By the time Mateo hit the tiles, the sound was louder than the bell.
One second he was standing in the middle of room 214 at Bookside High, pencil hovering over his quiz. The next, his face went white, the paper slipped from his fingers, and his knees buckled. His head clipped the edge of his desk on the way down.
The thud echoed under the humming fluorescent lights. For a heartbeat, nobody moved.
“Mateo?” Callie whispered.
He didn’t answer. His body jerked once, like a short circuit, then went frighteningly still.
“Mateo!” she cried, knocking her chair back so fast it toppled. She dropped to her knees beside him. His skin felt hot and clammy at the same time. His lips were the wrong color.
“Somebody get the nurse!” Mr. Golding shouted, his chair scraping. “Now!”
Jackie bolted for the door, sneakers squealing on the waxed California linoleum. A few kids leaned in, morbid curiosity already pulling out phones. Others sat frozen, knuckles white on their pencils.
Ernie, who usually kept his head down behind a curtain of curls and AP Biology flashcards, slid his backpack under Mateo’s neck, gently tilting his head.
“He was fine a minute ago,” Callie kept saying. “He was fine…”
His eyes fluttered half-open, unfocused. “Water,” he rasped. “I’m… thirsty…”
“Don’t give him anything yet,” Mr. Golding said, voice tight. “Stay with us, Mateo. You’re okay. You’re okay.”
The nurse came rushing in with a wheelchair and a tablet. Behind her, the hallway filled with faces. Two more students were being guided toward the office, one leaning heavily on the other, both pale.
“I’ve never seen this many students this sick at once,” the nurse murmured as she checked Mateo’s pulse. “This is the fourth today…”
“Ambulance is on the way,” Mr. Golding said, already on the phone.
The intercom beeped overhead. “Teachers, please keep students in classrooms. Do not release anyone into the halls at this time.”
Someone whispered, “Yo, is this that new virus on the news?” Someone else whispered back, “At least we don’t have to finish the quiz.”
Callie looked up sharply. “What if he’s not okay?” she snapped.
“He will be,” Jackie said, more out of habit than conviction. “Come on. Give them space.”
The paramedics lifted Mateo onto a stretcher, the neon straps bright against his gray hoodie. As they wheeled him out of room 214 and down the crowded corridor of the Southern California public high school, Callie caught a glimpse of his face.
He looked scared.
And then he was gone.
Principal Richard Myers watched the ambulance lights flicker across the glass of his office window and pressed his lips into a tight line.
Across from him, Vice Principal Mary Wall clutched a clipboard like a shield. “This is not normal,” she said. “We’ve had so many absences these past few weeks, and now we have four students being hospitalized in one day. Something is wrong.”
“Must be a bad flu season,” Myers said, smoothing down his tie. It was a deep navy that matched the Bookside High banner on the wall. “You heard the news. They’re talking about some virus going around the county.”
“But their symptoms don’t match,” Mary pushed. “No cough. No sore throat. No fever, at least not at first. They’re collapsing in hallways, complaining about headaches and strange tastes in their mouths. And—”
“And parents are panicking,” Myers cut in. “Which is why we don’t escalate. You know our situation, Mary. It’s not just about germs. The district’s already hovering with budget cuts. If this blows up into a big story, enrollment drops. Enrollment drops, funding drops. We cannot afford that.”
She frowned. “What do I tell the parents? We’ve had at least twenty calls just today.”
“You reassure them we’re handling things,” he said smoothly. “Tell them things are improving.”
“But they aren’t,” she said. “It’s getting worse by the day.”
Myers gave her a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Smooth it over, Mary. Show me you can handle it.”
She opened her mouth to argue again.
A shadow crossed the frosted glass of the office door. A man lingered there for half a second, then moved out of frame.
“Do you know that man?” Mary asked.
Myers glanced over, just a little too fast. “No idea,” he said. “Probably a parent.”
He stood, reaching for his blazer. As he slid it on, the cuff rode up, revealing a watch—sleek, silver, and expensive, the kind you didn’t buy on a public school salary.
“Nice watch,” Mary said before she could stop herself. “Where’d you get it?”
“This?” He tugged the cuff down. “Gift.”
He grabbed his keys. “I’m running late for a meeting,” he said. “You’ve got this, Mary.”
And then he was gone too.
At lunch, the Bookside cafeteria smelled like pizza, disinfectant, and teenage stress. The usual.
