He leapt out of bed, full of energy, and walked up to her.
“Hey Mom, what are you making?”
“I’m making some sandwiches for your school lunchbox,” she replied with a tired smile.
His eyes widened. He dropped to his knees dramatically, tears brimming.
“Shit—I didn’t know yesterday was Sunday!”
She gave him a light smack on the head. “Language.”
The realization drained the energy from his body. He mumbled something inaudible, dragged himself to the bathroom to brush his teeth, washed up, and by the time he came out, his mother had already left in search of a job. He grabbed the lunchbox and stepped outside.
The slums greeted him with the usual assault of harsh smells and muddy potholes. His shoes were already wet, but Jace stayed positive. Today was beetle tournament day. A big event at school, at least in his world.
Then it hit him—he forgot to catch a beetle.
He groaned and muttered, “Guess I’ll have to find one when I get there.”
As he passed by a peeling billboard, a poster caught in the wind fluttered briefly. It had the image of Celeste on it. He didn’t even notice.
Meanwhile, Celeste was being driven to her school by a personal chauffeur. Her eyes scanned over her father’s new policy documents, half out of interest, half out of habit. The streets were spotless, with marbled sidewalks and uniformed patrols. The opposite of the slums. The height of luxury.
Her expression was blank. Another day at school. Nothing new. Nothing fun.
Back with Jace, he was now outside his school: “School for the Powerless.” The building was chipped, worn, and stained—but none of that mattered right now.
He was hunting.
Eyes scanning the bushes near the gate, Jace was laser-focused, whispering to himself, “C’mon… just one beetle…”
A voice called out behind him, casual but warm.
“Still searching for beetles, huh?”
He turned to see his neighbor and school senior: Riley Quinn. She was naturally beautiful, though her mechanics outfit—splattered with oil—gave her a rough, hands-on look. She held something in her hand.
“I figured you’d forget again,” she said. “Here—made you this.”
She handed him a small device shaped like a beetle.
“What is it?” he asked, squinting.
“Beetle Tracker. Finds beetles.”
He stared at it, unimpressed.
“That’s the name? You could’ve gone with ‘Beetle Super Searcher’ or something cooler.”
Riley sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Take it or leave it, Jace.”
He grinned and grabbed it. Within minutes, he found a small beetle crawling under a pipe.
“Let’s go! I got a winner!”
Riley raised a brow. “It’s… tiny. And kinda frail.”
Jace held it up proudly. “He’ll win.”
They split ways soon after, and Jace realized he was late. Again. He rushed into class and immediately got scolded, but his mind was already on the tournament.
In contrast, Celeste arrived at her pristine school on time. Nothing happened that morning. No drama. No tournament. Just… silence.
Later that day, the beetle tournament was underway. And to everyone’s surprise, Jace’s tiny beetle kept winning. Round after round. It wasn’t strong—but it was fast, scrappy, and refused to back down.
Jace felt a strange swell of pride.
With the final match won, he raised his arms in victory. Prize: five bucks.
He headed home, his prize money stuffed in his pocket. When he walked in, his mother was already asleep—passed out from exhaustion in the middle of the afternoon. He checked on her quietly. She looked paler than usual, but peaceful.
He stood there a moment longer, staring at her.
“She’s like my beetle… small, tired, but never gives up.”
Meanwhile, in her massive home, Celeste arrived to silence. No father. No greetings. Just her, a long empty hallway, and a tablet full of policies to read.
She smiled faintly. This was what she’d been waiting for.
Night fell, and in two very different places, they both drifted to sleep. One dreaming of beetles. The other dreaming of power