It began as a tingle on his upper lip. A blanket of white hairs on the back of his arms lifted, and fear crept up his spine to lodge in his mouth like a gag.

“Grand Master Wordhaven?” she said, sarcasm in every syllable.

He closed his eyes, the past playing across his inner sight like a play at the Riverside theater; Swift’s wilted body when they’d found her, the desperation on his children’s faces as they’d fled to safety, so far away. Then, unexpectedly, the cool clear streams of Far Forreston appeared, the place he’d first met his wife all those years ago. Was he about to join her?

A powerful blast of pressured air boxed his ears, and he blocked it weakly, clinging to the old knapsack that concealed what silver he had left. Wordhaven convulsed involuntarily, his aging body rejecting the foul reek of her power. As always, in her hands, the elements felt…diseased.

The unexpected crack of dry wood had him spinning as the roots of the trees beneath his feet broke, and tendrils more used to seeking water in the depths of the earth reared up to secure his ankles, yanking him to his knees, the bag sprawling its glinting contents across the pine needle carpet. Quickly, he flicked his fingers and muttered ancient words to the stream, his last hope, but he was too late.

“Drop,” she said, arrowing the spell with casual force, and he did, slamming face down.

Feather-soft steps, the brush of auburn curls against his cheek and hot breath in his ear, as she crouched low.

“Gotcha,” she said. Her satisfaction tainted the forest’s pure air with spite.

***

Brave crouched behind the dirty, yellow bin. The wall was hard against his backpack and the rubbish way too close to his nose. The stench of old food and wet carpet hung in the air.

He breathed fast. His throat ached. His heart pounded.

Were they still after him?

Footsteps pounded, and he held his breath. If they found him here, he’d be toast. Since last week in math when he’d corrected her in front of the whole class, Riley had internalized a life goal to torture him. Now just looking her way appeared to kickstart some kind of warped revenge mindset. She and her minions hadn’t managed to corner him yet, but it was only a matter of time.

There was a shout from the other side of the wall. He heard Riley laugh in excitement.

Keeping still, he squeezed his eyes shut for a nanosecond and wished he could fly. Or disappear. Or shrink. Mom said his superpower was asking questions. Maybe. But lately he’d decided his only real ability was being unremarkable.

“You can call me…Captain Average,” he whispered to the pavement.

He’d have to make a run for it soon. There was a stone in his school shoe, and his backpack clung like a sweaty lump of concrete. He needed to pee.

“Greetings, loser,” said a voice.

Riley perched on the narrow wall above. She looked pleased with herself, like she’d just learned how to spell.

“Thought I’d get a better view from here,” she said, grinning. “But turns out all I can see is trash.”

Brave straightened, ready to sprint. He could hear her mob of friends approaching. She wobbled. He hesitated. He could run now, or was this his big chance? He watched Riley stand, balance, and beckon her friends over. Man, she was tall.

“Great footwork,” he said, voice squeaking. “Are you a gymnast?”

“Huh?” she said.

He kicked himself mentally. Stupid thing to say.

“You know, a gymnast. Beam, bars, trampoline?” He couldn’t stop talking.

“Shut up, freak face,” she hissed.

Clouds skidded across the sky, and the afternoon sun made a halo around her head. Her giant feet were within reach.

He could hear the others somewhere on the other side.

“Come on, Aiden, he’s over here!” Riley yelled back. She teetered again, trying to keep her balance. Sticking one arm out to the side, she swung her right leg wide to counterbalance.

“Could you be a ballerina?” said Brave, testing her. “Nureyev? Fonteyn? Billy Elliot?” He bit his lip to stop himself saying more.

“Do you ever shut up?” Riley glanced away, madly gesturing to her crew. She swayed again, almost falling.

Brave stepped out from the shadow of the bin. He pulled his phone from his pocket, framed the shot, and hit record. Then he took a step forward, reached for Riley’s ankle, and shoved.

She spotted him but staggered, trying to keep footing on the narrow surface, arms pinwheeling. She folded into a sitting position, lost balance, and fell. There was a muffled yell, a thump, and a lot of swearing.