“Out of my way, nerd,” Kevin grunted, shoving Ernie’s tray aside with an oversized bicep as they converged near the drink station.
“You could say ‘excuse me,’” Ernie muttered, adjusting his glasses.
“Yeah, no, I’m not excusing myself to a nerd,” Kevin said. “I need protein to maintain these guns. Not that you’d know anything about that. I’ve seen twigs bigger than you.”
He grabbed the last chocolate milk and sauntered off, laughing with his friends.
“You okay?” Jackie asked Ernie, sliding up beside him with a carton of orange juice.
“I’m fine,” he said, ears pink. “Just… tired of being pushed around.”
“Get in line,” Jackie said. “Half the school’s either sick, ghosting, or getting bullied, and all Myers cares about is test scores.”
As if on cue, a table of empty seats caught Callie’s eye as she walked in with her tray. Ten students missing. Ten.
She sat down with Jackie and Ernie, her appetite gone.
“Any updates?” Jackie asked.
Callie shook her head. “They just say he’s ‘under observation.’ That’s what they said about the others too,” she added, voice dropping. “Seb from math? Lexi from choir? They’re all in the same wing at County General. They look worse every time.”
“I’m sure he’ll be okay,” Ernie said, but he didn’t sound sure.
“Turn it up,” someone at the next table said. “It’s about the virus.”
The cafeteria TV mounted in the corner flickered to life with the local Los Angeles news. A familiar anchor stared out, serious and polished.
“Breaking news tonight,” she said. “A mysterious illness has spread throughout the county. Doctors are suspecting a virus, or perhaps a new outbreak of an existing strain. Symptoms include fever, cough, and sore throat. Health officials recommend staying hydrated, washing hands, and staying home if you feel unwell.”
“Sore throat, cough,” Jackie said. “None of that is what’s happening at Bookside.”
“No,” Callie said slowly. “It isn’t.”
The nurse’s office door opened at the far end of the cafeteria. Another student walked out, pale, clutching a water bottle.
The cap glinted under the fluorescent lights.
That evening, County General Hospital hummed with quiet chaos—monitors beeping, carts rattling, shoes squeaking on polished floors. The pediatric wing was busier than usual.
“How’s my daughter?” a tired mother demanded at the nurse’s station.
“We need answers,” another parent said. “What is happening at that school?”
“We’re doing the best we can,” the nurse said, her smile strained. “The doctors are still running tests. You can visit him for a few minutes.”
Callie hovered in the doorway of Mateo’s room, fingers twisted in the strap of her backpack.
“Hey,” she said softly as she stepped inside.
He looked small against the hospital pillows, skin pale against the blue blanket. An IV snaked into his arm. There were faint red marks around his eyes, like he’d been rubbing them too hard.
“You scared us,” Jackie said from behind Callie, trying for teasing and landing somewhere near exhausted. “You owe me an explanation for making me fail my quiz by distraction.”
Mateo tried to smile; it looked more like a twitch. “No need to worry,” he whispered. “Just wanted to get out of math.”
Ernie rolled his eyes. “Classic.”
A nurse came in with a clear plastic cup. “You have visitors,” she said kindly. “Lucky guy. How are you feeling?”
“Thirsty,” he said immediately. “Can I have some water?”
“Sure.” She picked up the large clear bottle sitting on his tray. It had BOOKSIDE HIGH printed in blue along the side. “Your friends brought this for you. Nice of them.”
She poured some into the cup and handed it to him.
He took a sip. His throat bobbed.
His eyes went wide.
The cup slipped from his fingers, water splashing across the sheet.
“Hey,” Callie said. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer.
His entire body jolted, then went slack.
“Call a doctor!” Jackie screamed. “Now!”
The nurse slammed a red button on the wall. “Everyone out,” she ordered. “Now!”
Callie stumbled into the hallway with Jackie and Ernie, her heart pounding.
Something was very, very wrong.
And if the adults wouldn’t figure it out, she would.
The next morning, over the buzz of morning announcements about spirit week and standardized test prep, Vice Principal Wall stepped into Principal Myers’s office again.
“We can’t keep pretending this is just a bad cold,” she said. “Whatever’s happening to our students is not the same illness on the news. We need to call the health department. We should be testing for carbon monoxide, mold, anything.”
“It’s been taken care of,” Myers said, not looking up from his laptop.
