An hour passed, and Ivy was still unsure if the Helpers Club had an actual structure or if Riley was just making things up as she went.
"So," Riley said, pacing at the front of the room with a half-eaten granola bar in one hand, "if you ever find yourself in the middle of a love triangle or a shattered vending machine crisis, remember the three pillars: listen, offer tissues, and, when possible, carry snacks."
Ivy blinked. "That's your system?"
"It's flexible."
"It's nonexistent."
Riley grinned. "Exactly. Improvisation is the heart of student wellness."
Before Ivy could argue further, the door creaked open so gently it was barely audible. Zhihao stepped inside like the room might detonate if he stepped too hard. His eyes scanned cautiously, landing on Riley.
"You made it," she said brightly. "Come in. Don't hover."
Zhihao stepped forward slowly, his posture tense but polite.
"You're perfect for this club," Riley continued.
He glanced between her and Ivy. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do."
"Help," Riley replied, gesturing to the open chair beside Ivy. "Watch. Learn. Offer tea if needed."
He hesitated, then sat. Ivy gave him a quick side glance. He adjusted the chair until it lined up precisely with the desk.
"He's serious about symmetry," Ivy muttered.
"That's how you know he's trustworthy," Riley said.
"Does it work that way?" Ivy asked.
Before Zhihao could ask any questions, there was a knock at the open door. A nervous-looking student peeked in.
"Uh, is this the Helpers Club? There's kind of a situation. In the hallway."
Riley clapped her hands once. "Perfect. Field test."
She pointed at Ivy and Zhihao. "You're up."
Zhihao blinked. "We get training first, right?"
Ivy stood up. "You're looking at it."
The student led them up one flight of stairs to a corridor near the supply rooms. At first glance, it looked quiet-until a soft poof of glitter burst out from under one of the doors.
Two second-years were crouched by the supply closet. The door was slightly open, and shimmering particles kept drifting out like magical static.
"We were just trying to fix the light," one boy said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Then she sneezed, and it just... started."
The girl beside him crossed her arms. "It's not my fault. My blessing reacts to sudden flashes. That ceiling bulb flickered, I sneezed, and-boom. Sparkles."
Riley leaned forward. Another puff of glitter shot out. She blinked, now sparkly. "Okay. Weirdly soothing."
"Her blessing releases sensory bursts when startled," the boy added. "And mine copies whatever I'm near. Now it's stuck looping."
"You've been copying the sparkle sneeze this whole time?" Ivy asked.
He nodded miserably. "I can't stop it. The closet's just... reacting."
Zhihao peeked toward the power box nearby. "Has anyone tried cutting power to the light circuit?"
The two students stared.
"That... might work," the girl said slowly.
Riley and Ivy exchanged a look, then walked over to the circuit panel. Ivy flicked the right switch. The lights inside the supply closet dimmed, and the sparkle bursts stopped instantly.
The air shimmered with fading glitter, but the chaos had ended.
"Thank you," the boy muttered.
"Sorry," the girl added. "We didn't mean to cause a mess."
Zhihao sneezed quietly. His sleeves and collar shimmered with leftover sparkles.
Ivy stared at him. "Please tell me you don't copy blessings."
Zhihao shook his head. "Just allergies."
Riley grinned. "Honestly, this might be the prettiest disaster we've solved."