MARCO

We're at Cassie's barn—technically the Wildlife Rehabilitation Clinic. Her parents are both veterinarians, so this place is always filled with animals. Right now, while the rest of us try to wait out the latest crisis, Cassie's calmly stuffing pills down the throat of an enormous swan like she's just solving a crossword puzzle.

Rachel, meanwhile, paces the floor like a caged tiger, her expression tight and fierce. "Okay, everyone, listen up. We have a real emergency this time." She stops mid-step, looks around at all of us. There's a flicker of something in her voice—worry, maybe? That's rare for Rachel.

I try to focus, really, I do. But I can't help it. My eyes keep following her, like they've got a mind of their own. Every step pulls me in, like I'm being dragged along against my will. The black shorts she's wearing? Yeah, they stretch over her curves, like they're trying to be a little more obvious than usual. The muscles in her legs are toned—like she's been working out or something. Not that I'm looking. I try not to, but it's like trying to stop a trainwreck. The tank top is loose enough to let me catch the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, and I'm doing my best to look anywhere but there. But she's making it hard. Seriously. And then there's the sun-kissed skin of her back, all bronzed and perfect like some impossible, unrealistic ideal.

Focus, Marco. Stop being that guy.

But it's hard not to be. The way she moves—it's effortless, like she owns the room. I've seen it a million times, but for some reason, this summer, it feels different. Stronger. Like the heat's turning everything up to eleven. And the more she keeps me at arm's length, the more I can't help but wonder what could've been. I mean, school ended weeks ago, and I thought maybe, just maybe, there'd be one moment—one moment where it's just us, and she doesn't run away. But nope. She keeps her distance. Is it because she's protecting me? Or maybe she doesn't feel the same way. I don't know. Whatever it is, I feel it—the weight of it. That space between us.

But I push the thoughts aside. She's my friend. That's it. Right?

I keep my eyes on her as she paces, her steps sharp and deliberate. Finally, she stops, looking up, and her voice cuts through the silence.

"I ran into this guy, David, at the park today. He has the blue box."

I swear I can feel my stomach drop. The words land like a brick, heavy and immediate. The room feels too small all of a sudden.

Jake's the first to react, all confused, like he hasn't been following the conversation at all. "What do you mean, he has the blue box?"

Rachel stops pacing. She looks at him, posture tense, and locks eyes with him. "I mean he had Elfangor's box," she says, her voice tight, trying to hide the fact that she's freaking out. She rubs her arm like she's cold or something, even though the barn's warm. "I bumped into him at the park. His backpack spilled, and there it was. Like it was no big deal."

Cassie tilts her head, giving Rachel a look that screams disbelief. "Are you sure it was the blue box?"

Rachel's eyes flash with impatience, and she shoots Cassie a sharp look. "It's kind of hard to forget the alien device that gave us morphing powers," she snaps, her tone defensive now. She crosses her arms over her chest, her jaw tight. "He found it at the construction site. Trust me—I know what I saw."

The weight of her words settles over us all.

In the midst of this, Ax had been unusually quiet. His strange Andalite body—sleek blue and tan fur, delicate arms with too many fingers, four hooves, and that deadly scorpion-whip tail—looked almost surreal against the rustic backdrop of the barn.

"What do you think happened, Ax?" Jake asked, his voice calm but direct.

[I do not know] Ax replied, his tone measured in thought-speak.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Rachel pressed, her frustration rising. "Is there something special about those blue boxes? Like, they can't be destroyed by Dracon beams or something?"

[No. It could be destroyed by a Dracon beam. All I can suggest is that perhaps it was a simple incident of random chance.]

"Is that Andalitese for a freak accident?" I quipped.

[Yes. The Dracon beam striking my brother's fighter would have created explosive pressures. Perhaps this pressure simply hurled the Escafil Device away at high speed.]

[The what?] Tobias asked from high in the rafters, his tone casual but curious.

[It is called an Escafil Device. Actually, it has a number of names. Escafil was the inventor of morphing technology. The science behind it is quite incredible. The device causes a cascading cellular regeneration tied to a Z-space—]

Jake raised a hand, cutting Ax off gently. "Ax, we'll get to the science later. Right now, we need a plan to get the device back."

"Before he figures out what it is," I added. "And, more importantly, before the Yeerks find out he has it."

[And we need to make sure he doesn't even suspect what's going on. We don't even know for sure if he's a Controller who just happens to be unfamiliar with Andalite technology] Tobias adds from above.

"But we have to be careful not to hurt him," Cassie said, her tone cautious but firm. "He could just be a kid who's in the wrong place at the wrong time."

I cross my arms and lean back against one of the barn's wooden beams, trying to look relaxed. "So, how are we even supposed to find him? What are the chances he just hangs out at the park all day?"

Rachel shifts, just a little too casually. "He asked me out. I have his number."

I narrow my eyes but force a grin, keeping my voice light. "Oh, really? Well, how convenient." My tone comes out teasing, but that knot of annoyance flares. David hits on her and gives her his number? Of course he does. What guy wouldn't? But I can't say anything about it. I don't have any right to. We're just friends, after all.

Still, this is about the blue box, not Rachel's random admirer. I need to stay focused.

Jake, oblivious to my mood, nods thoughtfully. "Okay, so Rachel, you call him. Set up a meeting, today if possible. You can keep him distracted and try to get him to tell you where he keeps the blue box. The rest of us can sneak in and grab it."

Rachel straightens, giving a sharp nod. "That could work. If he's expecting me, he won't be looking for anyone else."

I raise an eyebrow, unable to resist throwing in a comment. "So Rachel plays the femme fatale while the rest of us do the grunt work. Sounds about right."

Rachel's eyes narrow, lips pressing into a tight line like she's about to rip into me. For a second, though, she just stares. It's like something shifts in her gaze—guilt, maybe? It's subtle, but I see it. She looks away quickly, like I'm not supposed to notice. "Don't start, Marco."

I hold up my hands, smirking, though it feels a little forced. "Relax. I'm just saying, distracting a teenage boy? You've got that in the bag."

Her glare burns through me, and for a second, it's like we're back to square one—her and me, locked in this weird space of teasing and something else that neither of us is willing to admit. It's almost like a tug-of-war between the past and the present—everything unsaid but still hanging in the air.

Jake cuts in, his voice firm, and I'm thankful for the distraction. "Stay focused, both of you. This isn't a joke."

I shove my hands in my pockets, trying to keep my head clear. The knot of frustration hasn't loosened, but at least I'm not going to make things worse. I can't let this get to me. She's my friend. That's it. I remind myself of that again, even if it doesn't feel like enough.

I wave them off, playing it cool, but that knot of unease twists tighter in my stomach. "What? We've got this. It's not like we're going to run into Visser Three at some random kid's house."

But deep down, I have a bad feeling about all of this. Something tells me that David's going to be trouble—and we're only seeing the beginning.