“How?” she demanded. “By telling parents to have their kids wash their hands?”
“Leave it alone, Mary,” he said, his voice dropping. “I won’t tell you again.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then walked out with her jaw clenched.
Down the hall in room 214, Mr. Golding finished scribbling “Lab Safety” on the board and turned to find three sets of eyes already on him.
Jackie shut the door behind her. “We need a plan,” she said. “Whatever’s happening, the school is not handling it.”
“You want to… go rogue?” Ernie asked, half terrified, half intrigued.
“I want to not watch another friend pass out on a tile floor,” Callie said. “Is that so much to ask?”
“Kids,” Mr. Golding said, lowering his voice. “You need to get to class. The bell—”
“What do you think is going on?” Callie interrupted. “Honestly, Mr. G.”
He hesitated, weighing his words. “It could be environmental,” he said. “Something in the building. But it’s hard to say without data.”
“Then let’s get data,” Callie said. “We’re in your AP Bio class. We know how to culture bacteria, test pH, run basic assays. Let us investigate. Make it… extra credit.”
“The principal made it very clear we’re not to run extracurricular investigations,” he said. “Or use school materials for anything outside curriculum.”
Jackie’s eyes gleamed. “So don’t give us permission,” she said. “Just… leave the supplies over there. And if someone were to use sterile swabs to test doorknobs, locker handles, fountains, sinks…”
“And maybe test water from different sources around the school for contaminants,” Ernie added, warming up. “Analyze cafeteria food for microbes. Use, say, the lab notes on page forty-nine of the environmental unit.”
Mr. Golding turned slowly toward the supply cabinet where sterile swabs, petri dishes, pH strips, and water testing kits waited.
He sighed. “If I were to investigate,” he said carefully, “I might start by swabbing high-traffic surfaces and culturing them. And I might also test water samples from fountains, classroom sinks, and bathroom faucets. But I am not saying you should.”
Jackie grinned. “Got it.”
“And if I needed caffeine so badly that I had to leave the room for ten minutes,” he added. “I would probably go to the teacher’s lounge right about… now.”
He picked up his coffee mug and walked out.
“He might be my new favorite person,” Jackie said.
“Okay,” Callie said, snapping into focus. “We split up. Door knobs, locker handles, railings. Anything everyone touches. We’ll label each swab with location and time. Then we’ll take water samples—cafeteria, gym fountains, bathroom taps. And food too, just in case. Meat goes bad fast.”
“In the lab,” Ernie said, “we’ll incubate the cultures and run standard bacterial counts. For water, we can test for pH, turbidity, maybe even heavy metals with the basic strips. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.”
“And I’ll keep watch,” Jackie said, peeking into the hallway. “Make sure Darth Myers doesn’t stroll in with his ‘gifted’ watch.”
They worked fast.
Cotton swabs streaked silently across silver doorknobs and chipped locker handles. Clear vials filled with water—cool from fountains, lukewarm from bathroom taps, faintly metallic from the janitor’s closet sink. Cafeteria chili, mystery meat, and pasta sauce went into tiny plastic bags.
By the time the final bell rang, dozens of petri dishes sat stacked on the lab table like a tiny city of invisible danger, each one labeled with names and numbers.
“School’s over,” Mr. Golding said when he came back. “Principal Myers likes to stay late. Be careful.”
“We’ll cover the plates and set the incubator to thirty-seven Celsius,” Ernie said, adjusting the dial with reverence. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll see what grows.”
“And we’ll quietly test the water for metals and pH,” Callie added. “Then we’ll know if we’re chasing the right monster.”
Jackie peeked out into the hallway again. “Speaking of monsters…”
Principal Myers appeared in the doorway a second later, his smile paper-thin.
“My little scientists,” he said. “Burning the midnight oil?”
“Just working on some extra credit assignments,” Mr. Golding said quickly. “Reviewing lab techniques for the AP exam.”
“I see,” Myers said. His eyes flicked to the incubator, then slid away. “Well. Have a pleasant evening.”
He left.
Nobody exhaled until the click of his office door carried down the hall.
“Okay,” Jackie whispered. “Operation Find Out What’s Poisoning Us is live.”
They had no idea how hard the man in the navy tie would work that night to bury the truth.
Jeff, the night janitor, had worked at Bookside High longer than most teachers. He knew every squeaky tile, every kid who stayed late for clubs, every teacher who snuck back to print one more worksheet.
