Future Changes — Chapter 5 part 1

After flagball practice, everyone was still on the field, sitting on the artificial grass, sweaty, exhausted, and laughing at jokes that disguised their fatigue.

The teacher, standing in front of them, kept his hands behind his back and his hard gaze fixed on the horizon of the stadium. Suspicion marked his face: why did the Arcadians want a rematch again, precisely in our stadium? He muttered, more to himself than to the players:

— Something is wrong with this... their tragedy already seemed personal... it feels like war, not sport...

Someone muttered a confused “Huh?” but he did not answer.

Dark, of course, did not miss the chance to provoke them:

— They’re going to come hungrier than Tycho when he forgets to eat lunch.

Laughter exploded. Even the teacher raised an eyebrow without commenting. Theo, however, remained quiet. Out of breath, his eyes fixed on the ground, as if the laughter of the others could not reach him.

When practice ended, the teacher dismissed them, reminding them about discipline. The field slowly emptied, the voices fading as the players headed toward the locker room or cafeteria.

But Theo did not go with them.

He walked alone to a discreet corner of the field — the same place where, days before, he had found Ceres. For a moment, he imagined she might be there, waiting. But there was no one.

The emptiness did not frustrate him, only brought a cold, familiar silence. Without hurry, he turned around.

That was when Tycho came running after him, sweaty shirt, red face, eyes filled with tears.

— Theo... they kept making fun of me... said I’m like you used to be. A chubby crybaby... — he sniffled.

Theo stopped and looked at his brother.

— And it’s not a lie. I was chubby and a crybaby too, just like you — he replied calmly.

Tycho bit his lip, trying to hold back his anger.

— But... you’re the team captain now. I’ll never be like you...

Theo looked away toward the field illuminated by the stadium’s cold lights.

— I used to think it would never happen either — he finally said.

Tycho did not answer. He simply lowered his head and walked beside his brother, feeling a strange warmth in his chest.

Maybe it was hope.

Theo saw her first — sitting in the shade of the bleachers, as if she had already been waiting for him.

Without taking his eyes off her, he walked toward Ceres.

She raised her chin, a cynical, almost genuine smile playing on her lips.

— I believe you were looking for me in that corner — she said.

Theo nodded dryly:

— Yes. So what?

— Hmmm... — Ceres leaned back, crossing her arms. — I saw the group making fun of your brother. Heard you say you used to be like him, chubby and weak. Sounds like a lie... Now look at you. Team captain. Mother Ceres’s little prince leader.

Her smile widened — poisonous, but in an honest way.

Theo raised an eyebrow.

— You should smile like that more often.

Ceres laughed quietly.

— No need. I don’t do what other people tell me.

— You do whatever you want. — Theo tilted his head, watching her. — But you also scare anyone. I like that. Even Dru, who’s so social, gets intimidated by you.

— Hm. — Ceres narrowed her eyes. — And what is she to you?

— A friend.

Ceres let out a dry, dismissive sound.

— I see. Just a friend... Funny. She follows you around. She’s even hiding right now, spying on us.

Theo smiled from the corner of his mouth.

— I know. My feelings for her are well resolved.

Ceres leaned forward, curious:

— This “friend” of yours who orbits around you... has interests that are quite different from friendship.

— Maybe. I have no problem with that.

She raised an eyebrow.

— What do you mean? You’re friends with Daime and Gene too. Have you never been with them?

— No.

— Why?

Theo looked at her firmly:

— Because it wasn’t my preference. That doesn’t mean I’m not vulnerable. It just means I’m comfortable with who I am. The friendship I have with Dru is clear, independent of any involvement. Of course, some people confuse things and get more involved. But that’s not your problem.

Ceres widened her eyes slightly and laughed without humor:

— Wow... you’re tough, aren’t you?

Theo kept his gaze locked on hers.

— Dru and I... find comfort in each other’s silence.

Ceres fell silent too.

A long pause settled between them — an uncomfortable rehearsal of an intimacy neither of them was willing to name.

It was almost a dispute: one devouring the other with their eyes, testing who would look away first.

And neither did.

The silence stretched on.

It was vast. Almost unbearable.

Leadership against leadership. Arrogance against arrogance.

A game of wills so dense that the air between them seemed difficult to breathe.

And yet, there, they found something unexpected:

Chemistry.

Perfect chemistry.

Like two equal forces that do not cancel each other out — they collide and burn.

In the shadows, hidden, Dru watched.

On the outside, calm.

Inside, shattered.

She wanted Theo — and part of her wanted to believe she still had him.

But seeing those two together, in that harmony of fire and ice, was like feeling his arms slipping through her fingers.

Part of her wanted to hate Ceres.

But she couldn’t.

Ceres was strong. She was not a leader yet... but she already carried the aura of one.

And Dru knew: it was a fair victory.

Ceres held his gaze for another second, almost laughing at the effort both of them were making not to look away.