“And…cut,” whispered Brave, pressing pause.

Fingertips gripped the top of the wall, and Aiden’s puffy, red face appeared.

“You’re going to get it this time, Kingsfort!”

The other two hauled themselves up before Brave pocketed his phone. He turned, threw one last look over his shoulder, and burned off around the corner to the park. He hugged the trees, avoided the playground, and cut through a narrow walkway to Falcon Street. Stopping to catch his breath, he took a quick look back. Three monsters were hot on his tail, running at top speed across the open grass.

Brave hesitated, then raised his phone. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. It was going to be an epic vid. He kept it rolling until Aiden was within spitting distance, hit pause, then spun and ran. Reaching his front gate, he battled with the latch.

“Mom!” he yelled. He nearly had it, when the battered old thing stuck. It had been raining the night before. “Mom, the gate’s swollen again. A little help here!” he yelled, panicking.

“Mommm,” echoed a voice.

Riley and her underlings approached at a run, but when they saw he was cornered, slowed to a confident swagger. Aiden was puffing but trying not to show it.

“Calling for your mom isn’t gonna help you, geek,” said Riley. Brave looked at the grass stains beading blood on her shins. He shoved his backpack hard against the gate, willing it to budge. His legs shook. The gate stayed put.

“Give us the phone,” said Aiden.

Brave shook his head. His heartbeat drummed behind his eyes. Aiden’s face went from sweaty pink to deep beetroot.

“Hand it over,” he said through gritted teeth.

Brave stared hard.

“Stop freaking staring at me,” said Aiden, and suddenly dived forward, going straight for him, head down, shoulders like battering rams.

“Oh, brother,” said Brave, stepping aside as the boy was about to make contact. Aiden’s nose hit the wood. Hard. It made an ugly, crunching sound, and it also opened the gate.

Aiden screamed. The others stepped back, unsure what to do. Brave hopped over him and ran up his garden path.

He found the safety of the front porch and waved. None of them would be stupid enough to enter the property. Not with his mother’s reputation.

Riley shook her fist. “You come back here, you piece of…”

“What’s going on?” asked Mom, opening the front door. The familiar smells and sounds of home gathered around her and dissipated into the open air. She eyed him calmly.

“Nothing,” said Brave.

“Mrs. Kingsfort, your son injured my friend Aiden here,” said Riley, hovering at the gate. She put on her best suck up voice.

“Correction,” said Brave, feeling more confident with distance between them. “The gate injured Aiden.”

His mom sailed down the path, chin held high. When she wasn’t looking, he started filming again. She approached the open gate and leaned over to inspect the boy’s nose. Aiden was still sitting on the ground, holding it. A small stream of blood leaked into his mouth. The others kept back, wary of getting too close.

Brave was wishing he had a better view when his mom turned to the side as if on cue.

“It doesn’t look broken,” she said.

“How would you know?” Aiden snarled.

She ran out of patience, leaning over to tap Aiden’s nose and pull him squealing to his feet.

“There,” she said. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? If it was broken then it would be hurting a whole lot more.”

“You’re a nutcase!” he howled, stumbling out of her reach. The others were edging back onto the sidewalk.

“No, I’m a person who doesn’t put up with bullies,” she said serenely. “Now, get your sorry butts off my property and don’t come back. Next time, pick on someone your own size and IQ. If I catch you anywhere near my son again, I’ll turn you into blobfish.”

Brave chuckled at the looks on their faces. He zoomed in on Aiden’s bleeding nose then panned to Riley as her mouth dropped open. “What the hell is a blobfish?” she asked.

“An improvement on you!” Brave called, trying not to laugh.

Riley narrowed her eyes, and he could see the hatred written across her face. But all she said was, “Come on, let’s go.”

She gave him the finger then whirled away. The others followed.

Brave panned back to Mom walking along the path. The jangle of her jewelry made a furious accompaniment to her steps. The close-up on her face was terrifying.