So when his phone buzzed with a text from Principal Myers at 8:43 p.m., he frowned.
Need you to clear out everything in the Bio lab fridge and incubator tonight. Dispose of all samples. Protocol. –RM.
He didn’t understand it. But he understood orders.
The next morning, when Callie and Ernie rushed into the lab early, hair still damp from hurried showers, the incubator was empty.
Every plate. Every labeled sample. Gone.
The trash can had fresh liners. The biohazard bin was freshly wiped.
“No,” Ernie said, voice cracking. “No, no, no…”
“Where did they all go?” Callie whispered. “We had everything…”
“You kids are here awfully early,” Jeff said from the doorway, pushing his mop. “Everything okay?”
“Did you… see anyone in here last night?” Callie asked.
“Yeah,” Jeff said slowly. “I cleared all the old plates out. Principal’s request.”
Callie felt like the floor tilted beneath her.
“They’re trying to erase it,” Jackie said from behind them, looking even more rumpled than usual. “He knows.”
Before they could respond, a knock sounded on the lab door.
“Mr. Golding,” Vice Principal Wall said, stepping inside. “I wanted to introduce you to someone. This is Dr. Bender, from the county hospital. He’s a virus specialist.”
The man with the white coat and polished shoes smiled too broadly. “We ran a full panel on the students,” he said. “I highly doubt this is viral.”
“See?” Myers said from the doorway, his watch catching the light. “What did I tell you? No virus.”
“Then what is it?” Callie snapped before she could stop herself.
Dr. Bender blinked. “We’re still looking into it,” he said smoothly. “In the meantime, drink fluids. Wash your hands.”
He left with Myers, shoes clicking down the hall.
“They know something,” Jackie muttered. “And they’re hiding it.”
“I think it’s the water,” Callie said. “Think about it. Everyone who got sick drinks the school water all day. Mateo, Kevin, the others. When Mateo drank that water in the hospital…” She swallowed. “It got worse, fast.”
“Kevin packs his lunch,” Ernie added. “Doesn’t eat cafeteria food. But I see him filling that giant bottle at the fountain every morning.”
“We need to retest the water,” Callie said. “Without Myers being able to destroy anything. We do it offsite.”
“How?” Ernie asked. “There are cameras everywhere. And we’re minors. And this is probably illegal…”
“All those conspiracy docs I watch?” Jackie said, eyes lighting up. “This is my moment.”
Wednesday night, Bookside High glowed like a spaceship under the suburban California sky, the single-story building washed in orange parking lot light. The manufacturing plant across the street loomed in the dark, its smokestacks blinking red, the low hum of machinery a constant backdrop.
Jackie knelt by the security box near the back door, her all-black outfit absorbing the light. “Janitor leaves it unlocked on Wednesday nights,” she whispered. “He has to get in and out for late-night mopping. I’ve timed it.”
“How many times have you timed it?” Ernie asked.
“Do you really want to know?” she said.
The door clicked open.
They slipped inside, hearts pounding, the smell of industrial cleaner filling their noses. In the distance, a pop song played faintly from someone’s phone—the janitor, humming along as he mopped the front hall.
Jackie pulled a small device from her backpack—wires, a battery, and an antenna. “Walkie-talkie?” Callie asked.
“Signal jammer,” Jackie said proudly. “It’ll scramble the security feed long enough for us to get what we need. Or it’ll do nothing, and we’ll all be grounded until college. Fifty-fifty.”
She clicked it on. Somewhere overhead, the red light on a camera blinked and went dark.
“Okay, go,” Jackie said. “Ernie, Callie—you get the water. I’ll distract Jeff if he wanders back here.”
They moved.
This time, they took more samples. From the shiny new fountain near the gym. From the rust-stained faucet in the girl’s locker room. From the science lab sink that had never quite stopped dripping. From the cafeteria kitchen, where stainless steel counters gleamed and the massive industrial dishwasher hissed.
They filled labeled vials and tucked them into an insulated lunchbox. No incubators this time. No leaving anything in the school.
In the front hall, Jackie intercepted Jeff with her most innocent smile. “Mr. Jeff?” she said. “I, um, left my algebra book in the math room. Can you let me in? I have a huge test tomorrow.”
She made her eyes big. He chuckled and fished for his keys.
“Sure, kiddo,” he said. “But don’t tell anyone I’m enabling extra studying.”
