CHAPTER 136: PASSING

CLARK POV:

I regret not locking my damn door. Like seriously, how hard is it to remember that basic survival step when you live with a demon disguised as a girl?

I should’ve known.

I should’ve known when she didn’t argue with mom last night about doing the dishes. I should’ve known when she smiled too sweetly at me before bed. And I definitely should’ve known when she walked past my room humming like she was in a Disney movie.

But nope. I was too tired, too comfortable in my warm bed, too focused on my peaceful morning plans—only for it to go straight to hell.

Because my stupid twin—yes, I said it—chose the ultimate revenge move.

She threw a whole-ass bucket of ice-cold water on me while I was still sleeping.

It wasn’t just a splash.

It was a biblical flood.

Straight-up Noah’s Ark level. I woke up gasping like I was being baptized against my will.

The bed? Soaked.

The blanket? A soggy towel.

Me? Dripping and confused, looking like I just crawled out of a lake in my sleepwear.

And Clare? That psychopath was cackling at the door like she just won the villain of the year award.

"REVENGE," she screamed like a Marvel supervillain. "YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD DELETE MY VIDEO AND WALK AWAY?!"

I jumped out of bed, slipping on the wet sheets, nearly breaking my spine as I screamed, "WHAT THE HELL, CLARE?!"

She took off running, of course, and I followed, yelling, dripping, and vowing that this was war now.

The floor was a damn slip-n-slide, and I could hear mom from downstairs already screaming, "IF YOU TWO BREAK ONE MORE THING IN THIS HOUSE—!"

Too late, a picture frame fell.

Again.

So now I’m standing in the hallway, soaked, shivering, and plotting how to break into her room tonight without getting caught.

Because this?

This means war.

And this time, I’m locking my door.

I still can’t believe it—she woke up early. EARLY. The same girl who could sleep through an earthquake, a hurricane, and a marching band outside her window, woke up before fully sunrise... just to get back at me. That’s how far her evil goes.

I came downstairs soaked, grumpy, freezing, ready to wage war—and instead, I walked into a whole freaking celebration.

There was Mom and Dad, standing in the living room like it was Christmas morning, beaming at me, clapping, even going in for hugs—while I’m dripping wet in pajamas, looking like I got thrown into a pool by a mob boss.

"Congratulations!" Dad grinned, clapping me on the back—splashing water everywhere, mind you.

Mom pulled me into a hug and made a weird face. "Why are you wet?"

I didn’t even have time to answer before Clare slithered into view, standing behind them with the fakest sweet smile I’ve ever seen, sipping from her mug like she didn’t just waterboard me awake an hour ago.

She even had the nerve to raise an eyebrow like "Oh, you’re awake? Must be nice."

I was still trying to process everything when Dad said, "Didn’t you see the news this morning?"

"Huh?" I blinked. "What news?"

"That your results came in early!" Mom said, all proud and emotional. "You made it, Clark! Not just passed—you’re one of the top students in the region. You and the school were mentioned on national TV!"

My jaw dropped.

Wait. What?

I looked at Clare who was now grinning wider, because she clearly already knew.

She knew.

And instead of waking me up with, you know, a normal sibling celebration, she chose the bucket. Because of course she did.

So here I am—wet, pissed, confused—and suddenly one of the top students in the country.

I didn’t know whether to scream, cry, or start planning revenge.

But hey... I made it.

So yeah... I made it.

Despite sleepless nights, stupid songs about mountain ranges and ancient treaties, and my insane twin sister’s daily chaos—I freaking made it.

Mom was already tearing up. Dad was pretending not to get emotional, but I saw him wipe the corner of his eye when he thought no one was looking. I wanted to celebrate too, but it’s kind of hard to soak in the glory when your underwear is still dripping and your sister is giving you smug looks over her cereal bowl.

Clare raised her spoon and said with the fakest sweetness,

"You’re welcome, by the way."

I stared at her, deadpan. "You soaked me."

She shrugged. "Balance. You deleted my videos, I got my revenge. Now we’re even. Oh, and congrats, smartass."

