The sirens blared behind him, but Ethan Bennett didn't dare glance back. His sneakers pounded the pavement as he sprinted down the dimly lit street, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The officers shouted for him to stop, but Ethan's only thought was escape.
His parents had been caught. The authorities had stormed their home earlier. They were planning to deport them and wanted to deport Ethan alongside them as they could not find any document proof that Ethan was born in Canada. Grace and Todd Bennett, the only parents Ethan had ever known, couldn't provide it. The paperwork was missing, just like the answers Ethan had been searching for his whole life.
"You can't deport me," Ethan muttered through gritted teeth as he rounded a corner. "I don't even know where I'm from."
The police weren't far behind. Ethan's heart raced, matching the rhythm of his steps, but his legs were beginning to give out. He stumbled, almost falling, and the officers gained ground.
"This is it," he thought. "I'm going to be deported. I don't even know where they are planning to deport me to."
Then, something inside him shifted. His vision blurred, and a strange warmth surged through his body. He blinked, and suddenly, the world slowed down—or maybe he sped up.
The officers froze mid-step, their mouths open in shouts he couldn't hear. The streetlights flickered in surreal slow motion. Ethan looked down at his hands, which glowed faintly with a blue hue.
"What's happening to me?" he whispered, but there was no time to think. His instincts took over.
In the next moment, he ran.
But this wasn't running as he knew it. This was something else entirely. The wind roared in his ears as buildings blurred past, their colors blending into streaks. Trees, cars, and even people became indistinguishable smears. He was moving too fast for his mind to process.
When he finally skidded to a stop, his momentum carried him forward, and he tumbled into the dirt, landing hard on his side. Gasping for breath, Ethan pushed himself up and looked around.
The first thing he noticed was the heat. The air was warmer, and the trees were different—taller and denser. He turned his head and spotted a nearby sign. Squinting through the dim light, he read the words aloud.
"Welcome to America."
Ethan blinked, his brain struggling to catch up. "What? How did I…? Wasn't I just…?"
He turned in a circle, searching for answers in the unfamiliar landscape.
"Did I just run to another country?"
Meanwhile, in a bustling high school classroom in the United States, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation.
"Alright, everyone, settle down!" The teacher clapped her hands, silencing the chatter. "I have exciting news. This year's interschool spelling bee is being held in the state capital, and our school will be participating!"
A murmur spread through the room, and a few hands shot up with questions.
"Now, now," the teacher continued, "I've already selected the team, out of the many students that showed interest and rehearsed with us, I've picked the five that will be going with me to represent America. Liam, Emma, and you three will represent us. Congratulations to all of you."
Liam leaned back in his chair, smirking slightly as his name was called. Emma, seated beside him, nudged his arm.
"Don't let it go to your head, genius," she teased.
"Too late," Liam replied with a grin.
The following day, the team boarded the school bus, heading toward the state capital. Liam stared out the window, deep in thought. He wasn't just excited about the competition; he was determined to win.
The venue was grand, a large hall filled with students from across the country and beyond. Schools from Australia, the United Kingdom, and the United States gathered under one roof, their representatives seated in rows on stage.
As the competition progressed, Liam answered question after question with ease but he wasn't the only one on a streak. Many other participants were answering question after question without difficulty. He knew that it was going to be hard to win but he decided to continue his streak, eventually, one of the other participants would make a mistake. However, in the final round, his confidence wavered.
The moderator turned to Liam. "Your word is 'defenestration.'"
Liam hesitated for the first time that day. He spelled it out loud, but one letter was wrong.
A hush fell over the room as the moderator turned to the next competitor. "Sophie Blake from the United Kingdom, can you spell the word?"
Sophie, a petite girl with bright blue eyes, stood confidently. "D-E-F-E-N-E-S-T-R-A-T-I-O-N. Defenestration."
The room erupted into applause as Sophie smiled and took her seat. Liam sank into his chair, devastated.
After the event ended, Liam found Sophie outside the venue. She was holding her trophy, a wide grin plastered across her face.
"Congratulations," Liam said, extending his hand.
Sophie looked up, surprised, but then shook his hand warmly. "Thanks. You did really well, though."
"Not well enough," Liam replied with a small laugh. "I'm coming for that trophy next year."
"I'm counting on it." Sophie said with a chuckle.
Ethan was about to make another remark when suddenly, a gust of wind knocked them off their feet. Both teenagers tumbled to the ground, their trophies clattering beside them.
"What the—?" Sophie started, scrambling to her knees.
Liam helped her up, his eyes scanning their surroundings. Something—or someone—had hit them.
"What just happened?" Sophie asked, brushing dirt off her blazer.
Before Liam could answer, he spotted a figure sprawled on the ground nearby. The boy looked disoriented, his clothes dirty and torn. They immediately realized that the gust of wind that knocked them off their feet was generated by that boy.
Liam opened his mouth in shock. "What the hell are you?"