By the time he realized she’d taken a little too long packing up her “forgotten” backpack, Callie and Ernie were slipping back out the rear door, samples secure.
“This time I’m taking everything home,” Ernie said once they were outside, breath fogging in the cool night air. “No way Myers gets his hands on this.”
Behind them, the metal plant rumbled, its lights glaring like accusing eyes.
Ernie’s kitchen turned into a makeshift lab overnight.
His parents, both nurses at the local clinic, raised eyebrows but didn’t ask too many questions. They were used to him turning the dining table into a science fair project. They trusted him.
Callie hovered at his elbow as he poured water into sterile cups, dipped in strips, and waited for the results to bloom.
“pH between seven and eight,” he muttered. “Looks normal. Turbidity’s okay too…”
“What about metals?” Callie asked.
He set up the heavy metal test kit, hands shaking slightly. “These strips change color when they detect certain levels of lead, mercury, cadmium, things like that,” he said. “Our kit isn’t super precise, but it’ll tell us if something’s way off.”
They dipped the strip into the vial marked GYM FOUNTAIN.
The color shifted slowly from pale yellow to a muddy, angry brown.
“Oh no,” Callie whispered.
They tested the one labeled CAFETERIA SINK. Same reaction. GIRLS’ LOCKER ROOM FAUCET. Same. SCIENCE LAB TAP. Same.
The bottle of bottled water from Callie’s house came back clean.
“The school water is contaminated,” Ernie said, throat dry. “All of it. Clear indicators of heavy metals.”
“Could it be from the plant?” Callie asked, glancing out the window where, in the distance, the smokestacks glowed faintly against the night. The plant was less than a mile from Bookside. It had been there for years, pumping out metal parts and jobs and, apparently, something else.
“It fits,” Ernie said. “They manufacture metal parts. If their waste disposal isn’t properly regulated, runoff could be seeping into the groundwater. Especially if the pipes in our old school building are corroded.”
“And if those metals are in our drinking water…” Callie said, thinking of Mateo’s pale face. Kevin collapsing. Her own daily routine—math, lunch, fountain, science, fountain. “…that would explain almost everything.”
“We need proof,” Jackie said, sliding her laptop around so they could see the screen. “And I think I just found it.”
A still image glowed on the screen—a grainy freeze-frame from a parking lot camera across the street from the metal plant. A sleek dark Porsche gleamed under the streetlights. Beside it, two men shook hands.
One was wearing a suit with the sharp, almost plastic lines of big-city success.
The other was wearing a Bookside High tie.
“Sam Lowry,” Jackie said, pointing at the first man. “Owner of Lowry Metals Manufacturing. I cross-referenced his face with a couple of local business profiles. That’s him.”
“And the other…” Callie said, stomach twisting. “…is Myers.”
She clicked to the next image. A divided second later in the video, Myers extended his hand again. Lowry slipped something into it. It flashed silver just long enough to catch the light.
“That watch,” Callie said. “Gift, huh?”
“And probably cash to go with it,” Jackie said. “Enough to look the other way while a whole school gets poisoned.”
“Which is a crime,” Ernie said. “A serious one.”
“And Dr. Bender?” Callie asked. “He kept pushing the virus story. Said it wasn’t viral, but also said everything was fine. Either he’s incompetent, or…”
“Or somebody paid him too,” Jackie said. “This whole town is in that plant’s pocket.”
“We take this to Vice Principal Wall,” Callie said, heart pounding. “She believes in doing the right thing. She tried to push Myers already. If we give her proof, she can go above him.”
“And probably get fired,” Ernie said.
“She’ll do it anyway,” Callie said. “I can tell.”
“Let me get this straight,” Mary Wall said the next morning, sitting at a small round table in an empty conference room. “You three broke about a dozen school policies, potentially trespassed, and definitely conducted unsanctioned scientific testing…”
“Yes,” Callie said, bracing herself. “And we’re sorry. But—”
“But you also found evidence that our students have been drinking contaminated water,” Mary finished, tapping the printed report Ernie had put together. “Evidence that points to heavy metal poisoning from a plant that’s been here longer than some of our staff. And that our principal took money to keep it quiet.”
Jackie slid the printed parking lot photo across the table. The handshake. The watch.
“And Mr. Golding examined the samples,” Ernie added. “He can vouch for our methodology. At least as much as you need for probable cause.”