"You woke up early just to dump water on me," I muttered. "You haven’t been up before 10 AM since—ever."

She smiled wider. "Yeah, but seeing that look on your face? Totally worth it."

I swear she lives off chaos. Like if there was a spirit of mischief, Clare would be its earthly vessel.

Still... even I couldn’t stay mad for long.

Because behind her teasing, I knew she was proud. Proud the idiot twin with all the crazy study songs actually did something big. And honestly, I kind of wanted to rub it in her face that I got into university. That my name was actually on the national freaking news. But then, the weight of what this meant started to hit me.

I was going.

For real.

Leaving home. Leaving Clare.

Suddenly, the house felt a little smaller, and the moment a little bigger.

It’s weird, you spend years hoping to escape, to move on, to level up—then it happens, and all you can think about is who you’re leaving behind.

Even Clare, chaos demon that she is.

She must’ve seen the shift on my face, because she nudged me with her foot under the table and mumbled,

"Don’t get soft now. You’re gonna make me barf."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. You’ll miss me when I’m gone."

"Yeah, right." She stuck out her tongue. "I’m gonna have the whole house to myself. No one playing dumb playlists at 2 AM. No one eating my snacks. No one replacing my shampoo with slime—"

"Okay, first of all, that slime was for science."

"And you’re so lucky Mom was there, or I would’ve shaved your eyebrows in your sleep."

I laughed. She laughed. And just for a second, it felt like we were kids again—no university, no future looming, just two idiot twins at the breakfast table trying not to destroy each other.

But deep down, I knew this was it.

Change was coming.

And I was ready.

Sort of.

"Let’s check your result then," I told Clare, still dripping wet and mildly traumatized by her early-morning water ambush.

She just shrugged, completely unbothered. "They haven’t released it yet. Mom said only the top ten got announced this morning."

Right. I remember that now—Mom had basically sung it like a national anthem while handing me a towel earlier. According to her, the rest of the students would get access to their results at 4 PM, when the portal opened.

So Clare’s result? Still locked behind the academic version of Fort Knox.

"Guess we wait, huh?" I muttered, more to myself than anyone.

But my brain was already sprinting ahead. Sara.

I wanted to text her so bad—tell her I made it, ask about her results, maybe joke that I sang my way to victory. But I couldn’t—not yet. Not until I was sure she passed too. Especially not after the weird call from last night. I could still hear her voice—shaky, angry, scared. Someone had told her that Memoville wasn’t what it seemed, that they didn’t care about grades, that it was... shady.

I wanted to believe it was just pre-results anxiety messing with her mind. Or maybe a cruel prank. Maybe even her ex being a manipulative piece of garbage or her apparent boyfriend that she didn’t tell me about not wanting her to go that far. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to fuel it by coming off like I was celebrating without her.

So yeah. I was keeping quiet. For now.

But then another realization hit me—and this one made me physically stop mid-step on the staircase.

Crap. I only applied to Memoville for Clare.

That’s it.

Just one freaking university.

One slot. One chance.

It was supposed to be a joke at first. A secret "just in case" because I couldn’t stand the thought of going somewhere that far without her. So while she was off being stubborn and yelling about not needing college, I quietly filled out the application. Typed up her personal statement based on a draft she wrote last year for a scholarship she never submitted. Forged her signature on the digital form.

I even hacked her email to confirm it.

Don’t judge me—I’m a good brother. A sneaky, potentially-illegal, morally-questionable good brother.

But now I was regretting not applying to other places for her too. Because what if she didn’t get in? What if her grades weren’t enough? What if the universe decided to be cruel and split us up anyway?

I could almost hear her voice in my head saying:

"Told you I’m not cut out for this crap."

And the idea of walking through the gates of Memoville University alone, knowing Clare was stuck back home with her biker gang and her baseball bat... it didn’t sit right.

Still, nothing I could do now but wait. Her results come out at 4. The university admission responses start tomorrow.

So yeah.

Countdown’s on.

Clare’s got no idea what’s coming—and honestly, neither do I.