Miguel's door shook as if someone was trying to break it down.
"Miguel."
Bang.
"Miguel!"
Bang. Bang.
"¡Mijo, wake up! You have five minutes left!"
Miguel groaned into his pillow, one arm flopping over his face. His phone buzzed on the nightstand: 6:42 a.m. He shot upright so fast that his head spun.
"Shit."
"Miguel Ángel!" his mom snapped from the other side of the door. "Do not start your day with that word!"
He swung his legs off the bed and stumbled across the room, nearly slipping on a pair of cleats he'd kicked off the night before.
"I'm up! I'm up!" he yelled back while pulling his door open.
His mom stood there in her robe, hair tied back, one eyebrow raised so high it looked painful. She didn't yell anymore. That was worse.
"You said that ten minutes ago," she said flatly. "If you miss the bus again, I'm not calling the school. Coach can yell at you instead."
Miguel flashed her a grin—the same one that had gotten him out of trouble since he was little. "C'mon, Ma. You know I can't miss practice. Game's Friday."
She crossed her arms. "You can't miss school either. You think scouts want a running back who can't wake up on time?"
That wiped the grin off his face.
"Yes, ma'am," he muttered.
She stepped aside. "Clothes. Now. Breakfast is already on the table. And wake your brother before I do."
Miguel saluted lazily. "On it."
She walked away shaking her head, muttering something in Spanish about boys and headaches.
Miguel slammed his door shut and moved fast—muscle memory from years of morning drills. Shirt, jeans, hoodie. He tied his shoes while hopping on one foot, grabbed his backpack, and swung it over his shoulder.
Then he opened Billy's door.
Billy didn't even look up.
He was sprawled across his bed, surrounded by thick old books with yellowed pages. One was open inches from his face. His lips moved silently as he read.
Miguel blinked. "Bro."
Nothing.
"Billy."
Still nothing.
Miguel walked in and leaned over, squinting at the page. "What is that, ancient hieroglyphs?"
Billy finally spoke. "Language," he said absently. "And no. It's a comparative analysis of Sphinx myths across—"
Miguel scooped him up.
Billy yelped as the book slipped from his hands. "YO—WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
Miguel slung him over his shoulder like a sack of laundry. "We're late."
"I was in the middle of a chapter!"
"You're always in the middle of a chapter."
Billy beat his fists weakly against Miguel's back. "Put me down! You're gonna crease the pages!"
Miguel laughed. "Man, I don't have time for this. If I'm late, I'm benched. If I'm benched, I might as well die."
Billy snorted. "You're dramatic. Also, I don't care about your football games."
Miguel stopped just long enough to glance back at him. "You don't care that your brother's about to secure his future?"
"I care that the Sphinx devours people who fail riddles," Billy shot back. "Which is way more interesting."
"Miguel! Billy!" their mom's voice rang from the kitchen. "I better not hear cursing!"
Miguel winced. "My bad!"
Billy rolled his eyes. "I was just trying to read my book—"
"MOM SAID NO CURSING!" Miguel shouted over him.
"IN THIS HOUSE!" their mom added, appearing at the end of the hallway like she had teleported.
Billy sighed. "This house is anti-intellectual."
She pointed at him. "This house feeds you. Sit down and eat."
Then she turned to Miguel. "Put your brother down before you drop him and I have to explain to the hospital why my sons are idiots."
Miguel gently set Billy on his feet. "See? Even Ma agrees."
Billy grabbed his book off the floor and hugged it to his chest. "You're lucky I love you."
They sat at the kitchen table—eggs, toast, sliced fruit. Miguel ate like he was racing against time. Billy ate slower, reading between bites.
Their mom sipped her coffee, watching them both as if she were trying to memorize their faces.
"Game Friday," she said casually.
Miguel lit up. "Yeah. Home game."
"You run hard," she said. "But you run smart. Don't try to be a hero."
He nodded. "Always."
Billy didn't look up. "Heroes die first in myths," he said.
Their mom clicked her tongue. "Billy."
"I'm just saying."
The house trembled.
Just for a second. A faint vibration, like a truck passing too closely.
Miguel paused mid-bite. "You feel that?"
Billy frowned. "Yeah."
Their mom frowned too, glancing at the ceiling. "Probably construction."
Miguel shrugged and went back to eating.
The second shake came harder.
The plates rattled. A glass tipped over, spilling orange juice across the table.
Billy's book slid an inch.
Miguel stood. "Okay, that one wasn't normal."
Their mom's face had gone pale. "Earthquakes don't happen here."
The house settled, and silence pressed in.
Then—nothing.
Miguel grabbed his keys. "We gotta go."
She grabbed his wrist. "Text me. Both of you."
"We will."
She pulled them both into a quick hug. "Be careful."
Miguel smiled. "Always are."
They ran outside.
Miguel's black van sat in the driveway, paint chipped and engine loud—but reliable. He tossed Billy into the passenger seat and peeled out as soon as they buckled in.
The radio crackled, then fell silent.
"That's weird," Miguel muttered, tapping it.
Billy stared out the window. "Miguel."
"What?"
"The ground."
The road shuddered.
Not shaking—rising.
Miguel slammed the brakes as the asphalt ahead split open. A crack ripped forward, swallowing street signs, mailboxes, and a parked car.
"WHAT THE HELL?" Miguel yelled.
The earth groaned. A deep sound, like something breathing under the planet.
Billy's hands shook. "That's not tectonic movement."
Miguel hit the gas.
Behind them, something moved beneath the ground—fast. Too fast.
Like it was chasing them.
They reached the school parking lot as students poured out of buildings, screaming, phones up, teachers shouting orders.
Another quake hit.
This one threw Miguel against the steering wheel.
The ground cracked open near the football field.
And something roared from below.
Miguel grabbed Billy's arm. "Find Josh. Now."
Billy swallowed hard. "Miguel…"
"What?"
"That book."
He looked down at the Sphinx text, now glowing faintly gold.
Billy whispered, "The myths were warnings."
The ground split open.
And Monday morning ended.