foxfire with ant tea made a very good mix.
Just then, the front door opened.
He didn't need to look. He heard every step perfectly.
His mother's voice drifted through the walls as she greeted the deputy.
"Morning," she said.
"Good morning," he replied back. "You look fresh — it's almost as if you didn't work all night."
"Aha," Miss Lorraine chuckled. "If only. My boss was giving me hell. Was everything good throughout the night?"
He replied that everything had been calm. Some other small talk. Nothing special.
In Eli's mind, the deputy was… unimpressive.
Only noticeable because he was a shifter and because he was always around. Still… Eli was starting to grow fond of him.
Though maybe he should be worried for the guy.
When his mother stepped into the room, the deputy's heart beat got strange.
Maybe I should tell him to get that checked out…
Before he decided, the conversation ended, and the deputy left.
A second later, his mother walked in smiling.
"Eli, go get ready," she said.
Ah.
Right.
School.
In the bathroom, Eli finally took the time to really look at himself.
His black hair was longer now—almost brushing his eyes. He didn't even need to stretch anymore to reach the sink. That was… new.
His eyes caught his attention next.
Light brown with a silvery background.
Or at least, that's how his mother described them.
In truth, they were just gray.
But she always insisted the brown was there, if you looked closely.
"It came from your grandmother," she would say.
Though she had more brown than gray."
He leaned in closer.
Maybe his mother was right.
Maybe.
And then his height.
Almost as tall as his mother already—and still growing.
He grinned.
Maybe when I'm taller than Mom… I can finally make another bomb.
He snorted at his own joke.
After dressing in the new clothes his mother had picked up that morning, he tugged irritably at the jeans.
They were stiff. Itchy.
And they clung to him like vines.
"Do I really have to wear these all day?" he grumbled.
He lasted three minutes.
Maybe less.
He ripped them off, dug through his old clothes, found a pair of shorts—tight, but much more comfortable—and put the jeans back on top.
Good enough.
Beacon Hills High was… ugly.
There were so many people.
Why?
And the cars.
Were those all teachers?
Why did they need that many teachers?
Red bricks. White walls.
Nothing special.
Okay… maybe he was overreacting.
It was a regular school.
But the people—
So many of them, packed together. Breathing. Talking. Watching.
And all of them were doing a horrible job pretending they weren't staring at him.
Or maybe I'm the weird one.
Maybe they're doing fine and I'm just… noticing too much.
If he wanted to, he could probably hear their thoughts.
He shivered at the idea — that would only make things worse.
He already felt crowded.
Thankfully, he was no longer stuck in the halls and was now sitting in a chair outside the principal's office.
The chair squeaked beneath him.
The office door clicked.
It opened.
The secretary smiled as the principal walked out, adjusting his tie. His gaze flicked from Eli to his mother.
"You're the lady who called about the late admissions? Miss Lorraine, was it?" he said, unsure.
His mother gave a polite nod.
"You can come inside."
The principal motioned them in with strained courtesy.
"So, Ms. Lorraine," he began, fingers tapping nervously on the desk. "About Eli's enrollment here…"
Eli slouched slightly.
Here we go…
"It's his… 'situation,'" the principal continued. "Mentally, he is still—what? Eleven? Twelve?"
He paused, eyeing Eli — who would certainly be taller than him in a few months.
He cleared his throat.
"While many of our students do not behave older than that… Eli's situation is different."
His mother's voice cut in sharply, before Eli could speak.
"Eli is more than capable. We already discussed this."
"Yes, but a few parents have brought concerns to my attention."
His gaze darted between them.
"Even if he is smart for a ten, eleven, or twelve-year-old… he is now expected to match sixteen-year-olds academically."
Wait.
Was he calling me stupid?
"There's no shame in holding him back a grade," he added. "No one could have prevented his… situation."
"As a matter of fact, I think it's an extreme lapse in your judgment," he continued .
Whether or not the principal knew he was walking on very fine threads, Eli's mother remained silent and her face stayed blank — but Eli could feel her anger radiating, as if he were standing next to the sun.The principal didn't seem to feel it. Or didn't care.Noticing her silence, he continued.
"If you insist he start here, he will need to pass competency exams."
He leaned back smugly.
"Unless he can tell me the Navier–Stokes equation right now."
Now Eli was confused.
This was a public school.
Tiny office.
Green-and-white tiles.
No books.
Not even a diploma on the wall.
His father wasn't just Mr. Neil — he was Dr. Neil O'Neil.
His mother worked in medicine — also a doctor.
He knew what qualifications looked like.
He raised his hand.
"Isn't this a public school?"
His mother blinked, surprised.
"I mean… it looks like one," he continued.
"Do you really have someone with a PhD or master's degree here?
And can they even explain the Navier–Stokes equation to a bunch of kids?"
Pure confusion.
No sarcasm, no disrespect.
Which somehow made it worse.
"And, Mr. Principal… did you waste all the school's money hiring those teachers?
Is that why this place looks so shabby?"
Blood rose in the man's face like mercury in a thermometer.
The door slammed behind them a heartbeat later.
Eli stared at his mother as she covered her mouth while shaking.
Did I say something wrong?
The secretary rushed over, glancing nervously toward the office.
"Okay, Eli," she said gently, handing him a schedule.
"You'll talk to your teachers about when they'll test your competency."
She smiled shakily.
"You'll do fine."
Eli opened his mouth to speak — but she kept going.
Adults always did.
She turned to Lorraine.
"Will you be following him to class?"
His mother froze.
She had lost four years.
Now she had to let him go again.
Just for a moment… Eli thought she might say yes.
But she shook her head.
She knelt and hugged him tightly.
"I'll come pick you up… or the deputy will."
Her voice cracked.
"Don't wander off. Don't go with anyone else. If anything happens, find Scott or Stiles — if you recognize them."
She pulled back, swallowing tears.
"Bye, sweetheart."
And then she walked too fast — like staying would hurt.
Eli watched her go.
Why do adults talk so much…
and then leave before you can say anything back?
Her shoulders sagged as she reached the exit.
Was she… sad? Why?
He shrugged.
I'll ask later. If it comes up.
He turned back — the secretary wiped her eyes discreetly.
Eli blinked.
Is there something in the air?