“I wasn’t there for the testing,” Mr. Golding said from the corner, hands folded. “But I’ve reviewed their work. It holds up. The symptoms, the timeline… it all fits heavy metal exposure.”
Mary stared down at the papers for a long moment. Her jaw tightened.
“I can’t believe this,” she said softly. “How could he…”
Sam Lowry’s smug face stared up at her from the printout. Myers’s outstretched hand looked greedy in frozen grayscale.
She thought of his Porsche. Of the watch. Of the way he’d brushed off her concerns. Of her own mother’s voice from years ago, telling her, “We don’t look away when kids are in danger. Not in this country.”
Mary stood.
“I have somewhere I need to be,” she said. “Thank you. All of you.”
“Does this mean Mateo’s going to be okay?” Callie asked.
“If we move fast,” Mary said. “There’s a good chance. Heavy metal poisoning can be treated once identified. That plant, on the other hand…”
She didn’t finish the sentence.
She didn’t have to.
The Bookside High front lawn had never seen so many official vehicles.
White vans from the county water department parked alongside patrol cars, their blue lights spinning lazily in the California sun. A news van from a local station rolled up, camera crew climbing out. A crowd of students formed behind the rope line, phones already out, ready to stream whatever happened next.
“Hey,” Kevin whispered to Ernie, leaning on crutches—his recovery still in progress. “What’s going on? Did someone finally catch the ghost of the old chem teacher?”
“Better,” Ernie said. “They’re catching something real.”
Mary stood on the front steps with the water department supervisor, a stern-looking woman in a navy polo. Behind them, two officers waited.
Myers strode out of the building, expression pinched. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “You can’t just barge into my school.”
“I called them,” Mary said, her voice steady. “We’re testing the water.”
“I told you to leave it alone,” he snapped. “You went over my head.”
“I went around your pocket,” she said. “Bookside’s own biology students presented me with some very interesting information. Including a photo of you accepting money from Sam Lowry, the metal manufacturing CEO, in the plant parking lot.”
Myers’s face went slack, then hardened. “You’re going to trust some kids over me?” he scoffed. “This is ridiculous. They probably faked those tests for attention.”
“We also tested your office sink this morning,” the water supervisor said, stepping forward with a professional calm that made her words hit harder. “The sample lit up like a Christmas tree with heavy metals. Same signature as the samples from the fountains, bathrooms, and cafeteria. And the same metals used at Lowry Metals.”
Myers opened his mouth and closed it again.
“You rat,” he hissed toward the crowd when he spotted Callie and her friends. “You are in so much trouble—”
“Principal Myers,” one of the officers said, stepping up. “You’re under arrest on suspicion of accepting bribes, willful neglect, and endangering minors.”
Cold metal circled his wrists, clicking shut with finality.
“You can’t do this,” he spluttered as they led him toward the squad car. “I want a lawyer! This is a misunderstanding! You’re ruining my life—”
Mary watched him go, her shoulders relaxing for the first time in weeks.
“Sometimes,” Jackie murmured to Ernie, “the man actually loses.”
News cameras rolled. Kids cheered. Some just stood and stared, realizing that the adults in charge of their safety had not all been on the same side.
In the days that followed, the story spread across the county. A corrupt principal taking bribes to hide water contamination in a struggling American high school. A metal plant ignoring environmental regulations. A doctor willing to look away.
But it also told another story.
Of three students who refused to accept “Wash your hands” as an answer while their friends collapsed.
Of a teacher who trusted his kids.
Of a vice principal who remembered why she’d gotten into education in the first place.
Weeks later, the air at Bookside High felt lighter.
Literally.
New filtration systems gleamed on the walls, modern machines humming quietly as they purified every drop of water flowing into fountains and sinks. The old pipes were being replaced over spring break. Cases of bottled water lined the cafeteria, free for students and staff until the upgrades were complete.
In the hospital, charts changed. Once the doctors understood it was heavy metal poisoning, treatment shifted. Chelation therapy began. The kids started to improve.
Mateo’s color came back slowly, his jokes following a few days behind.
Kevin stopped collapsing. He stopped shoving people quite so hard too.
In the Bookside gym, the entire student body gathered for an assembly. Folding chairs squeaked. Banners fluttered. The American flag in the corner hung just a little straighter.
“I am so glad to see everyone back in school,” Mary—now Principal Wall—said from the stage, microphone in hand. The title still felt new on her tongue, but it fit. “I hope we’ve all learned the importance of access to clean water.”
