On Friday the 13th, Olek, Zuza, and Kuba spot something deeply suspicious in the school canteen: a mysterious jar that may be hiding the answer to the lunch sabotage.
The school canteen had always been a little questionable, but ever since Mrs Helena started serving soups with names longer than the class register, things had gone from bad to worse. On Friday the 13th, the menu board promised: Surprise Soup with a Hint of the Exotic, Dream Chops, and Mrs Helena's Special Jar. That last item looked the most dangerous.
"Who calls a meal a special jar?" Olek muttered as he stood in line with Zuza and Kuba.
Zuza narrowed her eyes at the serving hatch. "My grandmother keeps pickles in jars. Maybe jam. Maybe emergency buttons. Nobody normal keeps a special jar."
Kuba already had his phone out. "If this turns into something weird, I'm filming it. The internet does not feed itself."
The canteen buzzed with whispers. Trays clattered. Chairs scraped. Everyone was watching Mrs Helena, who had disappeared into the kitchen and returned carrying a cloudy glass jar held close to her chest like evidence in a crime drama.
She set it behind the till without a word.
Kuba leaned toward the others. "Tell me I'm imagining this, but that jar just moved."
Olek craned his neck. The jar sat there innocently enough, except for the faint wobble under the lid, as if something inside had opinions. "If a mutant cucumber jumps out of there, I'm living on bread rolls for the rest of my life."
Before anyone could decide whether that counted as a joke or a threat, a new figure stepped behind the counter.
Mr Wiesiek.
The school legend.
The man who could turn a fire drill into a comedy routine and make detention sound like a game show.
He grinned at the line of students as though he had been waiting for this exact moment. "Good news," he said in a low voice. "Today's dessert is a surprise. Better news: we might need volunteers."
That was all it took. The whole canteen seemed to tilt.
Zuza glanced at Olek. Olek glanced at Kuba. Kuba stopped filming long enough to stare.
"What kind of surprise?" Olek asked.
Mr Wiesiek only tapped the jar with one finger.
The sound was tiny. The reaction was not.
A ripple of murmurs ran through the canteen. Someone dropped a fork. Someone else laughed too loudly, like they were trying to convince themselves nothing strange was happening.
Zuza stepped forward first. "Fine. I'll do it."
Olek grabbed her sleeve. "Why do you always volunteer for the suspicious stuff?"
"Because nobody else does," she said, and reached for the jar.
Kuba lifted his phone again. "This is either going to be legendary or the worst lunch of our lives."
Zuza's fingers closed around the glass. The jar gave a soft clink against the counter, and the whole room seemed to hold its breath.
Then the lid began to turn, slowly, by itself.