Finally, she leaned slightly forward, convinced, and broke the silence:

— You’re right, Theo... — she said, with an almost tender smile. — Your silence is comfortable, little leader.

The tone was half provocation, half admiration.

But for the first time that night, there was no cynicism in her eyes.

She was walking away, slow steps, when she stopped at the door.

She turned her head, just enough to give him one last look — this time without irony, but with something new, almost... human.

— I’m a little jealous of you — she said in a low voice, almost a secret. — But I wonder... what’s the point of being tough if, in the end, you have a vulnerable heart?

Theo did not hesitate.

He looked back at her, firm, and answered in a calm voice, but full of weight:

— I never said my heart wasn’t vulnerable.

He paused.

The corner of a smile appeared on his face.

— We all have cracks... that’s where the light gets in.

Ceres held his gaze for another second.

And, for the first time, she lowered her eyes.

A brief laugh, almost imperceptible, escaped her lips.

The ice between them... broke.

And for a moment, in that stillness, the entire city seemed small before the grandeur of that moment.

Then, without another word, she left.

And Theo remained there, feeling, perhaps for the first time in a long time, that he had found someone capable of seeing what lay behind the cracks.

When Ceres walked away, Dru could no longer bear to remain in the shadows.

Her breathing was broken, her throat tied in a knot.

She waited a few moments, swallowing her tears, then walked quickly into the building, disappearing into the bathroom.

There, leaning against the cold sink, she finally allowed herself to take a deep breath.

The face reflected in the mirror seemed strange, colorless.

She wondered what, exactly, had happened out there — and why it hurt so much to see that chemistry between them.

Then the door creaked, and light footsteps echoed across the tiles.

Dru looked in the mirror and, of course, saw Ceres.

She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, simply watching for a moment.

There was a calm air about her — without cynicism, but without asking for forgiveness.

— Theo... is a great friend — Ceres finally said. Her voice was low, but firm. — Just a friend.

She paused.

— Because, as I said... orbits collide. And today, they collided. You saw it.

Dru pressed her lips together, trying to answer.

But nothing came out.

Ceres continued:

— I don’t want you any harm, Dru. I never did. I’m not the kind who goes around crushing people for sport. But... the rules are already set.

For a moment, her eyes gleamed, saying more than her words.

— And I’d rather you hear that from my mouth.

Silence.

The sound of a dripping pipe was the only thing filling the bathroom.

Ceres pushed herself away from the wall and walked toward the door.

Before leaving, she turned one last time, with that half-smile that could never be deciphered:

— Don’t look for me, Dru. I look for you... and everyone else. Always.

And she disappeared down the hallway, leaving Dru alone, with a mixture of hurt and respect burning in her chest.

Waiting, Sweet Waiting

The next day, Kat woke up different.

Her missed period, the nausea while brushing her teeth, the smell of the soap turning her stomach.

Her breasts were sensitive. A heaviness in her body.

That urge to cry for no reason.

She spent the morning in silence, frightened by the possibility her mind was whispering.

In Mother Ceres, pregnancy was both a blessing — and a sentence.

What they did with pregnant teenagers and women... was not easy to explain.

It was not cruel.

But it was not right either.

It was different.

Very different.

In the cafeteria, the smell of the food almost knocked her down.

She complained quietly, trying to disguise it, while everyone around her continued with their routine.

It was the day of the big game between Ceres and Arcadia.

Gene talked about nothing else, excited, gesturing as he described strategies and provocations.

The boys were thinking only about the score.

Kat withdrew into a corner, murmuring that she needed to go to the bathroom.

Dru followed her with her eyes, concern obvious on her face.

Even Ana, with her usual dislike, seemed to notice.

And from a distance, Ceres watched.

It was curious — a silent epidemic among the women.

A secret floated through the air, perceived differently by each one.

The men noticed nothing.

They were thinking only about Flagball.

Kat locked herself in the bathroom.

She sat on the toilet lid, hugging her legs.

The cold tile. The light too white.

The silence, interrupted only by the distant sound of the cafeteria and the dripping pipes.

She tried to convince herself it was just stress. A delay, nothing more.

But the morning nausea... the fatigue... the smell of the food... and the pain in her breasts.

Her body screamed what her mind did not want to hear.

— I don’t want this... — she whispered, begging for it to be a lie. — Not here... not now...

A tear ran down, hot, burning the cold skin of her cheek.

Then another.

And another.

Until the crying came without restraint.

The teachings of the Mothers echoed in her head, like a sentence repeated to exhaustion:

“Mother Ceres needs children.”

They said that being chosen to give children to the city was an honor.

That the Mothers would take care of her.

That they would prepare her to truly serve.

But she did not want it.

Not yet.

And fear took over.

There were no medicines for it.

There was no way back.

Mother Ceres needed children...

But the prospect of being dragged into that destiny frightened her more than any punishment.

