THE NEXT MORNING
MICHAEL
Peace lasted four hours. A new record, honestly. The sun had barely risen when I was woken by the unmistakable sound of chaos, shouting, hurried footsteps, and what sounded like someone tripping over the hallway rug for the third time. Then came the door. SLAM.
"BROTHER MICHAEL!"I heard Charlie's voice.
Zavier groaned beside me, instantly burying his head under a pillow.
"If I stay still, maybe he'll think I'm a pillow too." He muttered.
I didn't get the luxury. The door burst open and there was Charlie drenched in morning dew, clutching a stack of crumpled papers, hair sticking up in seventeen different directions like divine lightning had struck him personally. His eyes were wide, pupils the size of moons. He looked like he hadn't slept since the invention of calendars.
"BROTHER." He gasped dramatically, stumbling inside. "I-I think I've been chosen!"
I blinked.
"...For what? Breakfast?"I asked.