She looked out over the sea of faces—brown, black, white, everything in between—the faces of kids who should be worrying about exams and crushes, not contaminants.
“We were lucky we caught it in time here at Bookside,” she continued. “But for many people around the world, and even here in the United States, safe, clean drinking water isn’t something they can take for granted.”
She nodded toward the water department supervisor, standing off to the side. “We are working closely with the county and the water company to ensure our systems are safe. New filters have been installed, and old pipes are being replaced. But for now, remember: bottled water only. No refilling personal bottles from fountains or sinks yet.”
A ripple of laughter went through the crowd. Every student held some kind of plastic bottle in their hands, logos from discount stores and sports brands catching the light.
“And,” Mary said, smiling now, “I also want to recognize some very special students.”
She turned to the side where Callie, Jackie, and Ernie stood nervously with Mr. Golding.
“These three,” she said, “and their teacher used their scientific skills, their courage, and frankly, their refusal to listen to instructions about going home on time…” A wave of laughter broke out. “…to uncover the truth about our water. They brought their findings to me when it would have been easier to stay silent. Because of them, we were able to get help, treat our sick students, and hold people accountable.”
She held up three envelopes, each embossed with the Bookside County Education Foundation seal.
“Callie Reyes. Jackie Chen. Ernie Patel. On behalf of the school board and our community, I am honored to award you each an academic scholarship for excellence in science and service.”
The gym erupted.
Callie’s cheeks flushed as she walked forward to accept her envelope. Jackie grinned so hard it looked like it hurt. Ernie’s hands trembled slightly as he took his, eyes shining behind his glasses.
“Looks like this time,” Jackie whispered as they stood side by side, “the man really did lose.”
“Thank you, Principal Wall,” Mr. Golding added when he took the mic for a second, voice thick. “But the true heroes… are the students. They saw what the adults missed. And they didn’t give up.”
After the assembly, the gym slowly emptied into hallways where laughter replaced whispers of fear.
In the corner by the bleachers, Kevin shuffled over to Ernie, scratching the back of his neck.
“Hey,” he said. “Um… thanks again. For bringing me to the nurse when I passed out in the parking lot. And for not… you know… letting me crash my car into anyone else.”
“You’re welcome,” Ernie said. “You’d have done the same for me.”
Kevin smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, maybe. Eventually. You’re… not so bad. For a nerd.”
He flexed his still-healing arm. “Maybe you could make me one of those protein shakes you’re always talking about. So I can work on my muscles.”
“I don’t always talk about protein shakes,” Ernie protested, then stopped. “Okay, I do. And yeah. I’ll hook you up.”
“Cool,” Kevin said. “Just… maybe use bottled water.”
Across the gym, Mateo leaned against the wall, IV bruise fading, hospital band finally cut off. Callie walked up, twisting at the strap of her backpack again.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” he echoed.
“You look better,” she said. “Less like a ghost. More like a semi-alive teenager.”
“High praise,” he said, smiling. “Doc says once the metals flush out, I’ll be good as new. Or at least as good as I was before cafeteria food.”
He shifted his weight. “Thanks,” he added quietly. “For… everything. For not just believing the ‘it’s just a virus’ story. For… worrying.”
“It wasn’t just me,” she said, cheeks heating. “It was all of us.”
“You should’ve seen how upset she was,” Jackie called as she walked by. “It was pretty cute, not gonna lie.”
“Jackie,” Callie hissed.
Mateo chuckled. “Look,” he said. “Is it weird if I say I was kind of hoping I’m more than just ‘a friend’ to you?”
Callie swallowed. “No,” she said. “Because I was kind of hoping the same thing.”
He grinned. “So… after school… bottled water and homework date?”
“Deal,” she said.
They laughed, the sound mixing with the squeak of sneakers and the distant hiss of a newly installed filter in the hallway.
The school was still old. The walls were still chipped. The roof still leaked when it rained. Budget fights would continue. There would be new principals, new problems, new headlines.
But for the first time in a long time, Bookside High felt like a place where the truth could win.
Where kids in a public school somewhere in the United States could prove that science mattered, that their voices mattered, that clean water was not a luxury—it was a right. And where an evil secret, kept for money, had finally come to light because a handful of students refused to look away.
Water made up about sixty percent of their bodies.
But courage, it turned out, made up the rest.