Kat cried quietly, her head pressed against the freezing tile, lost in the despair of someone realizing she might have no choice.

She buried her hands in her hair, her forehead resting on her knees, and cried.

The crying slowly gave way to a dense silence.

Without realizing it, she began to whisper the prayer they all learned as children.

— Mother Ceres, who feeds... who educates... who devours... — her voice trembling, choked. — Please help me. My salvation. I am in despair.

She raised her eyes toward the ceiling of the stall, as if her gaze could pass through concrete.

As if, up there, someone might hear.

— My body is changing... food seems disgusting... I throw up all the time... — she let out a nervous, bitter little laugh that sounded more like a sob. — I failed. I failed with the contraceptive methods... it was obvious... but I screwed up. What a shame.

A sob tore through her throat, but she continued:

— Mother Ceres... please... I don’t want to have children now... I promise I’ll give millions one day, when you want me to... but not today... please... not today...

She pressed her forehead against the tile again, repeating like a mantra:

— Not today... not today... not today...

Outside, the muffled lament continued.

Dru gently knocked on the door, her soft voice trying to cross the barrier:

— Kat... open the door. I don’t know what’s happening, but... let me help.

Nothing but sobs in response.

Ana appeared in the hallway, arms crossed, with her typical crooked smile:

— Tsk. I already said this one is weak. She doesn’t even have the courage to open the door.

The venomous comment was made loudly enough for Dru to hear.

Dru clenched her fists.

— Shut up, Ana — she shot back, her patience at its limit. — Kat... please...

Still, no sign from the other side.

The sound of firm footsteps echoed down the hallway.

When Ceres entered the bathroom, the entire atmosphere froze.

It was as if the air became heavier simply because of her presence.

— What is that noise? — The question was direct, cutting.

No one answered.

Only Kat’s muffled crying continued beyond the closed door.

Dru tried to explain, her voice trembling:

— I... I don’t know what to do. She won’t open...

Ceres remained silent for a moment.

When she spoke, her voice was cold, precise, like cracking ice:

— I’m going to count to three for that door to open.

Or I’ll knock it down and send all of you to detention for damaging the bathroom.

Her gaze was steel.

No one doubted her.

Even Ana took a step back.

On the other side of the door, Kat unlocked it.

When the door opened, she was pale, her eyes swollen, her body hunched as if she were about to collapse.

Ceres approached with calm steps.

The others held their breath, expecting a cruel reprimand, an exemplary punishment.

But instead, Ceres knelt before Kat.

She took Kat’s cold hands and looked deeply into her eyes.

Ceres’s voice came out low, sweet, almost... maternal:

— What happened, little one?

Tell us. We can help.

Kat hesitated.

The tears returned.

Her voice was only a thread, almost inaudible:

— I... I think I’m pregnant.

A collective gasp echoed behind Ceres.

Almost a muffled scream.

But Ceres did not react.

She held Kat’s hands firmly, maintaining her gaze, serene.

— Is that all? — she said in a soft, almost reassuring tone. — Then everything is fine... Mother Ceres will take care of you.

Then, solemnly, Ceres began reciting the mantra they all knew:

— Mother Ceres, who feeds us... who educates us... who devours us...

The others, still trembling, repeated it in chorus behind her. Those words, though feared, carried something comforting.

— Mother Ceres, who feeds us... who educates us... who devours us...

Kat cried, but she no longer seemed so alone.

Ceres was still holding her trembling hands, not letting them go for anything. Kneeling before her, the icy gaze softened by a strange warmth, Ceres spoke gently:

— Do you think Mother Ceres is going to abandon you? — she asked quietly, almost in a whisper. — No... no, little one. She never abandons her children.

Kat looked at her, confused, caught between fear and hope.

Ceres continued, the words flowing like a spell:

— It’s frightening... I know. Because everything can be different afterward. But that’s how it is. It is natural to fear... when you are standing before a miracle.

She guided Kat’s hand to her own chest, as if she wanted her to feel her heart beating firmly.

— The true miracle, Kat... is the emergence and generation of a child. It is no coincidence that we call her our Mother. She gave birth to us all. And now... you may become a mother too. As good as She is.

Kat choked on a sob. Ceres, still kneeling, gently lifted her chin, forcing her to meet her eyes.

— There is nothing more magical — Ceres said — than the birth of a child who will also love the Mother, serve Her, learn from Her. You are lucky to be here with us, beneath Her mantle.

The other girls said nothing anymore. They simply watched the scene in reverent silence, feeling the force of those words echo deep within them.

Ceres opened a slight smile, serene, almost maternal, but still with that touch of authority no one dared challenge.

— All the ego you feel, all this fear, and all the love you will still feel... all of it emanates from the Mother. She is real. She is the only truth we have.

Then she closed her eyes for a moment and, with a firm voice, recited the mantra:

— Mother Ceres... who feeds us... who educates us... and who devours us...